The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books)

by Matthew Sprange

  Narrowing his eyes and laying his palm flat once more, Lucius called upon his magic to bring another fire globe into existence, but this one just fizzled away after the first few sparks.

  He sighed. “I am not sure I am in the best frame of mind for this today.”

  “Have you ever had trouble making your talent do what you want before?” Forbeck asked.

  Lucius thought for a moment. “No. Not since the early days anyway.”

  “I would guess that is because you have only ever used your magic when your life was in peril, or perhaps occasionally for your own amusement. You have never had to influence with such delicate control before.”

  “Taking the path of least resistance,” Adrianna said, but they both ignored her.

  “Please, try again,” Forbeck said. “Forget the distractions of your ordinary life and fill your mind with the magic. There should be nothing else.”

  Taking a deep breath, Lucius looked at the line of paper rolls before him. The truth was that distractions were intruding on his thoughts. Marching back to the guildhouse earlier that day, Lucius had been filled with dread. He knew they had failed utterly in their mission on the Street of Dogs. The disruption to the collections could be excused – but the death of the Guild man in the skirmish after could not.

  They had confronted Magnus, all twelve thieves assigned to the task and, upon hearing what Swinherd had done, the guildmaster had fought visibly to control his anger. The shadow across his face had subsided quickly, but he had told them all how very disappointed he was in them. That seemed worse somehow. Though they all knew that it was Swinherd that bore the brunt of blame, they also all felt in some measure responsible. It had after all, happened on their watch.

  Ordering the rest of the Hands to keep a low profile in the city over the next few days, he clearly hoped there would be no direct retaliation, that the Guild would see the senselessness of direct action and chalk the death down to overexuberance on the part of some of its members. It was, after all, what he would be inclined to do in their place. However, Lucius was not so sure. There was a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach that refused to be silenced, and it had been troubling him all day, as if they were now just waiting for the hammer to fall. It was certainly affecting his concentration now.

  Lucius aimed the next fireball to the side of the first paper roll, thinking that he could at least bypass the obstacle with little effort on his part. As the globe slowly bounced past the paper, he half-closed his eyes as he tried to imagine an invisible thread between it and himself. Gently, he pulled on the connection, willing it to veer to the left and therefore bounce between the first two rolls.

  The fiery globe seemed to hesitate just a few inches above the floor, then, with infinite slowness it seemed to Lucius, curved a lazy arc between the rolls. It was not a neat line, but the globe now bobbed on the other side of the rolls, close to the second. He could feel the connection between himself and the fire grow complicated and tenuous, but he took a breath and willed it forward just a little, then started a new curve to the right, to take it past the second roll and onto the third.

  As the fire globe slowly drifted in the new direction, he allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. The break in his thoughts was enough to sever the link he had so far maintained, and the ball suddenly picked up speed, veered left and right randomly, then headed straight for the third roll, blasting it to cinders.

  “Damn it!” he shouted, frustration getting the better of him.

  “Easy, my boy,” Forbeck said, placing the end of his cane on Lucius’ shoulder, as if to restrain his anger. It caused him to turn round to face the other two Shadowmages.

  “You may not believe me, but you are doing well to get so far so quickly,” Forbeck continued. “We have been here little more than an hour, and you are showing the ability to influence your magic beyond the point of egress, to maintain a physical form for several seconds, and to guide it with growing precision. I do not know if I recall seeing someone with so much ready aptitude.”

  Lucius noticed Adrianna’s eyes narrow suspiciously at this, but he said nothing. Scoring cheap points against her was not the way to an easy life, he had long ago realised. Forbeck fell silent with his own thoughts for a moment, then focussed back on Lucius.

  “Let’s try another tack,” he said, pacing a half-circle round Lucius before leaning on his cane with both hands. “Tell me how you see your magic. What do you imagine when you call upon the power?”

  “The same as you, I would think,” Lucius said.

  “Indulge an old man,” Forbeck said, smiling. “What do you see?”

  “Well... It’s always there, to one degree or another. You kind of get used to it. It’s like I can see many different lines, strands, umm... threads, I suppose. Not see them for real, but they are in my head somewhere. They all wrap around one another as they go off into the distance, spinning round and round, crossing one another’s path. I sort of reach in and pick out the one I need, and I feel it right here,” he said, putting a hand on his chest. “After that, I can direct and shape the energy into what I need it to do.”

  “Fascinating,” Forbeck muttered. Lucius noticed he glanced briefly at Adrianna, who raised her eyebrows in an expression that seemed to suggest she had won an argument between them.

  “And what, exactly, are you able to do with these threads?” Forbeck asked. “How can you manifest your power? What can you do?”

  Lucius shrugged. “Create fire, as you can see, though normally I only use that to start a camp fire – or catch an enemy off guard. I can increase my strength and speed for a short time, send a stone flying through the air, cloak myself in shadows, bend the branches of a tree, umm... well, whatever I need, really.”

  He purposefully did not mention the darker aspects of his talent, the powers he knew were at his call but had always seemed black, ruinous... evil. He saw Forbeck was eyeing him with a calculating look, seeming to measure him by the ounce.

  “You may be a truly remarkable individual, Mr Kane,” Forbeck said quietly.

  This puzzled Lucius, for he had expected some ridicule, especially from Adrianna, for how little his abilities had progressed over the years. The test with the rolls of paper was clearly an exercise in humiliation for him.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Forbeck paused again as he marshalled his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was slow and measured. “Every Shadowmage visualises their power in a different way. However, there are common themes. Most see it as a centralised concentration of power.” Seeing Lucius frown at that, Forbeck tried to quantify his remark. “They see something like a large cloud, a lake, or maybe a river. They fuel their magic by metaphorically reaching into that source, scooping out the gas or water, and then forming it into what they need.”

  “I don’t see anything like that,” Lucius said.

  “No. And that is what makes you at least a little different. Tell me, Mr Kane, what you know about the fundamental properties of magic. What is it, do you think, that guides a practitioner, be they Shadowmage, wizard, witch or priest, and limits what he can ultimately achieve?”

  “I am not sure I know,” Lucius said doubtfully. “Practice, I suppose, as you said.”

  He saw immediately from Forbeck’s expression that it was the wrong answer.

  “Do you think you could move a mountain, Mr Kane?” Forbeck asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “So, there are clearly limits to what can be done. However, there are other boundaries that confine a practitioner to certain tasks that he can accomplish with magic. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Not really,” Lucius said.

  “Well, we have been watching you create your little balls of fire this evening. Would it surprise you to learn that Adrianna is completely unable to ignite so much as a spark, let alone sustain a fire through its own energy alone?”

  Lucius blinked. Yes, he was surprised that Adrianna could not accomplish someth
ing he found so easy. She was, after all, far more accomplished as a Shadowmage than he. However, as he cast his mind back, he suddenly realised that, for all the time they had spent together in the past learning under Master Roe, he had never seen her use fire in her magic.

  “Why is that?” he asked, completely perplexed.

  “There are different types of magic, Mr Kane,” Forbeck said. “Or rather, different sources. I am not sure anyone knows them all, but the important thing is that the vast majority of practitioners in this world only ever master one. Just one, Mr Kane. Now, all Shadowmages have an aptitude for magic involving stealth and secrecy; that is one of the aspects of our practice that sets us apart – the other is that we can manipulate magic so easily, almost instinctively, while others require years of study, practice and ritual. However, the very best of us also gain mastery of another source. Do you follow me?”

  Looking blank, Lucius just waited for him to continue.

  “For example, I can create the same fire you do, but Adrianna cannot. She can greatly influence parts of the natural world – weather, animals, plants and so forth. But I cannot. We share an affinity for stealth and secrets, for we are Shadowmages, but otherwise we are very different.

  “When I see the source of my magic, Mr Kane, I see two clouds. One is still and dark, and is where I reach when I want to clothe myself in shadows or walk silently past an alert watchman. The other is turbulent and frightening, a tempest of power that I often struggle to harness. But reaching for that cloud is what allows me to create fire, animate water, or suck the air from the lungs of an enemy. Most Shadowmages are confined to the magic of stealth, which is where we earned our name. Only the best, those destined to become masters of the guild, can add another weapon to their magical arsenal. And then we have you.”

  “Me?”

  “You are clearly not bound to one, or even two sources of power in your magical endeavours, Mr Kane. Adrianna tried to tell me this earlier, but I did not believe it. And yet when you, just now, described what you can achieve with your magic, you told us of things that would ordinarily take half a dozen Shadowmages to accomplish.”

  Lucius was quiet for a moment, and the silence of the empty warehouse began to press upon him as he struggled to find something to say.

  “So... what does mean?” he asked.

  “I am not sure,” Forbeck said. “That you have access to formidable powers was obvious to me before we even met. Every Shadowmage in the city felt something when you arrived. But it is also clear you have access to perhaps an unlimited number of arcane sources of power. It will be fascinating to watch what you can ultimately achieve and, because of this, I implore you to continue your training. You can be so much, Mr Kane, and I just hope I can help set you on the right path. There is something about you that sets you apart from not only other Shadowmages, but perhaps every practitioner of magic in this world. It would be a crime to allow that to simply fade away.”

  “That is a lot to think about,” Lucius said.

  “I know, and both Adrianna and I will do all we can to guide you through these early stages. I cannot promise you anything, Mr Kane, and I cannot foretell the future. But I very much want to train you, for your own sake, as well as that of our guild.”

  “Then, in that case,” Lucius replied, “I think I will stay around. For at least a little while longer.”

  “Thank you, Mr Kane,” said Forbeck, and Lucius sensed his relief. “I think we have covered enough – more than enough – this evening. Carry on with your practice when you can, try to exercise finer control. That will be key to your later studies. When we meet again, we will see how far you have come. I look forward to that time.”

  With a slight bow, Forbeck spun on his heels and walked out of the warehouse, the sound of his cane ringing on the stone with each step.

  Lucius stared down at the line of paper rolls in front of him, sensing Adrianna’s eyes fixed on the back of his head.

  “You put a word in for me, then?” he asked.

  When she did not answer immediately, he turned back to face her, seeing a dark expression bearing down upon him.

  “You are a rogue and a scoundrel,” she said accusingly. “But you do have power. That, I have always sensed.”

  She stalked past him to follow Forbeck, her voice floating back to him as it echoed around the warehouse. “Learn from Master Torquelle, and you will find a home among the Shadowmages, Lucius. Betray us again and, I swear, I will finish you myself.”

  HIS MIND NOW full of magic, as well as the struggle between thieves, Lucius nevertheless felt as though some burden had been lifted from his shoulders. What passed for an olive branch in Adrianna’s mind had been offered to him, and he clearly had an ally, if not yet a friend, in Forbeck. For the first time in many years, he had a sense of purpose, of a greater goal to be achieved, rather than aimless wandering. He had to admit, it felt good. There were troubles to be faced by the Night Hands but he now believed they could eventually be solved and, maybe, he would have a part in that.

  When Lucius returned to the guildhouse, after walking the twilight streets of Turnitia for an hour or more, he found that nothing would be solved easily, and that greater dangers now hung above all the thieves.

  The sombre mood in the common room was palpable when he entered, for no one spoke above a whisper. Clumped together in their regular groups, the thieves simply nursed their ale or wine, and avoided looking directly at him or one another. Sensing something had gone very wrong, Lucius dashed upstairs, seeking Ambrose or Caradoc, finally finding the latter in the council chamber with two others that Lucius had seen earlier.

  “You can’t be here,” Caradoc warned him. “The Council is gathering to discuss the attack.”

  “What attack?” Lucius asked, suddenly anxious.

  “Where have you been? One of the pickpocket teams was found in the afternoon, stabbed to death and thrown into Drake’s Alley in the Five Markets.”

  “They were only kids,” said one of the Council members, a bitter note in her voice.

  Suddenly downcast, Lucius turned to leave, before a thought struck him. “Which team was it?”

  “Just been put together,” Caradoc said. “Some young lad called Tucker, only joined us this week. He was with two experienced kids; Markel and Treal, brother and sister, I think.”

  Lucius sagged against the door frame, trying hard not to picture the children, their bodies lying in a deserted alley among the dirt and filth, blood pouring from open wounds in their chests. They must have been so scared, he thought, and cursed himself for not being there to save them.

  He barely heard when Caradoc spoke again. “It will be war now, you mark my words. There is no way Magnus can back down from this. It will be war.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE GUILDHOUSE WAS alive with activity, rumour and gossip. From the first light of day, thieves had been gathered in small groups, and conversation had stealthily made its way through the common room, armoury, kitchens and corridors; the Guild of Coin and Enterprise were coming.

  It had been later in the afternoon when Lucius had been summoned to the council chamber, its polished wooden walls seeming to reflect the mixed emotions of excitement and dread that had permeated the entire guildhouse by now. He had already that heard there had been a noisy dispute among the Council – particularly between Magnus and Caradoc – but the guildmaster had made his wishes clear, vetoing all other proposals. Seeing where violence between the two guilds would inevitably lead, Magnus had called for a summit between them, inviting the leadership of the Guild into his most secret lair as a sign of trust and concession.

  That had been the rumour, but as Lucius passed Caradoc in the hall and saw his haunted expression, he came to believe all he had heard. They were waiting for him in the council chamber, the table turned so it stood at right angles to its normal facing, with the most senior thieves hunched together on the far side facing a row of empty seats across an assembly of wine urns and cups. Mag
nus sat in the centre with Caradoc’s empty place to his left, while behind him stood his two bodyguards; Lucius had learned they were brothers, Taene and Narsell, and they had terrible reputations for cruel brutality, but served the guildmaster with complete fidelity.

  A smattering of other high-ranking thieves stood against the wall behind the assembled Council, and Lucius was directed to join them. He had no idea why he had been summoned to this meeting, other than it had been at Magnus’ direct request, as he knew the others would be present to act not only as witnesses, but also as advisors and counsellors, should information be needed during the discussions. What he had to offer, Lucius could not say, but he was grateful indeed that he would see what happened here first hand, and not have to rely on the guildhouse’s own, not always accurate, grapevine.

  “Are we certain they will show?” one of the Council members asked, a young man whom Lucius recalled was called Nate.

  “The offer caused quite a stir within the Guild,” another man answered, “or so our spies have told me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were still arguing about what to do.”

  “They will show,” Magnus said confidently. He noticed a few doubtful looks about the table and continued. “The Guild has as much to gain and lose as we do. Though we have very different ideas about how to run this city, Loredo is not a stupid man.”

  “He also risks a great deal by coming here, to our home ground,” Nate said. “If the situation was reversed, I would be worried about an ambush.”

  “True,” Magnus agreed. “But we risk a similar amount by inviting him here. Look at it this way. If the situation were indeed reversed, would you not be swayed by the chance to see your enemy’s stronghold?”