Lost Magic (The Swift Codex Book 3) (40 page)

“All of this food is starting to make me hungry,” Valerin said. “When I was off-duty I used to go to the taco shack over there. Never knew what the meat of the day was, but I didn't mind.”

How could he talk about food at a time like this? I shot him an annoyed scowl. We sat on a bench against the wall, watching as our forces filtered into the Market in pairs and singles. A checklist sat in my lap, the names written in temporary ink, about a third of them already slashed through. Despite the cool touch of black silk of my clothes, I was too hot and already dizzy, but I forced myself to pay attention.

A hundred feet away, on the left-handed side of the decks, hid the Council building. Amidst long-dead shops boasting carpet repair prices which would have made sense two decades ago and window displays of 1940's tins, the Council building was intended to be overlooked. It was located in a low foot-traffic zone and well away from the long lines queuing up for lunch. At first I thought this was intentional on the behalf of the Council, then I remembered the nature of the doors in the market. They arranged themselves and would take no input from their residents. If the building was located here amongst the dead doors, it was a true reflection on the state of the Council. A lone straggler hurried out of the large oak doors and raced down the steps, aiming for the busy heart of the market.

“How many did your constable say were on lunch duty holding down the fort?” Valerin asked.

“The main receptionist, four or five administrators, and likely a dozen or so people to watch over our friend, but you never know. There could be double that number if some people are behind on paperwork and a review is coming up,” I said. “In any case, the majority of our headache is at the tail end of the lunch line.”

We strolled to the bakery shop window where Leif and the other leaders gathered. We'd restricted the party to thirty-three people. A larger force would be clumsy and too difficult to conceal. Surprise and speed were our assets, once we had used that up we wouldn't be able to withstand the sheer numbers of the Market populace. Barnes looked the calmest of us all, but perhaps it wasn't the first time he had done a raid on the Council. He wasn't even twitching his handlebar mustache. Leif had his hands clasped a little too firmly behind his back.

“Reservations made?” I asked.

Leif nodded. “Lilly is finalizing the conference room now. The receptionist won't be a problem until she's finished her working lunch.”

“Any questions asked?”

“Not once we handed over cold cash. It is meant to be a community function building and it hurts the budget when no one uses it.” Leif paused. “Sure you can get out of here once it gets hot?”

“I know what this place does when it goes under lockdown. I'll be fine,” I said. I bit my lip. “I wish they would have let me contact Aunt Linnia. I won't be able to divide my attention once the action starts.”

Now Valerin scowled at me. “We wouldn't have allowed the coven if it wasn't for you. Asking for fey intervention is too great.”

“I know.” But I still had to work to keep from rolling my eyes or sounding too agitated.

Mordon joined us and said, “Break up the talking. Cole's bringing Julius out for a duel.”

Leif startled. “But it's break time.”

“Tell Cole that. Get everyone to their posts. Wolds, find Lilly and get our back door ready.” Mordon grabbed my elbow as I started to move. “Fera, when it starts...”

He didn't seem to know what else to say. I nodded and said, “I know. Go, I'll conceal it.”

“It's taking place in the open. Cole will expect a crowd or he'll be suspicious.”

“I know, Mordon. Thankfully he's the only one I need to fool. Now go.”

We broke apart into our designated places. As the few final pairs entered the market, I directed them with eye contact and a jerk of the head. Then all at once I was left alone. The theory was that if I sat someplace with a coffee mug to one side and a novel in my lap, no one would think to disturb me and I'd have an excuse for concentrating and mouthing words.

For a few seconds, the area outside the Council building was perfectly still and quiet. It was like a precious instant when trying to snap a photograph across a road and there was a brief lull in the traffic which allowed you to do it. There was the building, a brick construction with small windows and the feel of abandonment. Then the door was thrown open and two men came down the steps, a pair of black-uniformed guards. I stared at my book and remembered what the old gypsy man had told me about creating a ward which would draw from the latent magic in the surrounding area. Anything to prevent interference from outside the circle.

I monitored the crowds within Merlyn's Market, seeing that the lines had diminished by half. This was why I was outside. Inside there would be illusions and distortions so prominent that it would be impossible to know what was happening beyond where I now sat. I defined the ward as a boundary, intended to keep anyone from physically entering or leaving. This of course would be problematic with the Selestiani's actual escape, which was why Valerin and Lilly were reproducing the same ward-piercer spell that we'd used to escape the dungeons. Not that I'd told anyone, but I suspected that it would hurt me at least a little when they made their escape.

The last thing I saw before placing up the illusion of an empty Council building was the doors open again. Cole was first, and then Julius Septimus, of his own accord and seemingly unchained. Then it was all eclipsed by the boring nothingness of the Council building. With a bit of effort I could see through the illusion, but it taxed me. I'd never made an illusion on a scale this big before. It had to be in effect when looking straight at it, when looking down from a deck above, and when looking up from a deck below.

“Here we go,” I muttered to myself. “Time for insulation, too.”

With a stretch of willpower, I could thicken the air around the wards to muffle the noises the dueling and fighting would doubtless produce. What I couldn't eliminate, though, was the tension in the air and the general feeling of unease which was slowly building and spreading throughout the market. When something as major as a duel was about to take place, particularly in a magic-infused locale, there was an ambiance which made everyone else aware that something was wrong.

Concussion waves struck my wards. I gripped my coffee cup, glad it was empty, and stared at the open pages of my book. I felt the force of the spell slug me in the gut, and knew this was it. The rest of the battle would come fast and it would be intense. Thin lines of pain radiated through my skin just above my ribcage.

I let out a breath.

“One hit at a time,” I said, very softly. “I can do this.”

I hadn't thought about what it would be like to buffer a battle like this. I'd anticipated, but hadn't considered that it would be painful. Hadn't wanted to get too nervous about what it would feel like to live through.

Around the market there was an echo of excitement. The people and things held within these canyon walls might not know what was happening, but they knew that there was an unusual electricity in the air. Something to make the hair stand up on the back of the neck and people to check their pockets in case a light-fingered somebody was working the crowd. I sweated and forced a deep breath. By the time the seventh spell had touched the wards, I felt the impact as a searing pain across my shoulder. I dared to check how things were going within the confines of the ward.

Julius and Cole were facing off one-to-one, which was not what we'd intended. Allowing the duel was stupid, but Valerin had thought that Julius would insist on fighting it out if his opponent had said enough inflammatory things. Judging by their expressions, this appeared to be the case. The others were occupied in their own duels with various staff members. A woman in a skirt suit and tall heels was using her wand very well, and it took Leif and Barnes tag-teaming on her before she was paralyzed. Most of the spells and counter-spells zipped off one another in brilliant flashes, but on occasion one would miss its target and slam straight into the ward.

With a little adjustment on my part, the ward began to absorb the blows and incorporate the energy into its own reserves. The pain lessened on my body. I wasn't sure why this hadn't happened from the very beginning, unless I hadn't quite cast it right to start with. I'd been distracted. But now the illusion was wobbling a little, a thing I felt rather than saw.

A woman sat down beside me and said, “Fancy work there.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. I met her gaze and the illusion wavered. Her eyes were round, dark orbs without color. When I blinked, they became soft baby blues.

Shelly Johnson. But there was someone with her, someone with the general shape of a man—not a man of the flesh, though. A ghost. A thing I could see out of the corner of my eye, the thing I'd thought I had seen before but hadn't known what it was. No wonder Shelly had given me the creeps ever since I had first met her. That thing had been with her the entire time, just there, nearly but not quite invisible, a thing which I had sensed rather than ever seen. A dozen things made sense at once, how she'd managed to find me when I slipped away from her, why she'd been interested in me personally.

The Immortal. It was tied to her in the bracelet, giving her his powers, letting him use his strength. Railey and I had discussed doing a similar practice, but she'd objected, said that the worst sort of haunters did that. They sucked the life out of their partners. Said it happened no matter who the ghost was, as the ghost became less and less stable. It was how possessive spirits began. How true this was, I hadn't ever checked—that she refused had been enough for me—but now I wished I knew if Railey had been well-researched prior to making her statements.

A shudder went through my body at the thought of the Immortal being capable of possessing anyone.

Another thought struck me.
The Immortal had been there during the Unwritten and the fire, even if Shelly hadn't.
“You were the one who fed the story about the Wildwoods to the
Tribune
. How did you know all about the drakes and Kragdomen's influence?”

Shelly gave me a sweet, doe-eyed smile. “When you meet as many people as I do, you hear about a variety of things. And every now and again, well-placed rumor-mongering does miracles for swaying public opinion. Nothing makes the sorcering community feel more secure than seeing how poorly their competitors are doing.”

“The Wildwoods and Kragdomen aren't competitors, they're places where people live.”

“They are independent nations unto themselves, and they would benefit from serious reform.”

“You just want resources—”

“Mind your wards,” Shelly said. While I stabilized them, I noticed my ghostly bench companion out of the corner of my vision. He didn't look like he had the last time I'd met him in a dragon form. I suspected that he could change how he appeared. A suggestive hint to radically alter how the world perceives them. Of course a whole body change from dragon to human was radical, and I didn't know if it was something he could accomplish only as a ghost-like entity or if he had a physical form as well. I assumed not, otherwise there would be no need to use Shelly Johnson as a host.

He was slightly taller than I, his face round and his hands pudgy. There was nothing inherently menacing about him, everything suggesting he could be the poster child for a 'nice guy finishes last' movie. But I knew that beneath this kindly veneer, he was far from a nice guy.

“That was hard work to slip through all those layers,” Shelly continued, but her voice had a strange intonation to it, as if she wasn't the one choosing the words. “Usually it puts excruciating strain on the caster and the entire structure falls to pieces. All yours did was flicker.”

“It was you that made me uncomfortable earlier,” I said, astonished that they'd been able to go through the wards and wondering how they'd done it.

“A little pain when I broke through? You handled it well. I was impressed.” Shelly crossed an ankle over her knee and bobbed her foot up and down. “I thought I should apologize for my behavior last time we met. I was overly enthusiastic. And I understand that you've chosen your alliances. That in no way means I cannot appreciate good workmanship, however. And I came for this.”

Before I knew what he meant, he tore the anklet off me, the chain slicing into my skin as a link gave way. The illusion thinned and for an instant the battle beyond could be seen. Julius was staggering and Cole was climbing back up off the edge of a deck. Mordon buckled beneath the heavy fist of a troll. How the troll had entered the fight, I hadn't a clue. Could have been a conjuring. Everyone else was concealed in a flurry of movement and spells. Then the brief glimpse was gone, back to an empty building. I hoped no one had seen.