Thief’s Magic (61 page)

No. You did not know what Kilraker planned. You did not take the magic in the spire. If it is anyone’s fault it is Kilraker’s for ignoring their conditions and taking magic from within the spire.

Tyen thought of the rope Kilraker had been so determined to keep hold of and shook his head.
What was he trying to do?

Remain in control of you, perhaps. Or be propelled along in your wake.

Why wasn’t he brought through with me?

While inanimate objects will travel with you, animate ones must be consciously taken. What little distance he did manage on his own he achieved by using the magic he took from within the spire.

So stupid.
A memory of the dark cloud of dust and the stump of the spire flashed into his mind. His stomach clenched. So many people dead.
At least Ysser and Mig got away, along with the other gliding aircart owners and those who got across the bridges. Why did people live there if it was so vulnerable?

People grow used to a constant but not obvious threat. They put it out of their minds. That’s how they can live near volcanoes or other natural threats without fearing the inevitable disasters.

Someone must have made the castle that way. Perhaps they hadn’t realised their mistake until it was too late. For the king to abandon a home of such obvious symbolic power would have made him appear weak in the eyes of his people, too.

After all the hundreds of years it had stood there, my visit led to its failure. I should go back. They will need help. There must be a way I can help them. I could help them rebuild. And treat the injured.

But he was no doctor. Not even a trainee one. Would there even be injured to treat? Those who had fallen with the spire would surely all be dead. The rest would be angry. They would blame the Empire, and the Leratian visitors who had caused the spire to fall. Ysser would tell them it wasn’t Tyen’s fault, of course. But what if they didn’t believe him? What if they blamed Ysser? They might be more likely to, if Tyen returned and joined the sorcerer. And then there was the problem of arriving where the palace had once been, high above the fallen spire.
Is it possible to control where you arrive in a world?

Yes, but it will take time to teach you. And more magic. Better to learn the method in plentiful worlds than weak ones.

Was this a strong world? He concentrated on sensing magic. It was there, but he could see no movement in it. Reaching out a little way, he drew some to himself then used it to create a flame.

A flash of brightness and heat seared his eyes. He covered his face and jerked away, then diminished the flow of magic to the lightest trickle. Even then, the flame was unbearably bright. He extinguished it, then had to wait for his eyes to recover before he could see Vella’s page again.

I gather that means we’re in a magically rich world.

Yes. Your world was once this strong.

Could it be so again if I take magic back there from here?

Not solely by that method.

How else … ah. The usual way. People generating magic through creativity.
Which they would go back to, once the magic was all gone and the machines didn’t work. His world was not doomed to magical exhaustion for ever.

Yes. I see you believe me now.

Tyen smiled.
Yes, I think I do. I …

A movement caught his eye. Peering down into the forest, he saw dark shapes moving among the tree trunks, coming towards him. He instantly recognised them as human, and a tingle of apprehension ran through him.

What should I do? Go back between worlds?

You could. Or you could see what they want. You are a powerful sorcerer. Even as inexperienced and untrained as you are, you should have no trouble defending yourself against most other people – even sorcerers.

He took in some magic and held it. Something made him pause, to wait before pushing out of this world. He watched the people coming closer, stopping to look up at him apprehensively as they approached, and realised he was feeling curiosity. He remembered what Vella’s reply had been, when he’d asked the best way to improve his skills and knowledge.

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

If there were sorcerers in a world this rich in magic, they must know a lot about magic. Perhaps they could teach him. Perhaps they would know how to restore Vella to human form.

He considered the reasons to return to his world. He could help the Sselts.
Who will probably blame me for what happened.
To restore the magic.
Which the Empire will gobble up as fast as I bring it anyway.
To see his family and friends again.
I cannot visit Father. Neel was never really a friend and Miko betrayed me. Sezee doesn’t want to be around me. Ysser has enough to worry about without me adding to his troubles
.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out again. It formed a cloud of mist in front of him.

I will go back
, he decided.
But not straight away. There is so much I could do outside my world. Perhaps discover things I could bring back to my world, one day.

The strangers were a hundred strides away now. Their clothing was black with pale trim, and as he made out more details he realised it was animal skin, the fur turned to the inside. Yet it was not made up of irregular shapes, but fitted and stitched in coloured thread with intricate patterns. There were both men and women, but all were carrying weapons. Though only spears, bows and short swords, they were dangerous enough. Taking a little magic, Tyen stilled the air around him to form a shield. He tucked Vella into his shirt again.

The men spread out in a line twenty paces away. One spoke, unrecognisable words mixed in with clicks.

Though Tyen had no idea if the gesture meant anything to these people, he bowed.

“Good day,” he said. “Could you tell me where I am?”

The other men looked bemused, but their leader’s face remained impassive. Looking closer, Tyen felt something vibrating at the edge of his senses. He focused on it.

Then, as the leader spoke again, Tyen understood that the man was afraid, yet determined to protect his people from this stranger who had somehow entered their land undetected. He was demanding to know Tyen’s name and business.

Stunned, Tyen stared at the man in amazement.

Somehow he was reading his mind.

T
he port city of Llura was as wet as Fyre was dry. Sa-Mica claimed it was no hotter, but she found it hard to believe. Here she sweated constantly and there was little breeze to dry and cool her. Everything was damp. Mould grew everywhere – on buildings, clothing and even on the people – and pools of stagnant water bred stinging insects that swarmed at night and forced them to sleep under stifling tents of cheap, loosely woven cloth.

Rielle could never have imagined how different the world was on the other side of the mountains. At first she’d been fascinated by how
alive
the jungle was. Plants crowded on all sides and towered above. The colours dazzled her, but the heat and constant noise had soon grown overwhelming. After two quarterdays of walking they had reached a tiny village of people with skin so dark that she and Sa-Mica stood out among them like Greya had in Fyre, but who were much more friendly towards outsiders than Fyrians. They continued their journey huddled in the prow of a riverboat, but without trees to shelter them they burned under a relentless sun. Four quarterdays later – a full halfseason – they arrived in Llura. Rielle had been eager to reach the city and coast, sure that it would be drier and quieter. She was sorely disappointed.

Though Sa-Mica had set about finding a ship straight away, it had taken a quarterday to find one heading in the direction they wanted to go. Now, five quarterdays since she’d met the Angel, she was finally about to take her first sea voyage.

They were waiting for permission to board under the broad awning of a shop selling the local delicacy, known as “sea fruit”. The ball-shaped creatures were steamed in their shells and tasted surprisingly sweet, though with a slightly disconcerting flavour of mud. The locals dusted them with spices that Rielle found too strong, but Sa-Mica enjoyed the heat, though it made him sweat even more.

The sea had been both a revelation and a disappointment. The enormity of it both awed and frightened her. Now that she was about to take to a ship all the stories she’d heard of ships sinking or crashing against rocks were lurking at the edges of her mind, adding to the anxiety of starting a new life where she wouldn’t know anybody or even speak the language. At the same time she longed to be moving – anywhere so long as it was away from this place.

She sighed and wiped her brow. “The sooner we are gone the better. I don’t think I can stand another moment of this heat.”

Sa-Mica grunted his agreement. “You may miss it where we are going. Have you ever seen snow?”

“No.”

“It is charming at first, but the cold is unpleasant. It can be dangerous, too. Heed what the locals tell you.”

Rielle thought of the foreign travellers her brother had once found, dead from thirst a few hundred paces from a well. They hadn’t noticed the insects swooping down to drink the water. Every place had its hidden dangers, he’d told her. It was always wise to listen to the locals, even when their advice sounded strange or silly.

She turned to tell Sa-Mica the story. As her escort his manner had been different – more considerate – but his habit of silence remained. He was used to travelling alone or with only the tainted he took to the Mountain Temple as companions. She had grown bored and coaxed him into conversation by asking him about the journey and her destination. But sometimes she could not rouse him from his thoughts, and the frown he was wearing now was a familiar one.

Thinking back, she recalled a conversation from a day when he was in a more receptive mood.

“Do all artists have magical ability as a counterbalance to their talent?” she had asked him.

“No.”

“Then why do I have this ability?”

“I don’t know. Valhan once told me that this world will not be so depleted of magic for ever. One day, many generations from now, mortals will be free to use it again.”

But not until long after she was dead. And probably her descendants, too, if she ever had any. Her bleed had begun during the riverboat ride, confirming that it had been poor diet and exertion that had interrupted her cycle. Though relieved that she didn’t have the huge complication of a child to worry about when trying to settle in a new land, a part of her ached with sadness for the future she’d lost. For Izare and Narmah, who would never know she had met an Angel, and that her mistakes and bad choices had been forgiven.

One day, if I repay my debt, I will meet them in the Angels’ realm and tell them tales they’ll hardly be able to believe.

“Rielle,” Sa-Mica said, rising to his feet. “Stay here.” He took a step towards the shopfronts, then stopped and, without taking his eyes off whatever had caught his attention, said: “If I don’t return, take my pack and get on board. Don’t worry if the ship leaves. I will get new supplies at the temple here.”

If he doesn’t return…?
Heart racing, she watched him stalk away. Nearing an alley, he slowed and peered around the corner, then disappeared down it. She sat stiffly, unable to relax. He’d been a constant, reassuring presence for so long that the prospect of being alone was frightening. Especially in a foreign place.

“Are you done?” a voice said from behind her shoulder.

She jumped then looked up. The surly woman who had served them stood behind her, eyeing the empty sea fruit shells.

“Yes.”

“Customers are waiting.”

Looking around, Rielle saw that all the other tables were occupied and a small group of men was scowling at her. She looked back at the alley entrance. Sa-Mica was nowhere to be seen.

The woman made an impatient huffing noise.

Sighing, Rielle picked up her pack and Sa-Mica’s and moved away. That put her outside the awning’s shade, however, so she moved down the shopfronts towards the alley. Another awning shaded the shop next to the alley, she noted. Was whatever had drawn Sa-Mica’s attention dangerous? His manner had suggested so. But it had probably led him further away by now. Her skin was burning. She walked over to the shade and set down their packs.

“… was me,” a woman’s voice said, from somewhere not far down the alley.

“
You
sent the message to me at Breca’s?” Sa-Mica replied.

Rielle froze. The priest hadn’t continued down the alley. He was just around the corner.

“Yes. Have you received confirmation?”

Realising she was eavesdropping, Rielle bent to pick up the packs …

“That the corrupter in Fyre is Yerge?”

… and froze again.

“Yes.” The woman said. “You have, haven’t you?”

“I knew it already. One of her victims drew a picture of her. Not all tainted make good use of their second chance at life, Mia. Yerge is not the only one to become a corrupter. And you—”

“Valhan sent her there, Dav. He
asked
her to do it.”

“How can you know that?” Sa-Mica’s tone was disbelieving.

“Because she told me.”

Sa-Mica did not respond. Rielle straightened slowly. If she lifted the packs and walked away, would they hear?

“You don’t believe me,” the woman said.

“No. Why would he do that?”

“You know my suspicions.”

“That he wants to raise an army of sorcerers and take over the world?” Sa-Mica’s voice was full of derision. He’d clearly heard this suggestion before.

“That is one possibility. I’m sure you can think of more.”

“I think he is merely giving the tainted a second chance.”

“Or increasing the strength and numbers of priests, since that’s what the tainted become.”

“Except for women,” Sa-Mica pointed out. “Why do the corrupters target women as well as men?”