by Jane Routley
Published 2020 by Solaris
an imprint of Rebellion Publishing Ltd,
Riverside House, Osney Mead,
Oxford, OX2 0ES, UK
www.solarisbooks.com
ISBN: 978-1-78618-274-6
Copyright © 2020 Jane Routley
Cover art by Head Design
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
To my partner, Terry Cooper
CHAPTER ONE
IT’S NOT WORKING, I thought at Katti as I broke up the clods of earth with the hoe. The heavy swallowed anger still burned in my chest, no matter how hard I thought of the family as I smashed.
I’m hardly surprised, she thought back at me. It’s mud, not relatives. Her thoughts held a certain paw-shaking disgust at the word ‘mud.’ Katti considered herself a mighty hunting cat, far above such distasteful mundanities as breaking up clods in the fields with the peasants. She had only come out with me because of the chance of catching tasty little animals in the hedgerows. Her thoughts were full of mystification as to why I would choose to do fieldwork on this of all mornings.
But I had to do something. I was so teeth-grindingly angry at my family that I wasn’t sure I could face them without creating some terrible scene that would make us all homeless. It’s a bad idea to punch someone in the face when they have complete financial power over you and the people you love, no matter how much they deserve it.
If I could only calm down a bit, I thought at Katti.
My dear young human, I can’t imagine fieldwork… Her focus suddenly switched away from me. I looked up. Her elegant grey head was turned towards the estates’ entrance.
“They’re here!” shouted one of the peasants.
Oh, no. Already?
It was only midday, far too early for the Blessing party to arrive. Yet a gleam of light had appeared in between the pair of tall trees that marked the entrance, showing that someone was travelling under magical power.
Katti leapt up and streaked away towards the carriage. Praying it wasn’t the family but wondering who else it could be, I ran over to my horse, scrambled onto it and took off after her, leaping over the ditch at the edge of the field and up onto the track. The peasants working round me had dropped their hoes and were also running towards the road. A solitary phaeton without horses, a light carriage that carried only a couple of people, came sweeping up the drive way between the bare early spring trees. Ladypraised. Not the family. Who then?
It’s him. It’s him! came Katti’s gleeful thoughts back to me.
But who?
The blue body and black hood of the light two-seater vehicle were unfamiliar to me, but I recognized the mage sitting in the driver’s seat, and my heart leapt with joy.
Waving and shouting, I urged the horse forward faster. On the roadway before us the phaeton pulled to a stop and settled on the ground. The crystal embedded in the mage’s forehead went dark.
“Shine!” Bright’s round face split into a grin. “How’s my favourite ghostie-girl?”
Normally I hated being called ‘ghostie-girl,’ but to hear Bright’s teasing voice again was so wonderful it didn’t matter today. He leapt out of the phaeton and held out his arms. His crystal lit up again and I felt his power snatching me off the back of my horse. Reaching out, I threw myself through the air to be caught in his arms. He squeezed me and swung me around.
“How are you?” I cried, hugging him tight and kissing both his cheeks. “What are you doing here? How long are you staying?” The true situation stabbed at me. Bright was the reason for all my anger at the family, and he was in danger. “Oh, no! You’ve got to go. It’s Blessing time. Impi and the others will be arriving in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks a lot,” laughed Bright. “I just arrive and you’re telling me to go away.”
He was damp with sweat, as any mage would be after a long drive, but it was the dear familiar stink of my beloved cousin, so it didn’t much matter. He looked pale and tired, but his eyes were much livelier than when I had last seen him, and all the bruises were gone. The dusty tan of his military robe suited him and his arms felt muscular as he replaced me on the ground.
“Bright, it’s Blessing time...”
“I know, I know. I’m going to come and go. I’ve got something to give you. Wait a minute and I’ll show you.”
He turned away to shake hands and exchange greetings with the peasants who had run over the fields behind me. Since he’d grown up here at the Willow-in-the-Mist Estate, my noble cousin knew everyone by name and was still well liked despite the scandal. He had a lot of questions to ask and answer.
While he was distracted, I turned to the other seat where Stefan Graceson, Bright’s valet, was sitting.
“You both look great,” I said. I’d known Graceson all my life, but after not seeing him for so long I was struck again by how gorgeous he was, with his high cheekbones, huge dark eyes and lovely curly hair. As children, the Graceson brothers and Bright and I had played together and, later, Graceson and Bright were inseparable. I’d always known that Bright loved Stefan more than anyone else. I’d accepted it as part of my cousin. If only the family had, curse them. What was it to them anyway? Bright was honest, loyal and kind—a wonderful person and surely a credit to his family.
“Military life agrees with us,” murmured Graceson. “He’s so much happier now he’s got something to do. He’s been saying the disinheritance may have been the best thing that ever happened to him.”
“Shine, get someone to take your horse back to the house,” interrupted Bright. “I need to discuss something private with you.”
“I’m all ears,” I said, giving the order to one of the peasants.
Katti was sniffing at the trunk of the phaeton. Something smells very strange in here, her thoughts told me.
Graceson shooed Katti away as he climbed onto the back and sat on top of the trunk. I took his place beside Bright, calling Katti to sit between us. She almost reached our shoulders.
“Lady!” exclaimed Bright, reaching across to rub her cheeks. “Look at you, you gorgeous cat. You’re enormous.”
She had the size of her wildcat sire and very likely her dark tufted ears came from him too. But she had the long tail of her mother and the soft smoke grey fur of a domesticated cat. Katti allowed Bright to rub her neck and cheeks. She liked him; she said he gave good neck rubs. But oddly enough she almost never spoke in his head, so he turned to me for information.
“Is she full-sized now?”
“She’s had her first litter of kittens, so I guess she must be.”
“That’s a relief. Wouldn’t want her to get much bigger. She must terrify visitors.”
Quite true, thought Katti smugly.
Bright settled himself into place and crossed his arms, and his face took on the glaring, jaw-clenched look of a mage at work. The crystal embedded in his forehead that marked him as a mage lit up as he called his power out. The phaeton rose into the air and turned towards the forest that covered the sides of our valley. We flew high enough over the fields not to disturb the neat furrows in the earth below. Once the phaeton was flying straight, Bright was able to drive and talk at the same time.
“So when are they due?”
“The family? Not till nightfall.”
“No need to rush off, then. Are they still as appalling as ever?”
“Worse,” I said. “Apparently our Holy Matriarch was so smoked at Plainsofgold, she almost fell over during her first Blessing. Lumina’s as horrible as ever and I hear Klea has run off to join the theatre. And Impi still rules the roost.”
“Cursed be the family where the consort holds sway,” quoted Bright. “I’m glad I’m out of the whole ghastly thing.”
“You really prefer military service? Isn’t it limiting?”
“It’s less limiting than life at Elayison. Hanging about smoking dreamsmoke and ranting on about nothing, and everyone spying on you. If you do your job on the frontier, they don’t ask any questions.”
“Promise?” I asked softly. “You’re not just...?”
“I’m not just saying it. I’m loving it there. Best thing I ever did.” He squeezed my wrist. “You can stop worrying about me. Honestly. Impi and the rest have done me a favour.”
He smiled at me and it was a smile I could believe. He seemed like his old cheerful self. Some of the weight seemed to leave my chest and I found my eyes tearing up. I blinked.
“We going to the tree house?” I asked, to cover the moment.
“Such a perspicacious little coz!” He laughed.
Little coz indeed. I smacked his arm. I was two years his senior. Twenty-three and still on the farm. And likely to remain so now.
The phaeton slid over the river that fenced our lands off from the forest, and in under the canopy of the trees. The lush undergrowth swayed as we manoeuvred between the tree trunks. So close to the edge of the forest there were no puffballs or mine shafts to look out for. I felt Katti’s mind fill with the possibility of small tasty animals and squeezed the back of her neck to remind her to stay put.
I love travelling by magic phaeton. I’d have had to take the much longer route via the bridge and the path if I’d been alone. Now in a few moments we reached the single spreading fig tree where, as children, Bright and I had had a secret hideaway. You could curl up on the deep beds of leaves that collected between its huge roots, and make little houses. The fig tree’s spirit felt sleepy and sort of motherly. Bright laughed at me the time I told him that, but I was certain it was true.
It looked like children still played here. I myself rarely visited now, because it always made me melancholy. When we were little, I’d always assumed that I’d grow up to be a mage, inheriting my mother’s estate and title, and that Bright would act as uncle when I set up my nursery. Now here I was ten years later, no magic powers, no nobility, no inheritance and no children. And Bright kicked out of the family for being a man-lover. Dust, dust, all dreams are but dust.
Bright turned the phaeton as we landed, so that the fig’s lower branches hid the back of it. He relaxed and the crystal blinked out.
“Graceson, release the luggage!” he cried, mock dramatically, as Katti and I jumped out.
Katti gave a chirrup. Something is alive here. She darted around the back of the phaeton after Graceson.
“Oh, drat, call that cat to heel,” cried Bright. “Graceson, look out!”
“Katti!” I darted in under the branches and saw Katti jumping up on Graceson’s back as a hooded figure rose out of the large trunk and gave a yelp of alarm.
“Down, Katti, down,” I cried, seizing her collar. “Bright, what’s this? Did you arrest a rogue on the way here?”
“Better than that,” said Bright. He looked round to check that no one could see us and waved his hand so that the figure’s hood fell back. Despite the canopy of branches, it was quite light in here, so I saw the figure’s horrible pale face and hair clearly. Its weird blue-coloured eyes were wide with surprise.
I’m ashamed to admit I squeaked.
Very well, it was an actual scream, but only a small one.
Katti hissed and pulled back. I squeezed her neck consolingly, trying to send calm to her - which wasn’t easy because I didn’t feel very calm myself. I’d never been this close to one of these pale foreigners, unless you count the one who sired me, who’d gone by the time I was a year old.
“Lady! Is that a ghost? Is it real?”
“Of course. Get down, outlander. I won’t let the cat hurt you.”
The outlander jumped out of the trunk and landed with a reassuringly corporeal thud. His joints even creaked, as he stretched his back and legs. These pale outlanders from over the Bone Mountains in the west had come to the Empire of Light about thirty years ago, full of clever inventions and pretty trinkets to trade for crystal. Every outlander in the country was registered and limited to a strict trading path; only a few of them came at a time and the Imperial Government kept stern watch on them—as well they might. Most of the peasants feared these pale folk as escapees from the land of the dead, and at first there had been panic and attacks.
“You can touch him, if you like,” said Bright. “He’s human.”
“I...” What if he put an enchantment on me, the way an outlander had enchanted my mother? You’ve spent too much time among superstitious mundanes, my girl, I told myself. I put my hand on his cheek and was intensely relieved that it felt like any proper-coloured cheek. He even needed a shave.
“No wonder people call them ghosts. What a horrible colour! Like a fungus. “
The outlander glared at me.
“I can speak your language,” he said with a perfect accent.
I jumped back with another embarrassing squeak.
Graceson poked the ghost with a finger. “You have no manners,” he hissed. “The lady is of noble lineage. Address her as ‘marm.’”
“I beg pardon,” said the ghost, and swept a surprisingly good, if rather stiff, bow. “I am at your service, marm.”
“Let’s have a seat, coz,” said Bright, stripping off his riding gloves. “Come on, Graceson, I’m starving and thirsty.”
The valet nodded and turned to rummage in the luggage compartment.
Bright spread his cloak between two of the largest roots at the base of the tree and threw himself down on it. I settled down beside him and wriggled my back into my old accustomed place. The outlander didn’t sit but stood over us, rubbing his back and groaning softly.
“Sit, friend Shadow,” said Bright.
From a noble, such words are an order, not a request, but the ghost said quite simply, “No, thank you. I have been cramped up in that trunk and my back is killing me.” He stretched out and bent back.
“Don’t worry,” murmured Bright to me. “He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s very blunt.”
“But where’d you get him from? And what’s he doing in your luggage trunk? And out here? Are outlanders allowed outside the capital now?”
“He’s unregistered,” said Bright. “Apparently he and his friends came from their own land without letting our government know about it. He says they were intending to come and go through the Endless Desert without really entering our borders. They’ve been investigating crystal smuggling. They were asking questions at a mine in the borderlands and got caught up in some kind of attack. The other ghosts were killed, but one of the miners rescued this one and dumped him at our outpost. Ran away before I could question him—the miner, I mean. I went up to see the mine site before we came here. Shadow’s telling some version of the truth. The place was a mess, and the attackers had at least one mage with them. Shadow said he thought they took most of the miners prisoner. Thanks, Graceson.”
Graceson offered us a little travelling tray holding stuffed marrow-blossoms and metal beakers of red wine. Since we were alone among friends, once we had been served, he sat down and took a beaker for himself. I notice he didn’t serve the outlander, though he had poured a beaker of wine for him. Clearly Graceson didn’t regard the ghost as noble. That presumably meant the ghost had no magical powers: he certainly had no crystal in his forehead.
“Anyway,” Bright continued, “I kindly offered to take him back to
Elayison in secret so that his embassy could get him home without a diplomatic incident.”
The ghost snorted. “For a consideration.”
“Yes, that’s the best thing. He’s going to find your mother for us.”
“What? But she’s dead.” I didn’t know that for sure, but she’d gone off with my outlander sire to visit his homeland when I was barely twelve months old, telling Auntie Eff she’d be home in a couple of months. Apparently she’d been fascinated by the ghosts. Eff had always said she’d adored me and would never have stayed away so long if she’d been able to come back. I’d long assumed that she’d died on the journey through the Bone Mountains, which was supposed to be very long and extremely hazardous. Everyone in the family called her ‘poor dear lost Aurora’—except Granny, who refused to believe she wasn’t coming back.
“If Shadow can find proof of what happened to her in Ghostland, Granny will have to sort out her estate and you’ll finally get your allowance. And you’ll be able to get out of here. See, I told you I’d make it up to you for being disinherited.”
This whole idea was so surprising I didn’t know what to say. I struggled to close my mouth and say something useful.
“You can’t take him to Elayison,” was the best I could come up with. “You’re in exile.”
“You did not say—” began the ghost.
“Shut up, both of you!” Bright glared at me and then at the ghost. “I can’t take you. But Shine here can. She’s not in exile.”
Trust a mage not to consider the obstacles.
“Bright, I can’t go anywhere. It’s Blessing time.”
“So? You stash this fellow somewhere until the festival is over. And then you set out. Simple.”
The house was going to be packed to the rafters with the family and their ravenous servants, sticking their noses into everything, snooping all over the estate and hunting all through the forest. And the peasants would be too frightened of the ghost for me to stash him at one of their houses. Yet Bright said it was simple. Cursed mages! Life just isn’t real for them.