Thief’s Magic (5 page)

He slipped out and crossed the road. The Academy Hotel was quiet, two older men reading papers in the lounge and few staff about. Tyen hurried up the stairs to the dorm he shared with the other students. Though more simply furnished than Kilraker’s suite, it was much finer than the room he shared with Miko back at the Academy itself.

He hauled his bags off the bed he’d claimed when they’d first arrived and took off his boots. Then he settled with his back against the headboard and fished Vella from inside his shirt. Opening to the first page, he waited for the letters to form.

Hello, Tyen.

I have a few hours before the others get back. Can I ask you some questions?

Of course. Answering questions is what I was made for.

Where to start? I have so many. Where are you from? What were you before you became a book? Why did Roporien choose you? How did he make you?

One question at a time is best. Each new question nullifies the previous one.

I beg your pardon. So … Where are you from?

I was born in the city of Ambarlin in the country of Amma in the world Ktayl.

The
world
Ktayl? Are you saying there are other worlds?

Yes.

How many other worlds are there?

Nobody knows. Not even the great Roporien knew.

A lot, then.

Yes.

Tyen felt a thrill of excitement. The theory that other worlds existed was often debated in the Academy. Many historical sources referred to worlds beyond this one, yet nobody had been able to physically prove it. Some well-respected academics believed it to be true. They had formed the Society of Other-Worlders, a group that was mocked, but not as loudly or derisively as other, equally strange societies.

Can you prove that there are other worlds?

I can teach you how to travel between them, if you have the strength – or, as you call it, the reach.

His heart began to race. To explore other worlds … he’d become more famous than Gowel.

How much reach do I need?

That depends on the amount of magic this world contains. From what I have seen of it in your mind so far, I doubt it would be within the reach of any but the most powerful sorcerers.

Tyen’s heart sank. He knew his reach was good, but there had to be plenty of other sorcerers with greater ability than him.

Could you still prove there are other worlds even if I didn’t have enough reach to travel to them?

Judging by your disinclination to believe me when I tell you that creativity generates magic, I doubt it.

He laughed quietly at that.

Tell me more about yourself. How did you meet Roporien?

When I was not many years an adult I travelled to Uff, a great city that attracted artists and writers from all over Ktayl. I established myself as a sorcerer-bookbinder and my wares were soon so sought-after that I began to grow famous and wealthy.

From making books?

Yes. My books were not only beautiful, but they used magic in new ways to display, preserve and hide their contents. They might glow so you could read them in the dark. They might use magic to preserve themselves, so they lasted longer. They might contain a magical lock, or burst into flames if taken too far from their owner. My clients were wealthy and powerful: sorcerers, successful artists, intellectuals, the rich and powerful, and even royalty. That was how Roporien learned of me. He saw one of my books and realised that I knew something he did not, so he came to me to seek my secrets.

And you refused to give them to him?

Of course not! I knew of Roporien, as anyone who moved among the powerful did. Only a fool would deny him what he sought. Since he could read it all from my mind anyway there was no point in trying to hide anything. My mistake was pride. He approached me while I was drinking one night with my friends. They were all artists of one kind or other, and I could see they were impressed and afraid. I wanted to show off and prove I was not fearful, so I invited Roporien to my home. He accepted.

But you were afraid?
Tyen guessed.

A little. But he was also very handsome, or so I thought at the time. I learned later that he could alter his appearance to enhance what a woman found attractive about him. It was said he had always valued artists, for that reason you consider superstitious nonsense.

Tyen went back to read the last two paragraphs again.

Are you saying…?

That I took him as a lover? Yes.

He stared at the book to remind himself that it was a collection of pages and binding that he was conversing with, not a full-grown in-the-flesh woman. Did it make it easier, somehow, to accept what she had told him without thinking less of her? He wasn’t sure.
She lived in a different time and a different place – a whole other world if that is true. Perhaps this was acceptable behaviour for a respected woman in that place and time.

It wasn’t the scandal it would be in this time and place. But it was a stupid thing to do.

Because it led to him making you into a book?

Not directly. But it is dangerous to put yourself in the presence of someone who has lived so long that the lives and feelings of others are of no concern.

He was … you invited an
old man
to your bed?

Yes, but not as you imagine. Roporien was many, many centuries old, but, like most of the unageing, he had the body of a man in his prime.

Unageing? But he is only mentioned in history over a fifty-year period.

He found this world in the last fifty years of his life. As I told you, there are many, many worlds. Even a man as old as Roporien could still discover new ones.

Tyen wanted to ask more questions about Roporien, but he also did not want to stray from Vella’s story.

So what happened that led him to make you into a book?

I showed him the books I had made, including a new kind that I had recently succeeded in creating that allowed the person holding it to write on the page using mere thought. But in creating it I’d had another leap of insight, and saw a way to make that writing remain invisible until the reader willed it to appear. He was impressed. In the morning I rose to find him examining the book closely. He lifted me up and laid me on the table, but I realised too late that his purpose was not seduction. Instead he began to make his own book, using my body as the sole source of his materials.

Tyen shuddered.
He killed you.

I am not dead.

But you’re not walking and breathing either. Surely you aren’t happy with what was done to you?

I am not happy, but neither am I unhappy.

You were rich and young and I imagine you were beautiful, too. He took all of that away. I’d be furious!

I do not feel in the way that I would if I had a whole body to express it with. I
know
that what was done was cruel and unjust. I am aware of the absence of a body somewhat like an amputee is conscious of the absence of a limb. But without it I cannot rage or grieve.

Can you feel pain?

No. Not since the transformation began.

Since it began
. So most of it did not hurt?

Yes. His work was easier once he blocked the pain.

How did he … no, I don’t want to know.

You do, but you fear I will be offended by your revulsion or distressed by the memory. I do not mind. Remember, I cannot feel such emotions.

Tyen looked at the book lying open in his hands, noticing for the first time the elegance of the script, and a sadness welled up inside him. She hadn’t asked to be made into a book. If she could not feel emotions then she had lost not only the ability to feel fear or revulsion, but also love and hope. She might have lived a thousand years, but not as a whole person.

He heard familiar laughter from somewhere beyond the door and sighed. Closing the book, he slipped her into his satchel.

The Academy had better take good care of you, Vella
, he thought.
You’ve been through too much to end your life unconscious and slowly deteriorating in a lost corner of the vault.

S
ome time during their night in Palga the helpful breeze that had shooed them out of Mailand turned into a bossy gale. It shoved the aircart along with unnerving gusts that had them straddling the deck and holding on tightly as if it was some kind of untamed beast. They flew as low as possible in case they needed to make a hasty landing, but it meant they had to steer well clear of tall obstacles.

The wind was blowing in the right direction, at least. Several times Kilraker had considered landing and waiting out the weather, but the advantage of having such a strong wind in their favour was that it reduced their journey from several weeks to less than one. And these gales could last a number of days.

They dared not fly over the Northern Straights in such weather, however, so when they reached the city of Widport, the closest on the Western continent to the island of Leratia, they holed up until a steamship arrived. Once on board, Tyen, Miko and Neel took turns on guard duty watching over the aircart in the cargo hold for the three, gut-wrenching days it took to get to mainland Leratia.

From there they boarded the recently extended East-to-West Railsled for a much more civilised final leg of the journey home. Though not as thrilling as air travel, railsled was still the fastest and most comfortable form of transport to be developed in the last century. It was also the most reliable, since the storms that were so dangerous to aircarts and ships did not stop a railsled.

They pulled into the East-to-West Leratian station the next afternoon. As Kilraker supervised the removal of the aircart by crane from the freight sled to a waiting longcart, Tyen listened to the rain hammering on the glass-panelled roof high above and couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed to be back. He longed for the simple comforts of the boarding room in the Academy, but once he arrived he ought to hand Vella over.

Could he get away with delaying that moment? Since Palga he’d had few opportunities to talk to the book, and there was still so much he needed to teach her before he gave her up.

If he did at all.

He jumped as a hand slapped him on the shoulder.

“Not as convenient as landing the aircart on the Academy lawn, but at least we’re all in one piece,” Kilraker said, smiling. “Good work back there, young Tyen Ironsmelter. You certainly earned your place on this expedition. I’d have you as co-driver any day. You’ve got a real knack for flying.”

Tyen felt his face warm at the compliment. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Now, I’ll ride back with the cart, but there’s no room for you three. Catch a three-seater to the Academy. I’ll have your bags sent to your rooms.” His smile widened into a grin. “See you in class, my fellow adventurers.”

He tapped his hat to them in farewell, strode to the longcart and swung up next to the driver. As the vehicle moved away, Miko turned to Tyen and Neel and put a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Can I owe you for the ride, my fellow adventurers? I’m broke.”

Tyen shrugged and nodded. He could afford half the fare. Then his stomach sank as he saw that Neel was shaking his head.

“Mother always insists I visit her as soon as I arrive back from any trip. I’ll see you at the Academy later.” Neel tugged his cap brim and headed for the station entrance.

Miko sent Tyen a disbelieving look, but said nothing as they turned to follow. Neel could have easily lived at home and caught a one-seater to and from the Academy each day – in truth, he would have been driven there in the family’s carriage – but he’d taken the opportunity to escape his parents by requesting a room in the students’ house.
Or so he says
, Tyen thought
. Maybe his parents make him stay there, knowing that he’d never go to classes at all if he didn’t live in sight of the professors.

They emerged from the station to the usual roar of the city, made louder by the rain beating down and the splash and rush of water in the drains. The city’s usual stink had been reduced by the downpour, thankfully. Dung collectors were rushing to pick up the droppings of morni, the thin-legged animal that hauled the city’s carriages, before the rain washed them away.

Though most of the pay-by trips had been hired by the other railsled passengers, plenty of one-seaters were waiting, drivers perched atop the smaller breed of morni suited to the light vehicles. Neel hurried through the rain to one and was soon borne away. Tyen and Miko joined the queue for two-seaters under the station awning. Four two-seaters arrived before it was their turn. As their luck had it, the next one to arrive had a leaky canopy and was pulled by a bedraggled morni that looked about ready to expire – something Miko pointed out as he failed to haggle down the price. The driver flatly refused to give them a discount. Why would he when there were plenty of passengers waiting for a ride in this miserable weather?

The city was cluttered with traffic. Overflowing drains forced vehicles closer to the centre of the street, where they passed with barely a finger’s width to spare. Tyen tucked his satchel inside his coat and winced as the wheels of other vehicles sent spray over his legs. Rain bounced off the sides of carriages and shop awnings into their laps with unerring accuracy. He could have used magic to protect them, but to do so would have risked a fine. Only in the Academy grounds was he allowed to use it for anything other than his own or his country’s defence. Elsewhere it was needed to drive railsleds and the numerous other machines of industry.
And the last thing I want to do is cause an aircart or aircarriage to fall from the sky
, he thought
.