The Madness Project (The Madness Method) (22 page)

He sat up suddenly, his eyes locking straight on me.  My
heart launched into my throat and I jumped clear across the street, crouching
back by a crate.  A minute and I reminded myself to breathe, because at least
he wasn’t chasing me down with a knife.  He just sat there staring at me like
he thought he was still asleep.

And I stared right back.  He had a tattoo around his right
eye like nothing I’d ever seen.  White and bright as ice, even brighter because
of the dark storm of his eyes.  I couldn’t imagine how much it must have hurt
to get it made.  Still, a mark like that meant only one thing.  The boy was a
mage, and worlds more powerful than a mage like me.  More than that—he was worlds
braver than me, flaunting what he was to the wide world, when so many of us
just tried desperately to be ignored.  I almost envied him that. 

With the muscles in his arms and that strong still face, I
wondered if maybe he was a sellsword.  He had the look, though he couldn’t have
had more than a year on me.

“You alive?” I called across the street to him, when I
figured he wasn’t apt to knife me.

“Alive?” he said.  “I don’t know.” 

His voice sent a shiver through me.  It was low and solid,
with a wild lilt  that called to oceans and cliffs, not the hills and trees of
Cavnal.  He tilted his head back, the grey light shining on the sharp lines of
his cheekbones, throwing the rest of his face into shadow.  His hair must have
been nearly as pale as his mark, but it had been shaved short like a
mercenary’s.  The rain caught on its fuzzy edges and glittered like bitty
shards of glass.

“You lost?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“You from around here?”

He narrowed his eyes, closing his lips just enough so I
thought maybe he was smiling.

“No,” he said, finally.  “You going to keep shouting at me
from over there?”

I shrugged and picked my way toward him.  He hadn’t stirred
much, just enough to see me better, and he still had his arms all wrapped tight
around his legs.  Everything about him looked cold.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.  He got that narrow look
again, so I shrugged and added, “I’m Hayli.”

“You’ve got a name.”

“Wasn’t always on the street,” I said, and clacked my jaws
shut.

“Mm,” he said.

Then he just turned his face back to the rain. 

I shifted, impatient, and finally dropped to a crouch beside
him.  “So, you ganna tell me, or should I give you one myself?”

He twitched his fingers.  I guessed it was like a shrug. 
For about two seconds I contemplated walking away and leaving him to himself,
but curiosity had got its claws in me good and tight, and I couldn’t make
myself go.

“Ice,” I said.  “Icy.”  He cocked an eyebrow, squinting at
me sideways.  “Bald…y.”

That got a quiet laugh from him.  “Taumir,” he said, and
closed his eyes.  “Means Shade.”

I giggled.  Didn’t mean to, it just popped out.

“Is it funny?” he asked, sounding a bit tetchy.

“Nope.  It’s perfect.  Just…are you
trying
to sound
spooky and dangerous, or is that just how you are?”

He made a short noise like a snort and didn’t answer.

“Tamer?”

He kind of glared at me.  “Taumir.”  Then, slow and
deliberate, like maybe I couldn’t hear too well, “
Taw-meer
.”

“What sort of language is that?”

“Mine.”  He dropped his gaze and flicked his fingers again. 
“Or it was.”

“You got somewhere to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”  I sat back on my heels, scowling at him.  “Dan’ talk
so much.  You’re giving me a headache.”

His mouth twitched, and I grinned at my victory.

“What’s your story, Hayli?” he asked suddenly.  “Why’re you
out in this damned rain?”

“You must not be from hereabouts,” I said.  “We’re all used
to the rain.”

“I’m sorry.”

I waited for another minute.  The rain perked up, hearing
itself talked about, and turned icy cold, and the wind took to howling in the
alley corners.  The boy, Shade, pulled his knees in closer.

“You sure you’ve got a place?” I asked.  “Because I was
ganna say you could come back my way if you like.”

Kantian had never told me I couldn’t recruit folks on my
own.  I never imagined we had endless food stores or jobs, but…surely he
wouldn’t mind just one more.  And a mage at that.

The thought jumped out on my tongue.  “You’re a mage?”

He opened his eyes and fixed me a gaze as stern as
Derrin’s.  “What gave you that idea?” he asked.  It came out a growl, but I caught
a flicker of humor in there—dark, bitter humor.

“You’re a Mask, right?” I asked, gesturing at my own face. 
“I’ve never known any Masks.”

“What about you?”

I froze up.  “What about me?”

He tipped his head, giving me a look like rebuke.  “You’re a
mage too.”

“I’m not—” I started, but he just raised an eyebrow, so I
sighed and said, “How you ken?”

“I’m smart like that,” he said dryly, making me smile.

“I’m a Moth.”

“What are you, a cat?”

I laughed.  “I wish.”

But I didn’t tell him what my animal nature was.  I still
couldn’t get a gauge on him.  Couldn’t tell if I ought to trust him.  I wanted
to, somehow, but a lifetime on the streets had left its mark on me.

“What’re you doing here in Brinmark?” I asked.

“Do you ever stop asking questions?”

I grinned.  “When I know what I want to know.”

“God help me,” he said.

“Are you an assassin?”

He jumped a little.  I couldn’t tell from how he squinted at
me if he thought I was right, or crazy. 

But he just said, “No.”

“Thug?  Rebel?”

He straightened up, getting that sharp, thin look in his
storm-grey eyes again.  “I’m looking for someone.  Once we’ve had our words,
I’m gone.”

I pushed myself to my feet.  “Shame.  We could’ve used
someone like you.”  I hesitated.  “Well, good luck.”

That got him a bit baffled, which was kind of what I’d hoped
for.  He hauled himself upright, pulling on the door frame for support.  The
way his face turned so grey I feared he might be about to conk.  I reached a
hand toward him, but he stumbled back, glaring ice at me.

“Don’t touch me,” he said.

“A’right,” I snapped, cheeks flaring.  “Just trying to
help.”

He stood, head bent, all drenched in the rain.  I got the
sense he had some kind of inner battle going on, so I kept my mouth shut and
waited for him to get it sorted. 

Finally he glanced at me and sighed.  “I’m sorry,” he said,
and turned and walked away.

“Wait!”

He didn’t.  Another minute and he’d slipped off down an
alley, and by the time I got stirred enough to run after him, he’d disappeared
completely.

Chapter 3 — Tarik

“I have a problem,” I announced to Kor when I found him back
in the storefront.

He tipped his hat back and scowled up at me.  He was lying
flat on the floor, his head on my traveling case, and the way he looked so
cross, I wondered if he’d been asleep.  I rather didn’t care.

“Wake me up again and you’ll definitely have one.”

I dropped to a crouch in my corner, rubbing my hands.  Kor
waited, but I didn’t say anything else. 

“All right,” he said, giving in sooner than I expected. 
“What happened?  I leave you on your own for one day—
one
day—and you’re
already in trouble?”

“I met a girl.”

“Oh, hell,” he said.

“Not like that.  I’ve met her before.  As…myself.”

He eyed me skeptically.  “Didn’t know slum dolls were your
type.”

“Shut up and listen.  The first time, we just bumped into
each other.  Literally.  And I took her hand to help her up.”

He froze, barely, then sat up and swung around to face me. 
“And…?” he asked, so low and wary that I knew he could guess what was coming.

“She’s a Jixy.”

“Did she—”

“No,” I said.  “Didn’t recognize it a bit.”

“What’s the problem then?”

“She almost touched me today.  If she had…”

He waved to cut me off, then fished a pewter flask from his
coat pocket and handed it across to me.  I took a few sips of the
liquid—whiskey, by the taste of it—and passed it back.  For a while the silence
held fast, all but the tap of rain leaking through the roof somewhere, and the
wind whimpering through the cracks in the wall.

“Look, Tarik.  Is she the sort you’d want to cozy up with?”

I shot him a disgusted look.  “No.”

“Well then.  That’s easy.  Don’t touch her.”

“I’ve got a feeling she’s in with the Clan.”

He whistled.  “Really?  Why?”

“Just a feeling.  When I met her on the palace grounds, she
kept insisting that she
had
to be there.  I don’t think she just
stumbled there by accident.  Then she said something today about how ‘they
could use someone like me.’”

“I’m guessing you think there’s a connection in there to
your little intimacy issue?”

I bristled.  “If she belongs to the Clan, she can be my in.”

“Right…”

“Are you really that dense?” I asked, slamming my hands on
my thighs.  “If I have to be friendly with her to get into the Clan, we’ll
probably spend a bit of time together.  I can’t keep telling her not to touch
me.”

“Sure you can.”  He smirked.  “Tell her you’ve got a
terrible plague.”

“I should’ve known not to ask you for advice.  Don’t you
take anything seriously?  Stars, I wish Zagger were here.”

“Well, he’s not.  You know what you’ve got to do.  So figure
it out.”

I glowered and wrapped my arms around my stomach, wishing
away the pangs of hunger.  Kor stood up abruptly, clapping me on the shoulder.

“How about a fight?”

“
No
.” 

“Your Cashina is getting better, but honestly, you’re still
pretty pathetic.”  I tried a nasty retort but he rolled right on, “If you want
in with the Clan, you better believe you’ll have to prove yourself, even if
your girlfriend tries to bring you in.  So come on, get up.”

My arms and sides were still battered with bruises from the
previous few days’ training, ever since Kor had laughed in my face when I’d
asked if we would use Namolo gloves like I was accustomed to.  But the pain
wasn’t as bad as the cold, and at least a fight would warm me up, so I groaned
and pulled myself to my feet. 

*  *  *  *

Kor kicked me awake in the pitch dark of morning before the
crawling winter sunrise.

“I’m heading out,” he said.

I grunted and rolled onto my back, muscles aching and teeth
chattering.  “I don’t give a—”

“I’m telling you this time because I’m going to be gone a
while.  Maybe a few weeks.  Sorry, kid.  You really are free on the wing now.”

That drove all the sleep and cold out of me, and I found my
feet.

“What for?”

“Can’t say,” he said.  “Look, this little job isn’t the only
thing the Court’s got me doing.  I’ve got other duties.  So relax.  This is
your chance to grow up and be a man for once in your life.”

I narrowed my eyes.  Kor was always coarse, and never
polite, but there was something else in his voice this morning.  Worry, maybe. 
I couldn’t really tell.  But instead of arguing with him as usual, I just
shrugged.

“Better get on, then,” I said.  He hesitated, then nodded
and turned to go.  “Oh, Kor,” I called, stopping him.  “When you get back, if
you want to find me, ask around for Taumir.  Or Shade.”

“Taumir?” he asked, interest flickering in his eyes.  “You
speak Istian?”

“I’m the Crown Prince,” I said, peevish.  “Of course I do.”

“Right.  Affairs of State school or whatever the hell your
father calls it.”

I nodded. 

“All right.  If by some miracle you get information you need
to report while I’m gone, come find me at the palace.  If I’m not there they’ll
know how to reach me.”

He studied me a moment longer, then tipped his hat with a
muttered goodbye and slipped out the door. 

I tried to go back to sleep, but after fighting and failing
for an hour, I got up and headed out onto the streets.  I could try to avoid
Hayli for the time being, but I knew I couldn’t just hide in that room for a
month waiting for Kor to return.  Not the way my stomach kept arguing with me.

For once the rain had stopped, and a little watery sunlight
trickled through the holes in a low blanket of cloud.  Even the wind had calmed
enough to let the morning pretend at being congenial.  Funny how a change so
small could make such a difference in my outlook.  I strode along, feeling as
though I could conquer the world if I met it there in the alley, almost letting
myself forget about Jixies and cults and assassins.  But not quite.

This time I managed to follow Zip’s directions all the way
to their end, to a dark, hole-in-the-wall joint that might have been a store or
maybe a bar.  I studied it carefully, repulsed but infected with that gnawing
curiosity that always got me into trouble.  Besides the shuttered windows and
the stoop railing hanging by a single splintered brace, the whole street around
the door breathed a sticky, sickly unpleasant kind of stench.  I couldn’t
imagine Zip had ever stepped foot inside the place.  After a minute’s
consideration I decided I never wanted to either, no matter how curious I was. 
Even I wasn’t that stupid.