Thief’s Magic (49 page)

“Sa-Baro?” another voice said.

The priest turned and she saw that the scarred one had entered the room. Sa-Baro nodded and retreated from the gate. He started for the exit, but as he passed the scarred priest he stopped.

“Sa-Mica,” he said quietly. “Keep a close eye on Sa-Gest.”

The scarred priest nodded. “I will.”

“You know…?”

“Yes. Rest assured, the Mountain Temple is the only appropriate place for men like him, isolated from the innocents he would harm here.”

Rielle staggered back, recoiling as if struck by the words.
Sa-Gest is coming with us. Sa-Gest will be working at the prison.
She could not breathe. She fell back onto the bench.

Then she realised what this meant. Sa-Gest would not be in Fyre. Surely he could not cause trouble for Izare and her family from afar. A mad hope filled her. Once he had left Fyre she would be free to speak of Sa-Gest’s threats.

Except that he could always return to Fyre, or make arrangements from afar. So long as he was alive, he was a danger. At least she could ensure he was only a danger to her.

“What is wrong?”

She looked up. Sa-Mica stood at the gate, his dark eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered what control she could and laughed bitterly.

“What isn’t?

“It was something Sa-Baro said, wasn’t it? He’s gone now. You may speak.”

She looked away so that he would not see her anger.
So I can talk now, can I? Well, too bad. You’ll get nothing out of me. After all, I’ve been told to be quiet, not to complain or criticise, to stay silent all my life. I’ve had plenty of practice at it.
It was a pathetic kind of resistance, but it was all she had.

When her refusal to answer outlasted his patience, he sighed.

“There is more to this. Don’t think that I will not discover it.”

She ignored him, and remained immobile until he left.

T
he most Rielle managed that night was a fitful doze. Every time she raised her head to look, the young priest was still reading his book. The only gauge she had for the passing of time was how far through it he’d read. It was a large book, but she had no idea how fast he was reading, or if he skipped sections when she wasn’t watching. He had been near the start when she’d lain down to sleep. When she roused herself and found he was reaching the end she began to anticipate the day. Then she wished she hadn’t thought to note his progress, as she spent the next unknown measure of time fully awake and expecting the door to open at any moment.

When it did, she wished that it hadn’t.

The guard snapped his book shut and stood, turning to face the visitor. Rielle’s heart began to race as Sa-Elem entered. She swung her legs off the bench and sat up. The scarred priest from the day before followed Sa-Elem. He approached her, his face set and grim, and pushed a bundle of fabric through the bars of the gate.

“Remove your clothes and shoes and put this on.”

She took it. As it unfurled in her hands she felt a wave of nausea. It was a long tube of fabric – little more than a sack – with holes cut in the sides and top. The edges were unfinished. A memory rose of her abductor dressed in ragged, dirty trousers, filthy from the rotten food and muck thrown at him. Her stomach twisted.

There would be no more waiting. They were taking her from Fyre today.

At least I’ll be covered from the shoulders down
, she thought. She looked at the priests nervously. Surely they weren’t going to watch her dress. They exchanged a glance, then turned their backs. She breathed a sigh of relief.

She changed quickly, hoping they wouldn’t notice that she’d kept her undergarments on. The rough sacking only came to her knees and her arms were bare. She’d never felt so exposed while still wearing clothing. Shivering, she replaced her scarf and turned around.

“I’m done,” she murmured.

They turned to face her. Sa-Elem unlocked the gate and handed her a pair of sandals. They comprised simple hide soles with rope straps. She slipped them on and tied them. Sa-Elem beckoned, and as she stepped out of the cell he pulled off her scarf. She opened her mouth to object but was shocked into silence as he lifted a blade. Before she could shy away he stepped behind her, grasped her hair in one hand and pulled firmly. She felt the pressure and heard the shush of the blade slicing through hair, then her head was free to move again.

A familiar weight was gone. She saw it held within Sa-Elem’s hands, glossy, black and straight, before he dropped it into a wooden bowl held by the guard. Her throat closed at the loss. Then she heard a metallic rattle and a shiver ran down her spine.

Sa-Mica stepped forward holding heavy chains.

She swallowed hard. “I am co-operating,” she forced out. “I won’t try to run. Are those truly necessary?”

“They are to convince others that you are no danger to them,” he told her.

She stared at the chains, feeling sick. The priests paused, then Sa-Elem took her arm and lifted it. A loop went around her left wrist and was fastened with a lock. Another encircled the right, then Sa-Mica bent to do the same with her ankles. The two chains were linked by a third. Finally, the cold weight of metal settled around her neck, the length of “lead” draping against her spine. She shivered violently.

“Keep the leg chain off the ground and you’ll be less likely to trip,” the scarred priest recommended in a neutral tone, as if he was teaching her nothing more alarming than how to dance in a long skirt.

Looking down, she found it too easy to picture how pathetic she looked. Like the abductor … but not exactly. He’d had his hands bound behind his back. Was this some strange sort of kindness, or had they made a mistake?

What did it matter? The end result would be humiliating either way.

The two priests exchanged a look. Sa-Mica nodded, then started towards the door. Sa-Elem placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing to indicate that she should follow. Lifting her hands so that the connecting chain to her legs rose from the floor, Rielle stepped forward.

It was easier to walk than she’d expected. Her abductor had shuffled awkwardly, his steps shortened. She couldn’t have made a full stride, and certainly not run, but she was able to walk without trouble. Sa-Mica led her through the door and along the underground passages. All too soon they reached the stairs to the building above. These took a little deliberate co-ordination of the chains to ascend. The priests did not hurry her.

At the top she entered the splendour of the temple. A fresh, familiar scent filled her nose. First they entered a short passage, then passed through a carved door into the main hall. It was, thankfully, empty but for a few priests with mops and buckets. A sloshing behind her told her they had resumed cleaning the floor. They chanted as they worked. Something about cleansing the taint from the temple.
How appropriate
, she mused.

Sa-Mica set a stately pace as he led the way down towards the main doors. The chanting did not fade as they walked. Were the priests following? She resisted the urge to look back until Sa-Mica slowed to meet more priests standing at the main doors. When she did, it was like a blow to her gut. They
were
following her. They were sweeping their mops over where she had walked. It was
her
taint they were washing away.

Before she could stop herself, she looked up at the huge painting covering the back of the hall. Her gaze snapped to the Angel punishing the tainted and something inside her shrivelled, but she could not look away. What was it going to feel like to have her soul shredded to nothing?

The sound of the door opening jolted her into motion. Tearing her eyes away, Rielle forced herself to turn and face whatever waited outside, telling herself that it could not be as bad as her final moments would be. Sunlight streamed into the hall, dazzling her. As it had so often before, when she and the temple girls had left after their lessons. As it had the day she’d been abducted by the tainted.

Sa-Koml’s voice boomed from somewhere close by as he announced her crime and called on the Angels and citizens of Fyre to cast her out. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a crowd watching. That didn’t surprise her, but it was a smaller crowd than she had expected considering how large the one that had followed the abductor had been. How long ago had they heard that a tainted was to be driven from the city? Surely not long. But news spread fast and would soon bring more hecklers.

The people who stared at her looked more curious than angry, but as they took in her appearance she saw ugly scowls appear, and a chilling kind of glee. She saw herself in their eyes: chained, shorn, partially dressed in rags. Reduced to a shameful sight so that they might imagine they were safe. A reminder of what would happen to them, should they be tempted to steal from the Angels.

To one side was a small cart and as she saw who stood behind it she shuddered. Sa-Gest’s expression was sober, but his eyes glinted with expectation. She looked away, reminding herself that so long as he was far from Fyre her family and Izare were safe.

From somewhere Sa-Elem produced a bell and swung it. The sound echoed in the hall behind her and spilled out into the courtyard.

“Go,” he said.

Glancing at him, she found him watching her expectantly. The abductor had walked before the priests, she remembered. So must she.

That means I can set the pace
, she realised.
Well, then. Let’s get this over with.

Hoisting the chain, she started down the stairs. As she hoped, the crowd shrank back, allowing her through. Without hesitating, she strode forward. People tripped over themselves in their haste to get away. She saw malicious glee turn to fear.

Something flew past her head. She flinched from it, too late to have avoided it if the thrower’s aim had been better. Catching an oncoming object in the corner of her eye, she threw up her hands to block it. But the chains pulled her arms up short and something soft and wet smacked into her forehead. The smell of rotten fruit turned her stomach as liquid spilled down her face. She shook the drops off before they could drip into her eyes.

Cheers burst from the crowd, then more missiles. She paused, crouching, her arms raised in self-defence, and felt a patter against her back and shoulders, some strikes harder than others. When the attack slowed she straightened again and forced herself onward. A moving target was harder to hit. It would be impossible to avoid all of the missiles, but perhaps if she kept an eye out for anything coming straight at her she could protect her face in time.

The crowd seemed to surround her completely and she realised she had become disorientated. Looking back, she noted the priests walking behind her, Sa-Elem holding the end of the chain and Sa-Gest pushing the cart. A quick, careful search of the buildings ahead told her where Temple Road began and she headed towards it.

She realised then that she could not set the pace. If she walked too quickly more was thrown at her. At most she could manage a steady walk. The crowd grew bigger and nastier. Not long after she had started down Temple Road something solid hit her shoulder and she yelped with pain.

A voice boomed out behind her.

“NO STONES,” Sa-Elem ordered.

She took a few steps before any more missiles flew towards her. Those that did exploded a handspan from her body as if hitting an invisible wall.
Magic!
She shivered and resisted the urge to look behind. Stain would be radiating outwards from a priest like an Angel’s halo. She didn’t need a reminder of either. After several steps the missiles began to strike her again, and the crowd cheered in response.

The same had happened when the abductor had been driven out of the city. A conversation rose from her memory:

“
Why don’t they protect him the whole time?
” she had asked Izare.

“
They must keep the crowd happy.
”

She looked at the buildings but if she was near the place they had watched from she couldn’t tell. The crowd lined the streets. People stood in doorways to get a better view. Others hung out of windows. Was Izare among them? She searched the faces, realising that she had been looking for him ever since she’d left the temple.

Would he come out to watch?
Or would he hide away, afraid that people would turn on him for harbouring her? Something trickled out of her hair into her eyes and she wiped it away. She had hoped at first that he would come to see her one last time, but now she hoped he wouldn’t. Something inside her shrank at the thought of him seeing her with her hair cut off and bound with chains.

Would he visit her in prison? Would her parents? Was it allowed? She had no idea how far away the Mountain Temple was. She’d never heard of it before the examination. Nobody knew where the tainted were taken. Nobody except the priests, that is.

Four more times she was stung by hard objects. She learned to take advantage of the brief respite that came after to lengthen her stride and cover more ground, though the rope straps of the sandals began to chafe her feet and the weight of the chains made her shoulders ache.

It was during one of these rare moments of protection that she reached a section of Temple Road where the crowd had thinned out on the left. A few steps later there was nobody linking the street on that side and she saw why.

The wall of the dyeworks stretched before her. Words had been painted across its surface. She froze in horror.

TAINTED FILTH.

Something hard hit her forehead and her sight went dark. She clasped a hand to her head and swayed but managed to keep her feet. She would have a lump there later. There was a lump in her throat, too, though she could not remember a stone striking it. The pain was making her eyes water.

“It’s not their fault,” she said aloud, though nobody could hear.
No
,
it’s mine.
After all the years of hard work her family had put into establishing the dyeworks as the best in Fyre, she had ruined it with one stupid, foolish mistake.