Thief’s Magic (52 page)

“City?”

“Place where many people live.”

“City,” Ysser repeated, memorising the word.

The two men on the rising platform stepped off at the uppermost level. They stared at Tyen, but not in an unfriendly way, as they approached. Though both were shorter than he was, as most Sselts appeared to be, their face shapes were very different. He’d seen people similar in appearance to both, and others who looked different again, and surmised that there were regional differences in the peoples of the far south.

As had happened many times with others, the men held out a palm to him and Ysser as they passed. Just one and with no effort to touch palms, so perhaps this was a less formal greeting. The old man returned the gesture, so Tyen followed suit. One carried several bolts of fine-looking cloth under his arm.

“What do the people living in Tyeszal do?” Tyen asked.

“Few help Cryll lead. Many make. Many, many makers.”

“Make? Those men … they are tailors. They make clothes.” Tyen patted the soft trousers and long, lavishly embroidered shirt, given to him by the Sselts that morning.

Ysser nodded. “Many making. Only good making.”

“So the castle is full of craftsmen and artisans, but only the best,” Tyen concluded.

“And they make magic. Make Tyeszal most magic place in Sseltee,” the old man said with obvious pride.

Tyen felt a chill run down his spine.
There it is again. This belief that making something generates magic.
The idea did not repel him as it once had. Most likely Gowel was right, and magic had some relationship with people rather than with any specific activity.

“Is there less magic in the city below?” Tyen asked

Ysser shrugged. “Less magic for so many people. Many ten hundred people.”

A little less magic but a far greater population, Tyen translated. He felt a little thrill as he realised this was exactly the sort of arrangement that would prove or disprove the theory. If no relationship existed between magic and creativity then isolating a group of mostly craftsmen and artisans from the rest of the population would result in their surroundings being poorer in magic than the far larger city below. Instead, Tyeszal was richer in magic.
Could Vella be right and the Academy wrong…?

“I show you.”

The old sorcerer led Tyen back to the stairs. “All above stairs is Cryll place,” he said.

“The palace.”

“Palace,” Ysser repeated, committing the word to memory.

I’m staying in a palace
, Tyen mused.
Miko would never believe it. Neel would be jealous.
And his father would be amazed and proud. At the thought of his father, Tyen felt a pang of both sadness and guilt.
I hope he got my letter. One day I will go back and see him
, he told himself.
When the Academy has given up looking for me. But, oh, how I wish I could show him this place.

The room he had been given was richly decorated. From Sezee and Veroo’s description the previous night at dinner, theirs was equally sumptuous. They had eaten with the king, his family and several people who looked and sounded important. All were very curious, but their inability to speak Leratian or for the visitors to speak Sselt kept Ysser very busy translating, and at the end of the night the old man looked strained and tired. By the next morning, when Ysser had come to Tyen’s room, he was bright and energetic again and determined to give his guest a tour of the castle. Sezee and Veroo had not been with him. No doubt they had turned down the offer, had a better one, or were being shown around by others and he would hear all about it over dinner that evening.

Ysser’s pace slowed on the stairs, but he lengthened his stride when they reached the level above the one containing Tyen’s room. He steered Tyen down a corridor to a large door, then pushed through. Following, Tyen entered a large room lined with cabinets filled with objects both familiar and strange. A collection of skeletons and bones of humans and animals filled one, and stuffed animals loaded the shelves of another. Instruments and vessels of various shapes reminded Tyen of the Academy’s experimentation rooms. Rolls of paper and books took up at least half of the cabinets, or were stacked on the floor.

In the centre was a table on which a plan of some sort had been placed, the corners weighed down by an ink pot, a rock, a goblet and a shoe. Tyen would have paused to examine it as they passed if a much bigger, stranger object hadn’t caught his attention. Like the aircart, it had a chassis of wood mostly covered in fabric and a kind of rudder at one end, but instead of a capsule another fabric-covered framework had been fixed above, at right angles. Flatter than it was tall, the front edge curved and the rear tapered to a point. If Tyen hadn’t been at the top of a castle carved out of a spire of rock and far from the sea, he would have thought it some strange sort of sailing craft, and assumed the flat edge swivelled up to catch the wind. Wheels were fixed to the chassis, and the whole contraption rested on a wooden platform, sloping towards a pair of large doors.

“Mig,” Ysser called, then spoke a few rapid words in Sselt.

A head rose from behind the vehicle’s chassis. Tyen caught a glimpse of a boy’s wide eyes, then the head disappeared again. After a moment the owner, who looked old enough soon to be venturing into adulthood, shyly crept out into view.

“I introduss you to Mig,” Ysser said. He turned to the boy and Tyen heard his false name “Aren Coble”. The sorcerer turned back. “Mig is…” He paused, then pointed to his forehead. “Good here.”

“Smart,” Tyen offered. “Clever. Your apprentice?”

Ysser frowned.

“You teach him magic?”

The old man straightened and shook his head. “No. He has no magic. So he is … smart.” Ysser reached out to touch the vehicle. “He made this.”

“What does it do?”

“It fly. No magic. It…” He said a word in Sselt and moved his hand like a bird gliding. “He make many for people in Tyeszal so they go ffay out faster.” He smiled and moved to the doors. Mig hurried over to help. Unbolting them, they swung them inward, letting in bright sunlight. They latched them to the walls to prevent them swinging in the wind that now rushed into the room, making the rolls of paper rustle in their cabinets.

Ysser beckoned, then walked outside. Following, Tyen pulled up sharply as he found himself on a balcony with no railing between him and a drop to the land far, far below. Though he was not usually bothered by heights, the lack of protection and the wind buffeting him roused an instinctive fear.

As if intended to disorientate him more, a flyer swooped past, the girl’s arms outstretched. The Soot that marked her path began to shrink. He’d never seen it fade so quickly. It would be gone by the end of the day, he estimated.

He moved back into the room and examined the flying vehicle. It would take a precise aim to bring it back inside the doors. And with no capsule to lift it … “How do you get it back up again?” Tyen asked, mimicking the hand movement, but bringing his hand up.

“Un-make and…” The sorcerer mimicked carrying something under his arm.

Tyen nodded to show his understanding. It was a one-way flight, and not one the driver would want to take on a whim when it took so much effort to return home. But it could be brought up on the platforms, he supposed, if it could be dismantled into small enough pieces.

Moving closer, he saw that the driver actually sat within the chassis on a simple seat, a set of levers in front of him. He wondered how much skill it would take to keep it airborne and control the direction it flew. There would be no hovering. It seemed a far more limited vehicle than an aircart in that respect.

The boy watched silently, shyness and pride radiating from him as Tyen examined his invention. When Tyen tried to ask him a question, the lad looked uncomfortable. Considering how he might win Mig over, Tyen remembered Beetle. He’d slung his satchel over his shoulder as he’d left his room, as much from habit as not wanting to leave his most precious possessions behind. Opening the flap, he looked up at Mig and smiled.

“Beetle,” he said. “Fly.”

At once the insectoid stirred into life, wings buzzing as it launched into the air. The boy’s eyes went wide and jumped back, then he gaped in fascination as Beetle whirred around Tyen’s head.

“Rest,” Tyen said, and the insectoid landed on his shoulder. He took hold of it and held it out. Ysser and the boy came over to peer down at it, both wearing the same expression of curiosity and excitement.

Tyen had been explaining how it worked for only a short time when a piping sound drew their attention to the balcony. A girl around Mig’s age stood between the open doors, with what Tyen guessed was a whistle between her teeth. Her fitted clothing was a flier uniform and he guessed its green colour indicated she was a messenger of the king. She stared at Tyen with a bold curiosity that he suspected he would have to grow used to as a stranger in this land, then spat the whistle out, held a palm outward towards Ysser and said something. Tyen recognised the word “Cryll”.

The old man turned to Tyen and smiled apologetically. “I must go. You go to your room no guide?”

Tyen nodded. “I will find my way there.”

The boy looked disappointed as Tyen placed Beetle back in the satchel.

“Beetle, sleep,” Tyen said. At once the insectoid curled up its legs and went still.

He followed Ysser out, then made his way back to his room alone. There he found a generous meal laid out on a table. His stomach growled when he saw it, though his morning meal had been no small affair either. The tour must have taken far longer than he had realised.

After he had sated his hunger he rose and walked over to one of the small windows. He estimated it was about mid-afternoon. For a while he gazed out at the world so far below, then he returned to the chair.

What should he do now? Though nobody had told him he must stay in his room, knowing he was living in the palace made him reluctant to roam around without a guide or reassurance that his exploration would be welcome. He could seek out Veroo and Sezee, but they were probably in the middle of their own tour of the castle. He would see them when they were done.

So he drew Vella out of the satchel and filled her in on what he had seen and learned.

The king said we could stay a few days. What should we do then?
Tyen asked.

To remain longer would be to outstay your welcome, and you should keep moving in case the Academy does cross the mountains in pursuit
, she replied.

If any sorcerers did, it would take them a few days to prepare for such a journey. A Dart was too large and heavy for the crossing, so they’d need to find a smaller aircart or two and provisions.

The king or Ysser may be happy to suggest where you would be well received in Sseltee
, Vella said.
And a solution to the problem of money. You have the aircart so transport is no issue, but you still need food and, where necessary, to pay for a bed each night.

Yes, I will have to ask if they will exchange their currency for mine – what’s left of it.
He’d given the foresters who’d helped him repair the aircart all of the heavy coinage and most of the paper money left from Kilraker’s bags.

Someone may buy the money as an item of curiosity.

I wonder how Sezee and Veroo plan to overcome this problem. If Veroo is accepted into the school of magic, how will they pay their way?

From what I picked up in her mind, Sezee has some jewellery to sell and is confident she will find a way to earn money as a singer.

Singer? She sings?

Yes.

Tyen frowned. In all this time he’d never heard Sezee sing. He was filled with a sudden curiosity to hear her. Perhaps he’d ask her about it later. He turned his attention back to the question of what to do next.

I will ask Ysser for maps and suggestions for places to explore
, he said.
Perhaps … perhaps I should show you to Ysser before leaving. You would learn a lot from him. But should I trust him to give you back? I’ve only just met him. He seems nice enough – but Kilraker seemed nice enough until he set me up. What if Ysser tries to steal you, or tells the king about you and the king decides he should own you?

You must weigh the advantages against the risks.

Tyen shook his head. It would be foolish to trust the old man so quickly. He would have to make his own way. He could go with Veroo to the school of magic. Gowel didn’t think the sorcerers were as advanced as those of the Academy, but if he was to find a way to restore Vella he had better seize every opportunity for a magical education.

Would that be the best way to improve my skills and knowledge?
he wondered.

The best way would be for you to leave this world and its limitations, and seek out the best teachers of the worlds.

He chuckled.
That’s not very helpful advice.

No? I can teach you how to travel between worlds. All you need to find is enough magic.

But there isn’t enough in this world, is there?

There might be. There is more magic here at Tyeszal than anywhere else I have been in this world and time.

Tyen’s skin prickled at the thought. Travel the worlds? Was it really possible?

However, the locals may object to you depleting so much of what they have generated. You may find other places in the south where magic is being created but not used.

So you are saying that I shouldn’t go to the school, but should seek out one of these places so I can leave this world?

That would be the best way to improve your skills and
—

A knock at the door snatched his attention away. He took a deep breath, slipped Vella inside his shirt and walked over to answer it.

No sooner had the latch clicked open than the door was pushed inward. Sezee bustled in, taking in his surrounds with a critical eye. She had changed her clothes to the local garb since arriving but was wearing her warm jacket, scarf and gloves on top.