Thief’s Magic (15 page)

Then he drew all the magic in. Some he channelled out to throw off the force restraining him. Some he shaped into a shield. Blows rained upon it as he dashed towards the nearest stairwell. Shouts filled the tunnel and their echoes chased him up the stairs, which were too short and fussy for what was supposed to be a quick escape. A circular groove in the ceiling suggested a hatch of some kind, but it did not budge as he pushed against it.

“Just as well there isn’t a flood or fire,” he muttered as he shaped more magic, smashing the hatch upward. Climbing out, he found himself in the middle of a flower bed, the hole through which he’d climbed an ugly wound in the arrangement. Hearing sounds of pursuit in the tunnel, he chose a direction and ran, stumbling over the garden edging onto a path and narrowly avoiding two servants hurrying past.

I’m in the gardens somewhere between the professors’ apartments and the hall. Where now? Out of the Academy? Which way will they expect me to go?
To the closest exit. So he should go a different way. The path he was on was taking him towards the professors’ apartments. They wouldn’t expect him to go there. But it was straight and as soon as his pursuers climbed out of the hatch they’d see him. He dashed down the next side path. It was a narrower one that wound around to the back of the building.

At one of the turns it gave him a glimpse of the area he was heading for. He skidded to a halt. Behind the professors’ apartments was a flat and featureless pavement that offered no cover at all.

Then he saw what waited there, capsule inflated and ready to fly.

And he swallowed a laugh as he leapt into a run again.

A
s the doors of the temple opened, the bright sunlight turned all to white. Rielle followed her companions out, locating them mostly by the sound of their voices. Even when her eyes had adjusted, the paved courtyard seemed leached of colour and the heat set the mud-rendered houses shimmering.

“Uh. It’s
horrible
outside,” Bayla muttered. “I wish we could go straight home.”

“It won’t be so bad in the market,” said her twin, Tareme. She turned to Rielle. “Would you like to come along?”

Rielle smiled in gratitude at the invitation. “I’d like to, but I can’t. My aunt is expecting me.”

“But Ako will be there. He said he’d like to see you again. He must have found you interesting.”

Rielle kept her smile intact with an effort. She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the twins’ brother. Any respect she’d had for him had died after she’d had to fend off his amorous advances during a silly hide and hunt garden game at their birthday celebration. The twins didn’t know about that, however. Nobody else had been around to witness his behaviour, and he was bound to deny it if she complained. Unable to explain why she now despised him, she could only pretend simple disinterest. It was fine for the twins to talk about their brother’s flaws, but not polite for anyone outside a family to criticise their relatives. Especially for women to.

“I’m surprised to hear that,” she replied. “Though he probably has me mixed up with someone else. He seemed to mistake me for someone hired as entertainment.”

Tareme grinned. “His habit is to act before he thinks. It is a part of his charm. He has a great enthusiasm for life, don’t you think?”

She shrugged.
Life? No, his enthusiasm is for something a little more specific. But, then, I suppose he’s not specific when it comes to
which
women he is enthusiastic about.

“Enjoy the market,” she said. “See you next quarterday.”

As the two girls strode down the stairs and off across the courtyard, Rielle felt a pang of regret. She was looking forward to a painting lesson with her aunt that afternoon, but an invitation to join the other girls after temple classes was rare and more than she had hoped for when she’d first started attending. In the beginning, most of the girls’ first conversations with her had been about their surprise and relief that she didn’t smell bad.

They were all from the most powerful and wealthy families in Fyre. Rielle’s was also wealthy but not so well regarded, thanks to the reputation that clung to those who worked in the dyeing trade. Of course, Rielle had never actually done any of the dirtier work. Her parents hired other families to do it, providing them with housing and food along with income. Their generous donations to the temples guaranteed that no one would openly ostracise them for their unclean profession, but Fyre’s great families had other, subtler ways to exclude people they didn’t approve of.

The trouble was, the most memorable fact about dyeing was that the substances that produced the best colours were so often the most repulsive and odorous. Urine and faeces, extracts of sea creatures, rotting vegetation and crushed insect larvae were the worst of them. Even the mordants and fixers were harsh to the nose – and some of them poisonous. All good reasons why dyers must, by law, establish their premises on the outskirts of a town or city, downriver from the rest of the inhabitants.

That meant it was a long walk home from the temple, unfortunately. She tugged her scarf up over her head and tossed the corner tassels over her shoulders. It was too hot to tie it close to her throat, and most of the girls in the small city considered a tied scarf too matronly. Still, she’d have to fasten it properly before she got home, or her mother would lecture her on modesty.

Nobody is around to see anyway
, she reasoned as she checked that her purse was tucked safely inside her skirt and under her tunic. She crossed the courtyard and started for home. Temple Road, one of the main streets of Fyre, would take her most of the way. It was one of the busiest routes, but at this time on a quarterday, between the morning lessons and worship and the afternoon market, even this thoroughfare was quiet. And as the fourth set of four days – the end of a halfseason – it was a day the more pious of the city’s citizens spent at home fasting and praying.

Odd how this made her feel less safe, as if the threat from thieves was greater where fewer witnesses were around. From what she’d heard, robbery was more likely to occur in a crowd where everyone was distracted.

Ahead, a young priest stepped out into the road, and she relaxed. It was Sa-Gest, the reedy young priest she had seen about the temple. The other girls mocked him when he was not around. His grey robes, darker under the arms and around the neckline from sweat, marked him as a lower ranking member of the order. He hurried into the next side street. Curious, she looked down the street as she passed and saw him striding away.

The streets were busier than the main road. Perhaps they offered more shade and therefore more relief from the heat. She had explored the maze of them many times in the company of her cousin Ari, before he left to join her brother in the importation side of the dyeing business. Many were shaded by awnings like the stalls at the market, but woven with intricate designs. There were courtyards and shops where streets intersected, and people sat on rustic furniture or bench seats built into the sides of the mud-rendered walls to eat, drink and gossip.

In this part of the city, known as the artisans’ quarter, the awnings were patterned with black thread and woven by the occupants of the houses. The houses were painted in bold, bright hues. A new coat of mud and colour was applied once a year ready for the Festival of Angels. The next festival was a halfseason away, and most houses had faded dramatically in the last eight or so quarterdays as the stronger summer sun bleached them.

Despite the easy pace she’d set she was already sweating. She longed for a breeze, but when she passed another side street and felt an eddy surround her it was full of grit and warmth. She was tempted to walk faster just to get out of the heat and to a drink of fresh water sooner.

As she continued on, another, older priest emerged a few streets ahead, this time heading towards her. This one she didn’t know, but his grey-blue robes told her he was a more senior priest – the closer to the Angels’ colour the higher the rank. His grey-streaked hair was damp with sweat. If he noticed her at all she could not tell. From his distracted expression, she gathered his thoughts were on more pressing matters.

At last she reached Tanner Street, a thoroughfare that would shorten her journey home by cutting a straighter line across a loop of Temple Road. She knew her mother would prefer her to stay on the main road, but her cousin had told her that plenty of people used the short cut so she should be safe so long as she did not stray from it. More people were using it than Temple Road, she noted. Keeping to the narrow strip of shade to one side, she made sure she looked alert and confident. Behaving meek and afraid appealed only to those looking for an easy victim, Ari had taught her.

A few hundred paces along, a blackness billowed out of a side alley and blocked her path.

She froze as she recognised it, then quickly bent one knee and adjusted her shoe in the hope that anybody watching her would think this was the reason for her stopping.

Stain!
She had rarely sensed it outside the temple, and then only after a temple procession. It had been after one such procession, when Rielle had tried to touch the lingering after-effect of the priest’s magic, that her aunt had discovered her little niece could sense it.

“
You must always pretend you can’t see it
,” Narmah had warned. “
And never tell anybody that you can, no matter how much you trust them. Don’t write it down. Don’t even say it aloud when you think nobody can hear. If the priests find out, they’ll take you away.
” Rielle had asked if this would mean she would get to learn magic. “
Women don’t become priests. Only men approved by the Angels can
,” her aunt had told her, so uncharacteristically severe that Rielle never dared to do anything her aunt had warned her against.

Everybody knew what caused Stain. A priest must have used magic – and a lot of it. He must be somewhere further down the side street since she could see no priest on Tanner Street.

So I can’t stand here adjusting my shoe for ever or he’ll notice me. I’m going to have to walk on.
Which meant walking through the Stain. She knew it wouldn’t harm her, but the thought repelled her. It was, after all, the taint that magic left behind. Priests undertook secret rituals of cleansing to counter the effects. She did not have that knowledge. Crossing to the other side of the street to avoid it would be too obvious, however. Taking a deep breath, she made herself walk towards it. She resisted looking down the side alley to see what the priest was up to, took a deep breath and held it.

Then gasped as she collided with something hard and invisible.

Something grabbed her arm and yanked her to one side. Her first thought was that Stain wasn’t supposed to be solid. The second was that at least she hadn’t betrayed herself when she had gasped, as the priest must expect anyone walking into a solid wall to notice. The third thought, as she stared at the man holding her arm, was that this was no priest.

Instead he was a shabby, dirt-grey creature with wild eyes. In one hand was a knife and she flinched as he thrust it at her face.

“Shut up. Say nothing. Do what I say,” he snapped. “Understand.”

She stared at the knife, mouth dry and heart pounding, and nodded.

He turned and dragged her down the alley after him. Her body responded by losing all strength and she nearly staggered to her knees, but he hauled her up and onward. So much for Ari’s opinion about the safety of Tanner Street. So much for being alert and confident. What should she do now? What would he do, once he stopped? Rob her?

The alley was empty. If he was quick, he could have her purse before anyone came along. But he wasn’t stopping. Her stomach swooped. He must want something more. She could not help imagining the worst. Cold fear made her knees weak again. She had always told herself that she would rather die than
that
. That she would fight. She’d imagined throwing off attackers, even dragging them to the priests for punishment. But his grip was like iron and he hauled her along as if she weighed nothing. Despite being thin and not much bigger than her, he was stronger.

You’re weaker than him, but you might be smarter
, she told herself.
So think!

Somehow she made her mind stop spinning and consider what she knew of him. Remembering the Stain, her blood went cold. There had been no priest around and nobody else close by, so only this man could have used magic.

He was a tainted. It meant he had chosen to learn how to use magic. It meant he was willing to steal that magic from the Angels. It meant he did not care that they would see its taint on his soul when he died, and tear it apart. What could make someone choose such a fate? Having given up his soul, what other terrible things might he be willing to do? How much more terrible could they be, with magic at his command?

Fear rushed through her, but it was tempered by another thought. If the blotchiness of the Stain he’d left was any indication, he had no skill with magic. The Stain the priests made was different – a radiating halo.

In theory, she could use magic, too. Anyone who could see Stain could, but she had no idea how and even if she used it to save her life, she would see no afterlife.

She might face a choice between death and eternal death.

Before she could begin to contemplate that, he slowed to approach a cross street, peering around the corner before he pulled her after him. He was watching out for something. Or someone. She instantly thought of the priests she’d seen earlier. Out on a hot day when they would prefer to be in the cool temple. Her heart swelled with hope. Were they looking for the tainted? Were they close? Was rescue only a few street corners away?

Was this why he had abducted her? Was she a hostage, an innocent he would threaten to kill if they cornered him?

Approaching another intersection, the man peered down the cross street then recoiled. He stepped past her and hauled her back the way they’d come. Rielle drew a breath to yell at whoever he was running from, then let it out again. What if all he was doing was trying to avoid passing other people? She might lead someone into danger.