The Fire Mages (14 page)

I suppose it should have struck me how odd all this was, but I never thought about it. My life had ended when I lost my licence to scribe spellpages. I was grateful to Drei for rescuing me from the ignominious consequences, so I was quite happy to do whatever he asked, even to pretend to be a low-status servant. Some people would have been ecstatic to be the drusse to a Bai-Kellonor, and I was human enough to enjoy the fine clothes and exotic foods and the leisure afforded by the provision of servants. Still, I would have been much happier to be back at the scribery. All of this felt like a long, rather strange, dream, and some corner of my mind still hoped that one sun I would wake up and everything would be as it was.

Two suns later my beautiful new clothes arrived, and two suns after that I got my first opportunity to wear them. The Drashon held a court assembly every ten-sun, two or three hours of formal representations and petitions, followed by several more hours of eating, drinking, mingling and political gossiping.

Drei was excited at the prospect of so much court intrigue gathered in one place. Although he had visited Kingswell before, he had never been involved with the court. I was nervous. This was not a role I had ever trained or planned for, and although our court protocol was not as rigid as in some other countries, nevertheless I didn’t want to make an embarrassing mistake.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Drei said airily. “You don’t have to say anything, just bow at the proper time. Walk a little behind me and follow my lead. There, you look very well in that. Turn round. Yes, it suits you.”

I thought so too. The azai was composed of floaty silk trousers with a long silk coat on top, fitted close around chest and waist, then flaring into loose panels round the legs. There were delicate embroidered slippers to match, and several transparent silk scarves in toning colours which two servants expertly intertwined and wrapped around my head so that the loose ends frothed down my back. The pale sage colour looked surprisingly good with my red hair. It made me feel very feminine, and I actually blushed at Drei’s compliment. He looked good, too, in a stiff brocade coat over silk trousers, with a small matching hat, and calfskin sandals.

Because of the size of the Keep, there was a wide corridor on the second floor connecting all the towers. Broad-shouldered men carried the nobility from tower to tower in velvet-padded chairs fitted with lifting handles. I felt very grand being carted about, and glad that I didn’t have to walk far in the impractical slippers.

We sat in an ante-chamber before we were called into the assembly room, along with several others of noble rank also waiting to be presented formally to the court. One rather imposing elderly lady with a retinue of fluttering minions was summoned first, then it was our turn. We followed a servant in gold-encrusted livery through an archway of carved marble, and into a vast echoing hall lined with marble columns alternating with painted statues. On either side I had an impression of many people in clothes of every colour under the sky, and a low murmuring everywhere. The servant led us between the columns to where the Drashon and his currently favoured drusse sat in marble chairs many times too large for them. Our names were given – this took some time, given all Drei’s honorifics – the servant stepped aside and we made our obeisances to the thrones, once for him and then again for the drusse.

The Drashon inclined his head regally, and said a few words – “Welcome to my court” or something equally bland. There was some back and forth of greetings – respectful good wishes conveyed from the Kellon to the Drashon, similar good wishes expressed by the Drashon to the Kellon and so on. It was very dull.

The Drashon barely looked at me. He could hardly have forgotten our last meeting, but whatever he thought of my new situation he gave no indication. The drusse was a middle-aged woman with quite a noticeable moustache in a very stiff brocade gown which had so much fabric that it almost covered her chair. She stared at me with a supercilious air before losing interest.

Drei made a very pretty speech explaining that Bellastria wished to solicit potential suitors. He rather cleverly described his sister in flattering terms as a strong-minded and intelligent lady, perfectly capable of becoming Kellona in time, while subtly making it clear that the right husband would be more than a mere consort. I could see that it might be an appealing option for, perhaps, a son not favoured as heir in his own family, who might enjoy taking on the more active duties of ruling a Kell. The Drashon made a little speech of his own wishing him well with the project, we bowed again and withdrew to the side of the room.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Drei murmured into my ear.

We stood and watched as a succession of other nobles or visiting dignitaries were formally introduced, after which various people came forward to present petitions for the favour of the Drashon. Some of these were noble, but some were wealthy commoners, all got up in their very best finery for the occasion, requesting tax exemptions or the right to establish a mill or a build a warehouse or extend an inn or, in one case, asking for a mage to help with a rat problem in the sewers. One man had been found guilty in law of actions designed to damage a rival business and was protesting the penalty. Another man complained that his apprentice had stolen a secret cake recipe and set up his own business, and wanted something done about it. Sometimes the Drashon would make an instant decision and that was the end of the matter, but more often it would be set aside for further discussion in private. It was just like the Kellon’s assemblies, only on a grander scale.

As this was going on, people moved about, held whispered conversations or even left altogether, while others arrived to take their place. Drei ambled about until he found a spot where he could watch both the petitioners and the Drashon, and hear what was said. There he stopped, and took my hand. “Squeeze if you see any blue,” he murmured into my ear.

We stood for some time, until my legs were aching, and my feet numb, but there was no blue. Occasionally I would glimpse a flare in some other part of the room, but nothing right in front of us.

Eventually, there were no more petitions to be heard, or perhaps the Drashon ran out of patience, who knows. He certainly became more abrupt as the hours wore away. He rose from his chair, and an invisible minion sounded a gong. Everyone still left in the assembly hall strolled through an archway into a series of smaller rooms, each laid out with an array of food and drink. Every table carried a different type: pressed fruit juices, tiny pastries with some kind of meat, little cakes, smoked fish, an array of eggs. I had never imagined there were so many different ways to cook eggs. There was wine, too, and ale and spirits in abundance. This, Drei told me, was where the real business of the assembly took place, in the seemingly casual meetings at the cheese table or while pouring a glass of wine. There were no servants unless called in to mop up a spill or replenish the tables, so the nobles could mingle freely and talk in relative privacy. At least, as much privacy as the crowded rooms afforded.

There were chairs provided, but every time I tried to sit down to rest my aching feet Drei would say, “Oh look, the Dusha-Bai-Durshalonor of Grensorna, I must talk to her,” or “It’s the Most Holy Regent’s envoy, I’ll just have a word.” It was tedious, to say the least. I’d never managed to memorise all the stupid titles, and the foreign ones were even worse. If this was what it meant to be a noble, I could live without it.

It was the Regent’s envoy who gave us the final clue about the blue lights. He meandered his way across the pastries room, smiling benignly at those he passed, trailing a cloud of deferential subordinates, to introduce us to his wife and son. They were from the desert, so they wore the colourful draped outfit of their people – I don’t even know what to call it, but it was just a long length of fabric artfully arranged so that it flowed and fluttered as they moved. They were darker skinned than Drei, but they seemed glad to see him, as if they felt he was in some way one of them. I’d never thought to wonder where his mother came from, but with his dark hair and eyes he could easily pass for one of their kind.

We made small talk for a while, the wife flirting with Drei and the envoy struggling to get a word out of me. Then the talk became more serious – the Regent had a son who might be of interest to Bellastria, so it was just the envoy and Drei talking. The envoy said something quite innocuous, to do with Bellastria’s great beauty, that her reputation had reached even to the ears of the Regent, some flattering nonsense, and there it was, a great blue flare around his head like the sun’s corona, so bright that I almost had to turn away. In an instant, it was gone.

I reached for Drei’s arm, to give him the signal, but there was no need. His eyes were wide and he gave a little squeak. The blue was so vivid that he had seen it too. He hastily settled his features and made some bland response, but as soon as politeness allowed he made an excuse and turned away from the desert people.

“Did you see that?” His voice was high with excitement. “Well, of course you did. But have you worked it out? What it means?”

“You know? Tell me!”

“He lied!” he said triumphantly. “He told a blatant lie. That’s what the blue is about. That’s why it’s only when people are talking. That’s why you see it so much in taprooms – everyone boasts in taprooms, and half of what they say isn’t true at all.”

“Why does the intensity vary, then?”

He frowned, thinking it over. “I’d guess the deepest blue is for the biggest lies. The paler version is for when you say – oh, you know, that gown really suits you, or you ride really well. Little lies so you don’t hurt people’s feelings. But a flash like that – a big, big lie, and such a sincere smile on his face too. What a lying bastard! Oh, this is going to be so useful!”

We settled into a routine of sorts. Early each morning, Drei went off with the guards to exercise his horse or practise his sword skills. The nobles were expected to acquire some competence with weaponry and battle strategy, so that they could rush to the defence if Bennamore were ever attacked by savage hordes. Mostly it was just a hobby to pass the time and socialise among their peers, but Drei took it seriously. 

After morning board in the apartment, there would be meetings with Bellastria’s potential suitors, or members of the Drashon’s retinue, or distant kin, or those with an interest in the Kellon’s affairs. It was unbelievably dull, but Drei insisted I attend, and even questioned me afterwards to make sure I was paying attention. We developed a system of signals, so that I could let him know who was lying – scratching my nose, or a little cough, or fiddling with my scarves. After the noon board, we rested in the apartment for a while, reading mostly. Drei selected my books for me, the sort of standard texts any half-way decent education would have thrown my way, but which were far out of my mother’s price range. Then he tested me on what I’d learned.

Sometimes we walked about the Keep, shopping, perhaps, or admiring the fine artwork in the public rooms, and sometimes we went into the town outside the Keep, with Drei explaining, describing, showing me the detail of Kingswell that I would probably have missed otherwise.

Occasionally he would ask me things beyond his knowledge, about the scribery, the mages, how the spellpages worked and what happened in the renewal. I couldn’t reveal much about that because I was still bound to secrecy, but I told him as much as I could. I rather liked knowing something he didn’t.

Some suns I practised riding under his supervision. Everyone at the village knew how to get about on one of the plough horses, but it was a different matter on a decent mount with a saddle.

Drei was teaching me, extending my limited education, but I wasn’t really sure why. I would only be with him for seven moons, and after that... I didn’t like to think about the future. I’d worry about that when the time came.

He was a strange man, but I liked him much better than Cal. Drei took good care of me, and I was inspired to improve myself under his training. He shared my bed amicably, and liked to sleep touching me, for the little trickle of magical energy I transmitted. Sometimes he dreamed, and moaned restlessly, half talking, but I could calm him just by placing a hand on his forehead. It was lovely to be so needed, even if we didn’t dare go any further than touching, in case he set fire to the bed.

He was good looking, too. Where Cal was tall and pale and skinny, like a plant grown spindly in a dark corner, Drei was well-shaped, quite muscular, and he wore his clothes well. He never shouted at me or abused me, he never neglected me. Only once was he angry with me.

He had begun to grow a little moustache, which was rather fashionable around the court.

“What do you think?” He peered into the mirror. “It’s coming along, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s almost as impressive as the one on the Drashon’s drusse.”

He spun round, hissing. “Are you making fun of me?”

I was taken aback. “I – I was only teasing a little bit.”

“Don’t you
ever
laugh at me!” His face was a boiling red, fists clenched.

“Sorry. Sorry.” I backed away from his vehemence. “I didn’t mean anything. Really, I’m sorry.”

He was so full of rage that for a moment I was almost frightened of him.

“Please don’t be angry.” My voice came out as a squeak. “It’s just – that’s what friends do, tease each other a bit. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He glowered at me. “Let’s get to the bookseller’s before they close.”

It was a full hour before he calmed down and became his usual unruffled self. “Friends, eh?” he said, eyeing me with sudden amusement. “I suppose we
are
friends, aren’t we?”

He was perfectly affable then, but I took care what I said to him after that.

~~~~~

It was almost a whole moon before we gained permission to go to the Imperial Library. Drei was very impatient, but there was a complicated process to go through and the mages in charge would not be rushed. There were forms to fill in, then interviews, then another form, and finally an interview with two of the Drashon’s own mages. Always they asked the same questions. Why do you want access to the Imperial Library? What will you do there? How long will it take? Do you understand the risk?

I was alarmed by the idea of risk. How dangerous could a library be anyway? But it was very old, perhaps it was dilapidated. Drei was unconcerned and answered their questions in his easy way. Obviously, we couldn’t tell them we wanted to find out about our abilities as natural mages, so he had convinced his father to commission some research into land use in earlier times. He had papers of authority from the Kellon, lists of likely areas worth investigating from various academics and his own persuasive charm.

“You have Nessatan, I take it?” one of the mages said, lifting his head from the papers.

“Of course,” Drei said.

“And Breshtorian? Gratakkian? Old Pentish, New Pentish?”

A silence. “A little Gratakkian, perhaps.”

The mage rattled off a long stream of gibberish, eliciting only a blank expression. “So, no Gratakkian, then. I’ll assign you a translator for the other languages.”

Drei nodded, but his mouth was set in a narrow line.

“What about her?” said the other mage, with a casual nod in my direction. “Why does
she
need to go?”

“She is my research assistant,” Drei said smoothly.

“A drusse with a village name?”

“She has some scribing experience...”

“She understands the restrictions over there, I suppose? She must obey the mages’ orders, for her own safety. She knows about mages?”

“She understands. Her previous drusse-holder was a mage.”

“Oh, well... So long as you take responsibility for her.”

Fuming, I listened to them talk about me as if I weren’t there. I was treated so deferentially everywhere else, it was irritating to be ignored altogether. And this talk of restrictions was unsettling. Part of me wanted to go there, naturally, for who would not? The Imperial Library was talked of as the repository of all knowledge. But in another way I would have been quite happy if I’d been banned. Then I could stay away from whatever this unknown risk was. But Drei got his way. Somehow he always did.

“You’re very eloquent,” I said, rather impressed, as we walked back to our apartment. “They didn’t want to agree, but you convinced them.”

“I always get what I want,” he said. I threw him a quick glance, but he was serious. “I’m good with people.”

“It seems like magic to me,” I said airily. He eyed me suspiciously, in case I was making fun of him again, but I’ll admit I was curious about what he could do. What either of us could do. Maybe charming people to get his own way was one of his abilities, just as I could see the blue light when someone lied, and he could see my aura. There was no knowing what we might be capable of.

~~~~~

The sun came when we were to enter the Imperial City. Drei was so thrilled he could barely string a coherent sentence together, and was ready well before the appointed time. I was nervous, and dawdled enough to make him impatient. It was lucky I didn’t have to fasten any buttons myself, for my fingers were shaking.

Drei led the way, walking fast through the streets, so that citizens ambling about on their morning business had to step smartly out of his way. I scuttled along behind like a well-trained dog.

It struck me as odd that there was no clear view of the Imperial City from the Keep. Much smaller towns than this managed to align their principal buildings so that the gateway from one imposing edifice would be connected to another by way of spectacular gardens, or a series of sculptures or squares or arches, or at least a broad road. Here the Keep was surrounded by a jumble of mismatched tall buildings, as if intentionally to spoil any open vista. The very topmost floors of the Keep might have sight of those glowing walls, but from street level nothing could be seen.

It was a shock, then, to turn a corner and find the vast golden cliff towering above us. I could feel the power emanating from it, as clear to me as the heat from an opened oven door. It pulsed low, like a vast cat purring just below the threshold of sound. It drew me forward irresistibly.

“This way!” Drei called out and reluctantly I stopped, but I couldn’t withdraw my eyes from it. The buildings ended abruptly a few paces from the wall, leaving a moat of clear space all the way round. No construction marred that perfect surface, no brick or stone or timber rested against it. And no door or gate, either.

“How do we get in?” I asked Drei.

He grinned conspiratorially, and whispered, “Through the sewers. Follow me.”

There was a casual market blocking the street, carts laden with candles or buckets or caged chickens scattered haphazardly, or craftsfolk selling scarves or patched boots from blankets on the ground. Drei threaded through the mess to a modest brick building, set unobtrusively between a taproom and a sun temple. There was a front door, but he ducked into a narrow alley and down some steps to a basement entrance. Dragging me behind him, for I was still mesmerised, he dived inside.

“What do you mean, sewers?” I exploded, as soon as the door had clunked shut. “We have to crawl through tunnels full of filth?”

“It’s not like that. Really, Kyra, you do fuss sometimes. They’re very big sewers, apparently. How much filth can there be from a deserted city?”

We were standing in a scullery, disused judging by the thick layer of dirt coating every surface. Windows brown with debris let in a gloomy light. Cobwebbed brooms stood in a corner next to a rusty old bucket. There were bare shelves, and an open door leading into darkness. A wavering light appeared beyond the door – a lamp approaching us.

“Come along, come along,” said a petulant voice. A face peered from behind the lamp, surrounded by a mass of near-white hair. “You could have come in by the front door, you know. Much easier.”

“I was told this way,” Drei said, annoyance in his tone.

The old man chuckled. “No point in secrecy when everyone in the town knows what we do. Follow me. This way. There you are – in here.”

The room he led us to was quite different, furnished for comfort with a thick rug, several soft settees and a couple of pots steeping above the hot water pipes. A big window with clean glass let in plenty of light, but there were several lamps in niches around the walls as well.

“There now,” he said, setting the lamp back on a shelf, “sit down here and I’ll explain the rules.”

“I know the rules,” Drei said.

“I expect you do, but we have to go over them again. Just to be safe, you understand.” He cast a glance at me as he spoke, and Drei nodded, understanding. Of course they have to explain it all again for the village girl, who’s too stupid for words.

It crossed my mind that Drei knew far more about all this than me, and he hadn’t bothered to enlighten me. Book after book about the history of Bennamore, but nothing about the Imperial City. All I knew was tiny snippets I’d gleaned here and there. And that it was dangerous, somehow.

Drei and I sat at one side of the table, and the white haired old man sat opposite us. His forehead bore a curious mage tattoo, all swirls and curves. He pulled a paper from his sleeve – our permit, presumably – and read it over, half mumbling the words to himself, murmuring “Yes, yes” at intervals. Once he looked up, staring at me in distaste.

“Well, that
seems
to be in order,” he said at last, rolling the paper up again and glaring at me. “Very well. I will show you the way this time, but after that you can come and go as you please. Now. Rules. You must follow the prescribed route precisely, no deviation whatsoever. Do not dilly-dilly. Do not touch anything. Do not take any materials in or out. Once in the library, you will be safe. Do not disturb the scholars. Do not leave the library. Do not wander the streets. Do not linger overnight. Return by the exact same route. Clear?”

I coughed politely. “May I ask—? What exactly happens if... we deviate?”

He tossed the paper onto the table, and sighed heavily. “Bad things happen. What more do you need to know? Do as you are told –
precisely
as you are told – and it is very likely that you will survive. Deviate and we cannot be liable for the consequences.”

“I’m not going to hold you liable,” I said mildly. “I just want to know what the consequences are.
Precisely
.”

He exhaled noisily, then forcibly calmed himself. “Very well, very well. I suppose you have a right to know. People disappear. Just vanish. Never seen again. Ever. We have no idea what becomes of them, they are just – gone. Is that precise enough for you?”

I said, “Yes, thank you, Lord Mage,” in my most polite voice. He looked at me suspiciously, and I smiled back at him.

I expect he thought I was mad, but actually I was relieved. Vanishing was not so bad. Demons of the dark – that would worry me. Knives, poisons, bottomless pits, deep water – all these things would mean suffering, followed by a slow, painful death, and I was terrified of that. I’ve always been a coward. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had to suffer much pain or illness, so the threat of it seems far worse, somehow. But vanishing, one minute there and the next – poof! Gone. That didn’t scare me.