Stuck In Magic

by Christopher Nuttall

  And you’d probably catch something nasty if you slept with one of them, I told myself. I didn’t know if AIDS existed here, but it wasn’t the only danger. And how would you cope with an STD?

  Chapter Eleven

  I’d feared the worst, in the days and weeks after my abortive trip to the brothel, but neither Horst nor Fallows seemed inclined to make a big thing out of it. I’d worried they’d think less of me for not indulging, yet they didn’t seem to care. It made no sense to me, as we patrolled the streets of the city day after day, but I decided it was better not to worry about it. I needed a native guide, someone who understood the depths of my ignorance, yet I didn’t dare ask for one. The more questions I asked, the greater the risk of someone realising the truth.

  Captain Alder seemed pleased with my progress, to the point he told me I was no longer on probation. I allowed myself a moment of relief, even though it didn’t mean any real change in my duties. Horst and Fallows seemed content to keep me as the third member of the trio, although I suspected I was meant to partner up with another guardsmen. Trios were rare in the City Guard. It almost always meant one of the guardsmen was on probation.

  I forced myself to keep my eyes open, even though I had the sense I was just

  spinning my wheels. We rounded up soldiers from the garrison who’d sneaked back into the city – apparently, it was a flogging offense – and kept a wary eye on mercenaries as they entered the city long enough to buy supplies, recruit more infantry and left before their welcome ran out completely. I heard rumours of distant conflicts, of fighting between kings and princes and a whole string of lesser titles that meant absolutely nothing to me. Horst teased me, asking if I’d be tempted to join a mercenary band, but I wasn’t tempted. They looked even less professional than the insurgents I’d fought. And they were just as dangerous to anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path.

  The weather never seemed to change, somewhat to my surprise. It was hot all the time, hot and dry and … there wasn’t even a single rainstorm. It didn’t rain very often in the desert, if I recalled correctly, but it should have rained a little. Horst and Fallows didn’t seem to think much of it, when I asked them, yet … I couldn’t help noticing that the cost of food was steadily going up. If the wells ran dry, the local population was screwed. I hoped the landlords had enough sense to ration water.

  The good thing about getting off probation, I discovered, was that I had more free time to explore the city. I changed into a simple set of robes – we were advised not to wear our uniforms when we went off duty – and haunted the bookshops, sounding out the text as if I’d gone all the way back to first grade.

  I’d always loved reading – it had been an escape from a childhood I hadn’t enjoyed – but it was hard to work out, sometimes, what the writer had meant.

  There were so many different versions of local history, I discovered, that it was impossible to figure out the truth. Who’d done what? One set of books insisted that Crown Prince Dater had won the Necromantic Wars single-handedly, another didn’t even mention him. And I had no idea who Crown Prince Dater even was.

  “There are more history books on the way, I’ve been told,” the bookseller said, late one evening. He looked old enough to be my grandfather, although it was hard to be sure. “Do you want me to put some of them aside for you?”

  “I wish I could afford them,” I said. I was trying to save what little I could.

  “Are they reliable books?”

  The bookseller shrugged. I didn’t blame him. Whoever had invented the printing press and devised new ways of making paper had concentrated on producing cheap pulp, rather than history and other non-fiction books. I wasn’t sure if it was an immensely clever move or a sign of naked stupidity. Probably the former.

  Getting people to read – and encouraging them to develop the habit of reading –

  wasn’t easy. If they enjoyed the experience, they’d keep coming back for more.

  My teachers hadn’t learnt that lesson. They’d wanted us to read books that were either above us, below us or simply so divorced from our lived experience that it was hard to follow the characters. I was lucky I’d done a lot of reading in my own time.

  I waved goodbye as I stepped out of the shop. I didn’t think the bookseller liked me very much, although it was hard to blame him. The City Guard were little more than bully-boys, petty criminals in their own right. He had to fear I’d simply take whatever I wanted from his shop, even though he was probably quite well connected. His patrons might not give enough of a damn to support him. I knew how he felt,.

  The night heat enveloped me as I made my way down the road. Curfew was a joke, this close to the fancy part of town. I saw men and women making their way up and down the streets, laughing and joking with the ease of people who knew they were unlikely to run into any trouble. I heard music echoing from a building and rolled my eyes. The locals had a surprisingly flexible concept of dating, from what I could tell. Young men were allowed to walk out with young women, perhaps even take them to a dance, as long as they behaved themselves. Both sides understood the rules. It made me wonder what my children would become …

  I stopped, dead, as it hit me. I hadn’t thought about my sons in weeks. I’d known there was no hope of getting back to them – Jasmine had said as much, and the books I’d read hadn’t so much as suggested the concept of alternate worlds –

  but I hadn’t wanted to forget them. The sudden realisation was so strong, so painful, that it almost drove me to my knees. I wanted to see them again, I wanted to see my sons so badly I was prepared to agree to anything – anything at all – if it took me back to them. And yet I knew it couldn’t be done. There was no way home.

  The streets grew darker as I wandered through the alleyways, alone with my thoughts. The allays were emptier here, the homeless regularly chased into the poorer regions of town to fend for themselves … or die, more likely. I cursed savagely as I wandered past another dance hall, the faint sound of music touching my ears. I didn’t belong in this world. I wanted to go home. I wanted …

  I tensed, senses snapping alert without quite knowing why. I’d heard something

  … one hand dropped to the club at my belt, the other reaching for the whistle.

  I was off-duty, technically, but Captain Alder had made it clear a guardsman was never truly off-duty. If I heard the whistle, I had to respond. I had no choice. If I didn’t, they might not respond to me when I was in trouble. I clutched the club as I inched forward, listening carefully. Someone was protesting, quietly. Ice ran down my spine. I’d heard that tone before, from people who wanted to protest – to object, to say no – without drawing attention.

  I reached the edge of the alley and peered into the darkness. My eyes were good, but it was so dark it still took me a moment to be sure of what I was seeing. A young man was pressing a young woman against the stone wall, one hand lifting her dress while the other was holding her still. I felt a hot flare of anger. How dare he?

  “Let me go,” the woman protested. She squirmed against the ball, unable to break free. I cringed at the terror in her voice. “Let me go!”

  I put the whistle to my lips and blew, then lunged forward. The man gaped at me, a moment before I yanked him away from the girl and thrust him to the ground. He landed with a grunt and tried to roll over, too late. I put my foot on his back and pushed down hard, pinning him to the ground as surely as he’d pinned his victim to the wall. I heard a gasp from the girl as she stumbled back, but I had no time to console her. I caught the would-be rapist’s wrists and held them behind his back with one hand, while I frisked him with the other.

  He wasn’t carrying much, beyond a pouch of money and a silver wand. It felt unpleasant to the touch.

  The man grunted, struggling against me. “Let me go!”

  “Like you let her go?” I heard another gasp from the girl. “You are going to do some hard time.”

  “Do you know who I am?” The man didn’t seem put out
by my words. “I’ll break you for this.”

  I pushed him down, just as the sound of running footsteps announced the arrival of a pair of guardsmen. One of them was carrying a lantern, casting an eerie radiance over the scene. I stared down at my captive, silently noting his features in case I had to testify against him. Olive skin, dark hair, darker eyes … by local standards, he was quite handsome. But the malice in his eyes, as he looked at the girl, bothered me. He’d been going to rape her. He’d been going to …

  “My father will sort this out,” the man said. I felt my heart sink. “Just get in touch with him and he’ll sort this out.”

  “We’re going to the station,” I growled. There was enough money in the young man’s pouch to bribe … well, a guardsman or two. If I left him with the others,

  I doubted he’d stay in custody for any longer than it took him to realise he could bribe them. “All of us.”

  I glanced at the girl. She looked around eighteen, although it was hard to be sure. She had long dark hair, a tinted face and dark eyes; she wore a dress that suggested she was decidedly upper-class. I wondered, grimly, why she’d been with him in the first place. I was very sure she hadn’t decided to go wander into the alleyway on her own. Her would-be attacker’s clothes were as fine as hers. Judging by the glances the other two guardsmen were exchanging, I might just have stuck my manhood into a power socket. Or pissed off a magician.

  But if I’d done nothing, she would have been raped, I told myself. I knew the type all too well. The entitled frat boy, the one who thought his daddy’s money gave him the right to do whatever he liked … the one who moved from crime to crime until he did something so vile that no amount of money, and expensive lawyers, could save him from a long prison sentence. I did the right thing.

  The thought tormented me as we marched our captive – and his would-be victim –

  back to the guardhouse. The officer on the desk’s eyes went wide, the moment he saw us. He jangled the bell for Captain Alder and sat back, looking as if he was trying to pretend he was somewhere – anywhere – else. Captain Alder emerged from his office and blinked in surprise, then looked at me. I had the feeling he wasn’t pleased. I might have accidentally landed him in hot water.

  “Elliot, go into the briefing room and wait,” he ordered. “Hoch, put our guests in the comfortable sitting room. I’ll deal with them in a moment.”

  The girl shot me a shy smile as I walked past her, feeling my heart sink again.

  I’d saved her and yet … I had a nasty feeling the fix was already in. If Captain Alder had recognised the would-be rapist … I shuddered, unsure if I should just keep walking until I was out of the building, then put as much distance as I could between myself and the guardhouse before they realised I’d deserted. The briefing room was surprisingly cold, but … I forced myself to sit and wait. There was nothing else to do.

  I thought I heard voices from outside the door, men arguing over … over what?

  Me? Or something completely unconnected to me? I waited, wishing for a glass of water or something stronger. I didn’t want to get drunk, but … I knew it wasn’t always safe to drink the water in the guardhouse. The less said about the time I’d drunk unclean and unhealthy water, the better. They just didn’t understand the importance of boiling water first.

  The door opened. Captain Alder stepped into the room. I stood to attention, clasping my hands behind my back. I doubted he’d appreciate a salute, particularly one he wouldn’t recognise. The guardsmen didn’t really have a salute. I had no idea what the local soldiers did, when they wanted to salute.

  The city was so slapdash, by my standards, that it was quite possible they did nothing.

  “Sit.” Captain Alder pointed to a chair, then sat down himself. His voice, when he finally spoke, was cold and hard. “Do you know what you did?”

  “I saved a girl from being raped. Sir.” It was hard to keep the disgust out of my voice. “Who is he?”

  “Harbin Galley, son and heir of Lord Galley, one of the richest and most powerful men in the city,” Captain Alder grated. “And you had the nerve to arrest him!”

  “He was going to rape her. Sir.” I allowed my voice to harden, even though I knew it was probably suicidal. There was no way in hell a young aristocrat, heir to a rich and powerful family, would have trouble finding female company.

  His family’s wealth would have made him very attractive indeed. “If I’d done nothing …”

  “If you’d done nothing, I wouldn’t have found myself at the centre of a political storm,” Captain Alder snapped. “I spent the last hour caught between two powerful men, each one with more than enough influence to crush my career –

  and yours – like … like an eggshell.”

  I gritted my teeth. “With all due respect, sir, he wouldn’t have been arrested if he hadn’t been able to commit a terrible crime,” I said. I loathed people who committed crimes and then complained when they were arrested and jailed.

  “Did she press charges against him?”

  Captain Alder gave me the kind of look a parent might give a particularly stupid child. “Of course not,” he said. “His family and hers will sort it out privately. He’ll probably pay some compensation and the matter will be buried, protecting her reputation as well as his.”

  “Fuck,” I said. I thought I saw the logic, but … it was sickening. “That’s …”

  “The best anyone can hope for,” Captain Alder said. “If her family makes an issue of it, young man, his family will destroy her reputation in a bid to save his.”

  “Bastards,” I said. I knew the type far too well. “And you just … let him go.”

  Captain Alder met my eyes. “You have been incredibly lucky,” he said. “Gayle Drache was collected by Rupert Drache, her brother. He went to some trouble to ensure you would not be in any trouble.”

  “You mean he bribed you,” I said.

  “Yes,” Captain Alder said. He made no bones about it. “And if he hadn’t, you would be in deep shit. Hardin could have had you sacked, or enslaved, or simply executed. You got very lucky.”

  I stared at the floor. I’d wondered why the guardsmen were so deeply corrupt.

  Now … I thought I knew. What was the point of being a honest cop in a corrupt city. I’d arrested a would-be rapist, only to have the criminal escape and …

  and I’d nearly been punished for my good deed. The only thing that had saved me, irony of ironies, was another criminal act. I cursed under my breath. If I hadn’t intervened …

  You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself afterwards, I thought, darkly.

  I’d thought I was saving Jasmine … here, at least, I had the satisfaction of knowing I had saved someone from a terrible fate. I was morbidly sure it wasn’t the first time Harbin had tried to molest or rape someone. This time, at least, it had come to nothing. You can still look yourself in the eye.

  “You’ll be spending the next two weeks patrolling the slums,” Captain Alder said, flatly. “If you do anything as stupid as this again, you’ll be dismissed before you drag the rest of us into the shit. Is that clear?”

  I scowled. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Captain Alder stood. “Get to the barracks. Get some rest. You’ll be up early tomorrow to take the morning patrol.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. He probably thought it was a punishment. I was almost glad. It would keep me busy, making it harder to brood. I was starting to feel as though I was wasting my time. Or worse. If I stayed in a corrupt police force, how long would it be until I wound up corrupt myself? “Thank you, sir.”

  Captain Alder stared at me for a long cold moment. “You got very lucky,” he snapped, coldly. His eyes bored into mine as he loomed over me, so close my fists were itching to punch him in the gut. “Next time, things will be

  different.”

  I had the nasty feeling, as I stood and headed for the door, that he was right.

  And yet …

  You saved h
er, I told myself. Take pride in that, if nothing else.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next two weeks were an eye-opening experience in so many ways.

  I’d seen the slums before, of course, but patrolling them regularly left me torn between horror at the conditions – I’d seen better places in Iraq and Afghanistan – and a curious numbness that made it hard to think of anything I could do for them. I was one guard, one man, and there was no way I could even begin to come to grips with the sheer scale of the poverty grinding the poor into the ground. I wanted to do something to help, yet nothing came to mind.

  The slums were an endless nightmare of crime, where one could either be the victim or the victimiser … or both. Just walking through the slums made me sick. It didn’t help that I was seriously worried no one would come to my aid if I blew my whistle.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been the FNG, but it was … different. The guardsmen – the other guardsmen – knew I’d managed to wind up in deep shit.

  They feared what would happen, if they stayed too close to me. I understood all too well – people rarely confronted abusers as long as the abusers had the power to strike back – but it still galled me. The guardsmen regarded me as a lightning rod, someone who might draw fire just by being there. I liked to think I would have been more understanding, if I was in their place, but it was hard to be sure. Standing next to the guy throwing shit was never a good idea.

  It was hard to blame the guardsmen for wanting to make sure they were as far from me as possible.

  I found myself wondering if it was time to move on, although I had no idea where I could go. I’d read a great deal about the local political situation, about the warlords and the powers beyond the kingdom, but … where could I go? The thought of being a mercenary offended my pride, yet … how many other choices did I have? I could sign on as a bodyguard, I supposed, but that would have its own problems. I’d heard enough grumbling about conveys being harassed, as they made their way through the disputed lands, to fear the worst. If the warlords were stopping the Diddakoi, it was easy to believe they’d be stopping farmers and harassing them too. And there’d be nothing I could do about it.