Thief’s Magic (25 page)

If not her fellow students, who else would she like to settle something with? Her home life was as good as she could expect, and any complaints ought to be directed at her local priest, anyway.

Who else did she spend time with? The answer leapt into her mind.

Izare and his friends.

She couldn’t tell the priest about them, yet there was a related matter she could discuss with the priest. She would have to be careful, however.

Time slowed, then. She used it to consider how she might approach the subject, and what she must avoid speaking of. When Sa-Baro finally called her name a thrill of apprehension went through her. She rose and followed him to the private worship room.

A large spiritual hung from the wall, and it looked quite old. The figures were all out of proportion and so unrealistic they seemed almost comical. The colours were vibrant, however. It had been painted with good-quality pigments, at least. Sa-Baro directed her to sit on one of the seats and settled on another.

“So Rielle. You’ve been attending my lessons for a year now. Are you satisfied with your education here?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you happy coming here? It is a much longer journey for you than before.”

“It is, but I do find the lessons more interesting.”

He smiled, then grew serious again. “I have noticed lately that you sometimes appear relieved when classes finish.”

Rielle looked down at her hands and sighed. “My parents sent me here in the hope I’d find a husband among the families of the other girls,” she told him.

“That is probably true.”

She looked up and met his eyes. “It
is
true. My mother made it clear to me. She is hardly a subtle woman.” Rielle sighed and dropped her gaze again. “What is also true is it was a waste of time. I’ve overheard conversations, and the other girls have made it clear through hints and suggestions both polite and … less so … that none of the families would consider me a suitable match for their sons.”

The priest nodded. “Ah. That is not entirely true. Everyone wants their children to better the family status, and marriage is the best way available for young women – all young women. The women see you as a competitor. The men do not.”

Rielle shook her head. “If any of them consider a wife below their family status an option they are strangely adept at pretending otherwise. If any do, their families are preventing them from meeting or associating with me.”

Sa-Baro’s shoulders lifted. “Perhaps they would prefer an older son who stands to inherit to marry a woman of equal status – or their priority is an alliance with another family.”

Rielle paused, then lowered her voice. “The only available men that I’ve been introduced to have been either lecherous, gamblers or drunks, or had some physical or mental limitation. I might have considered some of the latter if they had not behaved as if they thought I was beneath them.”

Sa-Baro regarded her, his eyes half closed in thought. That he did not argue gave her some confidence.

“It’s my parents who are set on me marrying above their station, not me,” she told him. “I would accept someone of equal, or even lower, standing if he was honest and kind.”

He smiled. “Your humility and practicality do you credit.”

She sighed. “Do they? To tell the truth, if the rudeness of these girls is what I’d be subjected to all the time, I’d rather not marry into the families at all.”

He frowned and looked towards the main hall. “I will mention their behaviour to their parents. Don’t worry – I will not name you as their target, only suggest that a general lack of manners has been noted.” He turned back to her. Now, is there a man you have in mind as your possible future husband?”

Her face warmed at the question and she looked away.
I can’t tell him that!
Lying to a priest was a terrible thing. But, then, her answer did not have to be specific.

“Perhaps someone in a trade,” she told him. “Perhaps one similar to my parents’. If my husband’s interests benefited theirs, perhaps they wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t of higher status. A weaver or tailor, perhaps. Or someone with skills that could complement the dyeworks, such as those of an artist.”

Sa-Baro nodded. “More likely the owner of a weaving house than the weaver himself. An artist? No need to aim that low.” He frowned. “Why an artist?”

“They understand colour, as all good dyers must.”

His frown had deepened. He regarded her silently, then lowered his voice. “Have you spoken to Izare Saffre since the day the tainted was captured?”

She blinked at him in surprise. Had even saying the word “artist” prompted him to suspect she was seeing Izare?
I can’t lie
, she thought.
But I won’t tell the truth unless I have to.

“He escorted me home the quarterday after … that day, when Mother forgot to send a servant.”

“And recently?”

She shook her head, deciding she was justified in assuming “recent” meant in the last few days.

He nodded and looked away. “That is a relief. I’m sure your parents would not approve of Izare.”

She rolled her eyes. “Angels save me! That’s the problem, don’t you see?” His eyes briefly widened in alarm. “Not Izare. I mean the families my parents want me to marry into don’t approve of me, but my parents won’t approve of anyone who is not from those families. I’m beginning to think that this is all meant to keep me occupied until I’m too old to marry and the only future left for me is to be a doting aunt to future nieces and nephews and nurse to my mother, father and aunt when they get old.”

He relaxed then. “I don’t think that is their true purpose. But I will talk to them about it. If you wish.”

She drew in a deep, slow breath and nodded. Perhaps he would persuade them at least to
consider
the possibility of her marrying someone outside of the families. Perhaps, in time, their opinion would soften further. Perhaps even as far as considering Izare a suitable husband.
Not that Izare has said anything to indicate he wants to marry me. It’s far too soon for that!
Another opportunity to have Sa-Baro talk her parents into less ambitious plans for her might not come again, though, which would still be good if her – whatever it was – with Izare never grew to be anything serious.

“Yes.” She let the breath out and nodded. “Thank you.” Then she smiled. “Though I do want to continue having lessons here, despite the other girls. I enjoy them.” It would be much harder to find an excuse to see Izare if she no longer needed to walk home from the temple each quarterday.

He beamed at her. “Well, that’s the best compliment a teacher could wish for! I will have to tackle a few other matters first, so will not be free for another quarterday or two, but after that I will see what I can do.”

“D
on’t overwork it,” said the shadow at her shoulder.

Rielle looked up from the painting she was working on. “Is it done, do you think?”

An odd half-smile pulled at Izare’s lips. “I think so, but then I have other reasons to want you unoccupied.”

She tried to adopt a lofty expression of suspicion, but it dissolved into a smile. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her, plucking the brush out of her hand. She heard it clatter to the floor as he misjudged the distance to the table.

“So … is it done?” she repeated after some time.

He turned to consider the painting. It was a small one of a basket of fruit. “Is a painting ever done? I can always find something to fix. I usually stop when I’ve run out of time or money. Or it’s starting to bore me. You have done very well. You only need practice and a little guiding hand.” He took a step back and nodded. “I think if you continued now you would risk spoiling it. Which is a common beginner’s mistake.”

She sniffed. “I’m not a beginner.”

“You are at this kind of painting. It is less detailed than what you are used to.”

“And yet gives the illusion it is
more
realistic.”

He sighed. “I love that you understand that. That you understand … me.”

Rielle’s heart leapt and drummed out several quick beats before slowing again.
Don’t get too excited
, she told herself
. He didn’t say he loved
me
.

But it was impossible not to feel a thrill as the kissing resumed. Soon they had drifted to the cluster of old chairs. Each movement that necessitated the separation of their lips was resented, but the change of location brought new ways in which parts of their bodies might be pressed together. Rielle loved the feel of his skin under her fingers, warm and smooth. She had been the first one to explore under fabric, sliding hands beneath his shirt. She hadn’t anticipated that he might do the same, but then it hardly seemed fair to object – and it proved to have very pleasant consequences.

She drew the line at removing clothing. He sighed wistfully at her modesty, or restraint.

“You do know I can’t lie with you?” she’d said as she left, the day of the festival.

He’d smiled. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t.” How she’d wanted to add “
yet
” to that.

“I know.” His expression became serious. “I want you, but I would never want you hurt or diminished because of me, Rielle. I can’t avoid that, if you have to choose between me and your family.”

I think I fell in love with him at that moment
, she thought.
At least, consciously.

A door slammed below, and they both jumped. As the sound of hurried footsteps followed, she leapt away and quickly straightened her clothing. Izare rose from the chair gracefully and smoothed his shirt as he walked over to the stairwell and looked down.

“What is it, Errek?”

The footsteps stopped.

“Priests are about. Might be another inspection.” Errek paused. “Is Rielle here?”

Izare sighed. “Yes. Thanks for the warning.”

Rielle moved to the railing and smiled down at Izare’s friend. “Thanks, Errek.”

He shrugged. “Just looking out for our new friend.” He turned and descended to the door, waving once before leaving.

“Well. I’d ask the Angels to curse them, except they’d hardly curse their own priests,” Rielle muttered.

“Ask them to curse the tainted the priests are looking for,” Izare replied darkly. “Or the one who’s teaching them. He’s the reason our homes are being searched so often.” He turned and drew her into a close but quick kiss. “Go. And be careful. They might be chasing this new tainted.”

Her stomach swooped. “Can you come with me?”

He considered, then nodded. “I’ll hide a few things first.”

She tied her scarf around her head, watching as he rearranged a few paintings. He slid his portrait of her into the hollow back of an unfinished spiritual. When he paused before her painting she shook her head.

“Don’t worry. It’s only a practice piece.”

“They might guess that I’m giving lessons,” he said.

“So? They won’t know who you’re teaching.”

He turned away and waved her towards the stairs. “We shouldn’t delay, anyway. Pull your scarf up and keep your head down. You should leave first, then I’ll follow.”

She would rather have walked with him, but his presence behind her was reassuring. He hummed as he walked, letting her know that he was still close by. When they were drawing close to Temple Road she felt a touch at her elbow. She looked back and stopped as she saw he’d caught up with her.

“I’d better go back now.”

She nodded. He smiled and she hoped he would kiss her, but there were people nearby so he winked before turning and hurrying away. As she continued towards home disappointment ate at her. She had little enough time with him as it was, without the priests forcing her to leave early.

Early? I can’t go home early.
She stopped.
Narmah and my parents might notice and wonder why I don’t make it home at this time every quarterday.

But what if it
was
a hunt for a tainted that had brought the priests into this part of the city? She thought of the last time she had seen Stain, and her insides froze. It hadn’t been that far from here. The memory of the crazy old woman sprung into her mind and she shuddered. She now avoided that convergence of streets. Each time she walked home she recalled the strange things the old woman had said. There had been too much of the lure about her words. All that talk of “good reasons”.

The possibility that she had encountered the corrupter was frightening. But she also felt anger at the trouble the woman had caused and the lives she’d ruined. Yet it was followed by guilt.
I should have told Sa-Baro about her. I could have told him what she said. There was no need to tell him I’d seen Stain.
Yet the cryptic things the old woman had said did not prove beyond doubt that she was the corrupter. She could just be a mad old woman who could see Stain – who would tell the priests that Rielle could, too. And what if the priests thought it too much of a coincidence that Rielle had encountered both a tainted and the corrupter, and started to suspect she was more involved with both somehow?

Still, it might be worth the risk, if it led to the corrupter being found.

Rielle began walking again.
I need proof before I take that risk. I need to see her use magic.
The woman was hardly likely to use it in plain sight, however. She’d have to be lured into it. Rielle slowed her steps.
What if I pretend to want to learn magic, then change my mind? Or pretended to fail?

That would be dangerous. The corrupter was a magic user. Who knew what she would to do Rielle if she realised she was being tricked. Besides, if the old woman was the corrupter then surely she would never appear in the same place twice for fear of capture.

So if she is still there, that proves she
isn’t
the corrupter.

Rielle slowed. Which meant there was no harm in checking. This, at least, she could have an answer to. If the woman was the corrupter, she wouldn’t be there. If she wasn’t, she was a crazy, harmless old woman. All Rielle needed to be careful of was not reacting to Stain, if it still lingered there, in case somebody else noticed.