Thief’s Magic (51 page)

Abruptly, Miko’s words flashed out of his memory. “
It’s like she’s your girl. Like you’re in love with her. With a book. Mad.
”

Was he in love with Vella? He paused, searching for the emotions he found lacking when he thought of Sezee. Something stirred. Not passion. Something more like loyalty. And protectiveness. He cared about her. He wanted to help her.

And, strange as it may be
, he thought,
I really want to meet her. I don’t think that I am in love with her but … I want the possibility of it.

He drew in a deep breath, let it out again and felt acceptance settle within him. He did not love Sezee. Neither did he love Vella, at least not in the usual sense, but he was dedicated to protecting her and seeking a way to free her. Knowing that she would see this when he touched her, he took her out of his pocket and opened her cover again.

Are you sure, Tyen? Love could grow from what you feel for her. You may be throwing away a chance of happiness for the sake of an ancient object occupied by an incomplete person.

I am sure.

If you change your mind it will not hurt me. What you seek to do may be impossible.

I know. But I must satisfy myself that I have given it my best effort. You know you can’t convince me otherwise. Perhaps we’ll find the answer here in the Far South. And while I know you don’t have much information about this place, there are other questions you can answer. Like: what might be the best ways to establish friendly communications with a people who don’t speak our language?

For the next few hours Tyen consulted Vella, pausing only to survey the land they were flying above. Sezee brought him and Veroo some food and water, then returned to the security of the netting.

She is more frightened by heights than she wants to admit
, Vella told him. Sezee smiled as he glanced up at her, but when he sneaked another glance he saw her look downward, shudder, then close her eyes.

“Look!” Veroo called, her arm extending as she pointed towards the mountains.

Tyen peered under the railing, searching in the direction she had indicated. The lowering sun brightened the face of a cliff wall with a warm light. The sheer surface undulated like a ribbon standing on edge, growing wider the further west it stretched. Details were revealed as they flew closer, and along the wall. In places, erosion had left isolated fragments of this wall behind, sometimes as a narrow spit, sometimes a spire joined by a curtain of rock, and sometimes a lone spire.

“I see it,” Sezee said. She grinned at Tyen. “Spirecastle!”

He frowned as he searched for the castle. It would be one of the smaller spires, he decided. His eyes were drawn instead to unnaturally straight lines below: roads, the square edges of fields, and forest giving way to the patterns of human inhabitation and cultivation.

The larger roads all led to a great cluster of buildings around a pinnacle that had once been a part of the cliff, but now stood alone. Large birds spiralled around the spire. In the creases of stone were numerous openings and some of the birds swooped into these. A movement at one of the openings made him look twice and he finally saw what Sezee and Veroo had noticed.

The openings were windows or doorways onto balconies. People stood within both, watching the aircart.

This enormous pinnacle was Spirecastle.

Though Gowel had said it was carved out of a rock spire, Tyen had imagined it shaped to look like a building. As they drew closer, he made out clusters of ropes strung between the pinnacle and the cliff face. Standing up, he slipped Vella into his shirt so she would continue to see their approach. He moved past Sezee to stand near the front.

“Don’t drive into the ropes,” he advised.

Veroo nodded, but her attention was elsewhere. “Those people,” she said. “They’re flying.”

He looked closer and caught his breath as he realised she was right. What he’d assumed were birds were actually humans, gliding from dark opening to dark opening. As he watched he saw one leap from a balcony, but instead of their dive taking them downward they soared to one side, circling the tower. A faint trail of Soot followed, amazingly small for the amount of magic they must have used.

“They’re children,” Sezee said, behind him. She sounded shocked. “Why children?”

“Because they are smaller and lighter so don’t use as much magic?” Tyen suggested.

“It seems a very dangerous pastime.”

“Can you sense it, Tyen?” Veroo asked. She looked up at him. “The magic…”

As soon as she said it, he felt it. The magic around the tower was subtly different. Was more
condensed
there than anywhere else. It radiated outward and slightly towards the cliff.

“What do you want to do?” Sezee asked.

Tyen considered the crowds gathering on the balconies. It was impossible to judge whether they were friendly or not. If the flying children were able to venture away from the spire’s face with weapons they could easily damage the aircart. Yet Gowel had said they were friendly.

“Circle around and climb higher than the spire so we avoid the ropes on the cliff side.”

“You mean the bridges?”

He looked again. The scale had confused his perceptions again. The tangles of ropes were larger and more organised than he’d first guessed. Many did form bridges, others appeared to be part of a pulley system, perhaps to transport large objects. On the cliff side he could now make out paths carved into the face and a large cave opening where the ends of three of the bridges were secured. He turned back to Veroo.

“We’ll land if they invite us to, though I doubt there will be a place large enough to put the aircart down. We could tether it, I suppose, but if we have bad weather it could dash itself to pieces against the spire.”

“Do you want to take control?”

He shook his head. “No. It’ll be safer if you steer us close and then leave it to me to land the cart with magic. Leave the heating of the capsule air to me.”

Nearly all of the openings in the upper part of the spire were occupied by people now, from the largest opening to the smallest. None appeared to be carrying weapons, Tyen noted. He heated the capsule further, sending them upward. As they passed over the top of the spire a wide, flat area, sheltered and hidden by walls on three sides, came into view.

The men occupying this place wore armour and at their waists hung the sheaths of what were either long knives or short swords. Their weapons weren’t drawn, however. They stood in two lines on either side of two men. One of these central figures had the stature of a short but fit man, midway between Tyen’s age and his middle years. He wore a generous coat of a rich, dark green with fur around the collar and cuffs. The other man was grey-haired and a little broader around the middle, wearing a simple dark grey coat with no adornment. Both were staring up at the aircart. The younger man lifted an arm towards them and waved.

“Ooh, that would be the king,” Sezee exclaimed.

“How do you know that?” Tyen asked.

“You said they had a king. Who else would be on top of the spire, waiting to greet us, but the person in charge?”

“He appears to be inviting us to land,” Veroo added.

The man Sezee assumed was the king had brought his arm down in a sweeping motion to gesture at the space between the guards.

Tyen looked back at Sezee. “Shall we land? We have to trust that Gowel was telling the truth about them being friendly.”

“Or that by the time he left they hadn’t learned to feel less friendly towards northerners,” she added. “He doesn’t sound like a particularly honest man.”

“I can’t see why he would deliberately anger them, when he was here to try to establish trade.”

Sezee nodded. “I think it’s worth the risk. If they don’t like northerners, it won’t matter where we land, will it? Better to make friends with the people at the top and hope that everyone else will follow suit.”

The green-coated man made the gesture again.

“Steer us in, Veroo,” Tyen said, then hurried back to the rear to uncoil the landing ropes.

Veroo did a good job of it, and would have entered the sheltered alcove exactly in the centre if a gust of wind hadn’t pushed the cart to the side at the last moment. Tyen steadied it with magic. The guards hurried forward to grab the ropes. Clearly they had done this before. Tyen let air out of the capsule, but not all of it in case they had mistaken the benevolent intentions of the locals and needed to make a quick exit. Though if the guards turned on them and slashed the capsule open they’d be stuck.

The man who might be the king and his companion were smiling broadly as the chassis settled onto firm ground. Tyen stepped off first and, as Vella had advised, bowed as he would have if visiting the Emperor. He then turned to help Sezee and Veroo to alight. They followed his lead and curtsied.

The old man took a step forward.

“Ffelcome to Tyeszal, ffissiters of the north,” he said. He gestured to the younger man. “I introduss you to Mzelssa Cryll, leader of Sseltee.”

Gowel and his crew must have taught this man some Leratian
, Tyen thought.
Or at least a few formal phrases.
He bowed again.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” he replied, speaking slowly. “It is an honour to meet you, Mzelssa Cryll, leader of Sseltee. I am Aren Coble of Leratia.” They had agreed that he should use the name Sezee had given him, just in case the Academy did guess he’d crossed the mountains. “This is Veroo Anoil and Sezee Anoil, of the West Isles.”

The old man translated for the king. When he was done, the young ruler stepped forward. He held out his hands, palms outward, to Tyen. As Vella had advised, Tyen imitated the gesture tentatively, indicating his willingness to oblige as well as an apology for his ignorance of custom. The king smiled and pressed his palms lightly against Tyen’s, then turned to Veroo and Sezee.

After they had participated in the greeting he then stepped back and spoke, glancing at the old man as he finished.

“Cryll ffishes to know ffat you sseek in Sseltee,” the old man told them.

“We seek knowledge,” Tyen replied. “Veroo seeks training in magic and Sezee has travelled with her as a companion.” He paused, still unsure how to communicate what he wanted.

“And you?” the old man urged.

“I seek the same and more. I wish to learn about the Far – the Sseltee.”

The old man nodded. “As did the Leratians who last came here.”

“Yes. They sought to trade with you. I only wish to … learn.”

The man’s face brightened. “A true erafhei,” he said. “People seeking for the seeking…” He touched his forehead, then gestured all around them.

“Those who learn for the sake of learning,” Tyen agreed. “True scholars.”

The old man turned to the king and an exchange followed in which the younger looked, to Tyen’s relief, quite pleased.

“Cryll asks that you stay here days of three or more so he might learn more of you and your places?”

Tyen nodded. “We would be honoured.”

The old man communicated that to the king, who smiled at each of them then walked away. Tyen looked to the translator, who extended his palms to indicate they should stay where they were.

“Cryll will speak to you later. I show you place to rest and sleep and tell you law of city,” he said. He placed a hand on his chest. “I am Ysser. Sorcerer to Cryll.” He looked at the aircart. “This ffill need…” He made gestures that expressed remarkably well the collapsing and tying of the capsule.

“Yes.”

“We ffill help.”

The old sorcerer had clearly participated or watched an aircart being packed up before. When Tyen untied the women’s bags two guards came forward to carry them. Soon the capsule was deflated and the cart had been moved to one wall, where it could be tied to metal rings rammed into the rock. Satisfied that it wouldn’t blow away in the wind, Tyen nodded to the sorcerer to indicate his satisfaction and that they were ready to go inside. The old man smiled and led the way into Tyeszal.

T
he trouble with living in a tower was that it meant a lot of walking up and down stairs. Ysser seemed determined to show Tyen everything, which meant Tyen had been doing a lot of ascending and descending over the last day.

“Tyeszal has many ffays in and ffays out,” Ysser said as he led Tyen down yet another stairway. “The…” he gestured to the treads and looked at Tyen.

“… stairs?” Tyen said.

“Stairs! Yes.” The sorcerer was old, but he was as quick to pick up words as any younger student of language. Perhaps even quicker. “Stairs are…” He drew circles in the air with a finger, slowly moving his arm downward.

“The slow way,” Tyen said.

Ysser nodded, then quickened his steps. At the end of the corridor was a railing, beyond which was a hall of some sort, lit by a warm glow that suggested lamplight. As Tyen followed the sorcerer out to the railing, his heart skipped as he saw the true size and dimensions of the hall.

It was vast. A smooth domed roof stretched above them, but the floor was far, far below. Spirecastle was hollow.

The inside walls were lined with balconies and staircases. Great beams criss-crossed the space a few levels below. From these hung enormous pulleys through which ropes as thick as his arms were looped. As he watched, a wooden platform was slowly hauled upward by one of the devices. As it drew level with one of the balconies, two men stepped upon it. He could not tell if it was operated with magic. There was no Stain within Spirecastle, as by law everyone who used magic had to take it from outside the structure.

“This ffay more fast than stairs.”

Tyen tried to count the levels, but they extended so far he could not make out the details far below. “How many people live in Tyeszal?”

The old man held out both hands, then pointed to one finger of the other hand then held out both hands again.

“Ten times ten … a hundred?”

Ysser held out one hand again.

“Ten times ten times five,” Tyen guessed. “Five hundred.”

“Many more below.”

“The city at the base of Tyeszal.”