Thief’s Magic (43 page)

“Veroo!” Sezee shouted. “Come on!”

He turned to see that Veroo was leading the driver up the beach. The man was limping, but not badly. He was a few years older than Tyen and definitely Wendlandish. Veroo reached a rock and helped him sit down. She stepped away and hurried to the cart.

“I don’t think he’ll be any trouble now. He’s terrified of you.” She looked amused. “All set?”

Tyen nodded. “Get on board.”

They ducked under the rope railing and stepped up onto the chassis. He let go of the aircart, allowing it to rise again. The women gripped the capsule support struts uneasily as the cart began to rise.

“Sit down,” he advised as he moved to the front. He climbed into the driver’s seat then glanced back to check that they were in place. They were sitting either side of the capsule’s front support strut, legs straddling the canoe-shaped chassis. “And hang on.” Sending a trickle of magic to the capsule, he heated air and sent them rapidly upward. Below, the driver watched, pale face tilted. Tyen felt a pang of sympathy.

Losing an aircart is bad enough, but losing it through such misjudgement has got to sting.
The driver ought to have demanded the ship take them to the nearest port. Or at least have brought another sorcerer with him. He’d probably been acting on his own in the hopes of getting the reward, and not considered what he’d do if Tyen proved to be a stronger sorcerer.

What would I have done if he hadn’t been so foolish and weak? Would I have been willing to kill him?
He wasn’t sure. As far as he knew, the Academy’s reward was for his capture, not death. If the worse he faced was a lifetime in prison, was he justified in ending someone’s life to avoid that? A life in captivity was a wasted life, but it wasn’t death.

He sighed. He’d been lucky this time. The last stroke of luck he’d enjoyed had been followed by a setback.
I’m not safe yet
, he reminded himself. Setting the propellers whirring, he turned the aircart towards the sea.

“Tyen.”

He turned to see that Veroo had shuffled along the chassis to get closer to him and be heard over the propeller noise.

“Yes?”

“You’re not making the sea crossing now are you?”

“No, just getting some distance between us and the driver. We need to head further south, where the eastern and southern continents are closest.”

“How long until we do?”

“A few days.”

“And how long will the crossing take?

“Three days, if the weather is good and the wind in our favour.”

Veroo frowned. “Then we’re going to have to stop somewhere for food and warmer clothes for you.”

Tyen’s heart sank. “Yes. We will have to be careful. Land at night to sleep and buy food in small villages.”

“And you’ll have to teach me how to fly so we can take turns.”

He shook his head. “Women don’t fly.”

“They don’t learn sorcery either,” she retorted. “Do you think I’m too weak and emotional for it?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. But the sight of a woman driving an aircart will be talked about from here to Belton.”

“You can teach me after we start crossing, then. You can’t fly for three days straight.”

She was right. He could stay awake for three days, but by the time he reached land again he’d be exhausted. Not a good state to be in, if he had to make a difficult landing. Yet teaching her to drive when they were far from shore would be dangerous, too. A big enough mistake could force them to land in the water, far from help.

But it was a small danger compared to what they’d face if they were caught up in bad weather. He only needed to teach her how to drive in a straight line. Launching, landing and manoeuvring were trickier, as they involved timing and avoiding obstacles, but unnecessary in the middle of sea crossing.

“You’d better get comfortable, but not so comfortable that you fall asleep and slip off.” He turned back to see them both regarding him with fearful expressions. “I’ll keep low so you don’t get too cold. Otherwise … I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night.”

V
eroo has picked up flying so quickly
, Tyen told Vella.
The Academy was foolish for turning her away.

Hoarding magical knowledge is a common form of defence.

But her country is part of the Empire, not an enemy.

It is a conquered land. Rebellion is always possible.

Surely that’s more likely if it is denied the benefits of belonging to the Empire. And even if everyone in the West Isles with the ability learned magic, there wouldn’t be enough sorcerers to overthrow the Leratian Empire.

If all lands colonised by Leratia were to do so, would there be enough?

Tyen frowned.
Perhaps. But … Veroo is no threat on her own. Just one woman …

Who can teach others. Her gender is no obstacle in her country, either.

Yes, I see your point. It seems like a waste not to teach her, though, and anyone with magical ability.

It is. It may be sensible for the Empire’s defence, but it is limiting for the Academy. Restricting knowledge slows the pace of development. The fewer sorcerers free to learn and teach, the less time is spent experimenting and making new discoveries.

And yet this last century has been a time of great advancement.

For the Empire. Every time it conquered new lands it absorbed new knowledge. Even small discoveries, like a more efficient way to record information, can lead to great change.

Like printing presses. Their earliest form was a system used by the equatorial tribes. Their inventor always said he couldn’t accept full credit for it.
Tyen smiled.
I guess you would have had the same effect, if he’d read of the system from your pages instead of the tribes’.

Yes. That was Roporien’s intention. Most of what he knew he’d learned in the first few hundred years of his life. The older he got, the longer it took to discover new information until it was more profitable to him to wait for geniuses to be born, grow up and make new discoveries than for him to travel in search of them.

Why did he continue looking for new knowledge?

He took a certain pride in knowing more than anyone else, perhaps anyone who had ever existed. That way nobody could defeat him simply by being better informed.

And yet that didn’t protect him. He still died. So … how did he die?

I don’t know. Nobody I have encountered knew. There was a rumour that it was a more powerful sorcerer. A man they called the Successor.

Successor? Roporien’s son?

No. His replacement. There is a belief held in many worlds that a sorcerer as powerful as Roporien is born once every thousand cycles – a cycle being a unit of time a little longer than this world’s year. When this Successor comes to full strength he will kill the old one. It is known as Millennium’s Rule.

Do you believe it to be true?

I believe nothing. I only store information, and I do not contain enough to prove if the Rule is correct.

Was there a powerful sorcerer before Roporien, who he killed when he was young?

Yes. A sorcerer tried to kill him who was stronger than any he’d encountered before. He defeated the man, despite being far less experienced in magical duelling.

Then Roporien’s Successor is still out there?

If my calculations are correct, it is a little over a thousand cycles since Roporien died. His Successor will have already been defeated by his own Successor, if the Rule holds truth.

Do Successors ever fail?

I have no record of one failing. It is possible that one may be killed before acquiring the knowledge of agelessness, or from inexperience or simple bad luck.

Tyen looked up from the pages, barely registering the sea stretching below and around the aircart as a sudden longing filled him to see these other worlds and know if Roporien’s Successor still lived. Though if the man was that powerful, it would be safer to find out without actually meeting him. Roporien had been a cruel man. Who knew what his replacement was like? Or the man who might already have defeated him? Either way, a Successor had to have killed at least one man.

“Tyen.”

He looked up to find Sezee making her way along the aircart towards him. Unlike Veroo, she had not grown used to riding on the narrow chassis. Standing up in view of the sea far below made her head spin, so she crawled up and down the chassis on all fours. Before they’d set out across the ocean she had changed into a bodice and jacket that buttoned up to her throat for warmth. While that prevented the view of her crawling towards him from being distractingly indecent, she had also donned a pair of pantaloons, which made watching her crawling
away
from him an entirely different matter.

She had also insisted they attach some strong netting between the rope railing and the chassis on both sides for most of its length to reduce the chances she’d slip off the side of the aircart. He’d chafed at the delay, but came to appreciate the netting’s value as a more comfortable safety measure to the usual straps that held a passenger in place when sleeping.

Closing Vella, he slipped her into his coat pocket.

“It’s my turn to drive?” he asked.

“Yes, but that’s not what you need to see.” She stopped, settled onto one hip and smiled. “Have you noticed the lites?”

He looked around. Sure enough, several species of the winged creatures were visible, gliding above or skimming the water below. Some were migratory, or spent most of their life over the ocean. Others were coastal, visiting the sea only to feed, which meant …

“Land,” he said, shading his eyes and peering towards the west. “We must be close.”

“Yes.” She grinned. “We’re nearly there.”

He got to his feet, holding the capsule support strut for balance. “Oh, we have a long way to go still. We have an entire mountain range to cross.”

Carefully stepping past her, he made his way to the front of the aircart, where Veroo sat with her skirts hitched up and stockinged legs dangling over the edge of the seat.

“Tyen,” she said. “Warfare was part of your aircart training, wasn’t it? Do you have any aerial battle experience?”

He laughed. “Yes to the first, no to the second. Why do you ask?”

She let go of the wheel with one hand and pointed towards the north. “Is that what I think it is?”

His heart skipped a beat as he turned to stare northward. It took him a while to find the tiny shape, and if they had not been flying so low he would not have seen it easily against the sea. It, too, wasn’t more than a few hundred paces above the water. The capsule was pointed at the front and seemed larger than the average aircart’s, though not as big as an aircarriage capsule. Though he was seeing it from nearly directly front on, something about the shape of the propeller arms was familiar. His stomach sank as he realised what it was.

“That,” he said, “is a Dart, one of the Empire’s fighting carts. Designed for speed. There’ll be two sorcerers on board – one to fly and shield it so the other is free to fight.”

“Will they have seen us?”

“Definitely.”

“Are they hunting us?”

“It would be wise to assume so.”

“Will we reach the shore before they get here?”

“I don’t know. We have no choice but to try. Increase the speed of the propellers.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “You want me to keep flying?”

“Do
you
have any fighting training or experience?”

She smiled grimly and turned back to grip the wheel with both hands. Tyen made his way back to Sezee.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

She nodded, her eyes wide. “Most of it. Should I strap myself in?”

He shook his head. “If the cart falls, try to leap off and outward before we land, or you might be caught and dragged under the water. Can you swim?”

“Of course.” She gave him a lofty look. “Everyone on the islands learns to swim. Can you?”

He grimaced. “No. If we cut the capsule off before it sinks the chassis should float. It’s mostly wood.”

“But the capsule is full of air.”

“If we hit the water it’s unlikely it will be.” The buzz of the propellers had steadily increased and the vibration began to shake the chassis. He could hear the capsule support struts creaking. “No more, Veroo,” he called. “Or the cart will shake itself apart.”

Looking northward, he noted how much closer the other cart was. He could see enough detail to confirm his suspicions were right. It was a Dart and it was flying at full speed, directly towards them. Looking over Veroo’s shoulder, he saw a jagged blue shape above the horizon and his heart leapt. Mountains.

The wind was still at their back, driving them towards land. He looked from the mountains to the Dart and back, again and again, trying to gauge the advance of both. As time crawled by, the peaks slowly grew and joined at the base to form a coastline, while the Dart doubled and tripled in size. He shook his head. It was going to be close. Even if they made it to land in time they’d still have two sorcerers experienced in aerial conflict to deal with. All they’d gain was a chance of landing on firm ground if the aircart was damaged.

They had a little time to ready themselves, fortunately. Tyen moved to the back and untied his satchel from where he’d kept it bound onto the chassis, transferred Vella to it and slung it over his head and one shoulder. It wouldn’t save Vella or Beetle from a dunking, but he’d be less likely to lose them than if he put them in his pockets. If they survived this, he decided, he would modify Beetle so it could swim.

He then transferred most of Kilraker’s remaining money to Sezee’s bag. The paper notes would be ruined by water and the coins would weigh him down. The Empire’s coinage would probably be worthless in the Far South anyway, which no doubt had a money system of its own. For a second he was a little breathless, wondering how he would survive in a strange land with no money.