Tris's Book

by Tamora Pierce

  Crawling out the window, he wondered, If all the scrying-mirrors in Winding Circle broke last night—why is Aymery’s still whole?

  It wasn’t long before everyone went to bed. Niko stayed at Discipline, dozing off in a big chair padded with blankets and cushions. Even Little Bear was sound asleep, on his back with his paws in the air, in front of the cottage altar. He hadn’t so much as stirred when everyone came in from the baths.

  Tris was the last child to go to bed, saying good night to Aymery—the only one still awake—after her nestling got his last meal of the day. She had put bed off, partly because she disliked the thought of that steep climb to the attic. Partly it had been listening to Aymery talk of his university studies; to her relief, he hadn’t mentioned going to see her father after that first conversation. Partly it was the thick fog that now pressed against the cottage, muffling even the noise made by new refugees coming down the road from north gate. Tris hated to be inside during fog. She wanted to be out, walking in the middle of a cloud that had managed to come to her.

  And if they throw more boom-stones despite the fog? she wondered as she hauled herself over the last step and onto the attic floor. A fine thing, to be out in the open and have one of those things drop on you!

  She looked up at the planks that hid the thatch over their heads. How well might the roof hold up, if struck by one of those things? Certainly not as well as the deck of the galley that had been struck by one that morning.

  Shurri Fire-Sword, defend us, she thought, hurrying to her room. Trader and Bookkeeper, Trickster, I don’t care who, keep those things off us!

  “You took long enough,” Briar said from the shadows by her window.

  For a moment she was so terrified that she thought she would faint. Groping one-handed, she found her empty washbasin nearby and threw it at him.

  He ducked. The basin clanged to the floor.

  “Tris?” Lark called tiredly from downstairs.

  “Sorry!” she yelled.

  Briar picked up the basin, examining it. “Now you have a dent.”

  “I ought to dent you,” she hissed.

  “You tried.” White teeth flashed in the gloom. “You missed.”

  Tris gently placed her nestling, who hadn’t so much as peeped when she threw the basin, on her desk. Finding her steel and flint, she lit a candle with hands that shook. “How did you sneak in here?” she demanded, still keeping her voice down.

  He yawned and pointed out the window. Tris understood. She had left this room sometimes by dropping onto pillows that were conveniently placed on the roof of Rosethorn’s workshop, then jumping to the ground. If an ungainly thing like her could do that, someone like Briar could easily climb up. “Aren’t you too tired for this?”

  “What I had to tell you can’t wait.”

  “I say it can. Get out.”

  “Listen, Coppercurls—your cousin’s as wrong as they come. And don’t throw anything else; the grownups need their rest.”

  For a moment her throat worked, but no sound came out. Air gusted around the room, making her wall hanging flap. She wrapped her fingers around the nest to hold it still and finally squeaked, “How dare you! How—”

  His eyes met hers; the words dried to ash in her mouth. This was Briar. They had kept each other alive during the earthquake, and they’d watched clouds get born together. She’d only just started to teach him to read, but she could tell already that he would love it as much as she did. He had kept her from falling off a wall only that morning.

  “Please say you’re joking,” she whispered, and sat heavily on the bed.

  Now that she had calmed down, he sat beside her and told her what he’d found. “Where’s he getting his money?” he asked when he was done. “You don’t buy the things he’s got on a student’s allowance—”

  “How would you know about student allowances?” she asked, trying to braid her unruly hair. The air was gusting again, plucking locks from her hands.

  “I learned awful quick it’s not worth the trouble to pick their pockets,” he said. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. There was more going on in here than just the wind picking up. “They hardly ever have two coppers to rub together—if they have anything, they spend it on books.” When she made no comment, he went on, “From what you say about your family, they won’t pay extra money to anyone, even their future mage, till after he’s shown what he’s good for. So where’s he getting his money? And maybe he says he came to study for weeks, but he didn’t pack like it.”

  “He could have left his other things in storage at the guesthouse.” Tris spoke dully, trying to reject what he was saying. Her heart thudded. Her skin prickled, tingling. At that moment she hated Briar for telling her these things, for sounding so sure.

  “I bet it was him that I saw on the Hub staircase, with the invisibility spell—but why was he there? I bet whatever blew up the stuff in the seeing-place, he put it there.”

  “You never saw a face. It could’ve been somebody else.” Why hadn’t he just gone straight to Niko, or to Rosethorn? The tickling along her skin got hotter. Now she could feel her pulse banging in the veins of her neck.

  “Why sneak into the kitchens?” Briar wanted to know.

  “Don’t tell me Gorse would notice everybody in that madhouse today.”

  “But Gorse does. He—” Briar glanced at the window and froze.

  A thin, three-fingered brand of lightning felt its way along the window ledge like a hand that searched for a place to grip. The scent of charred wood drifted on the air. They could see black streaks where the lightning touched the wood.

  Briar seized Tris’s arm. “Get hold of yourself!” he whispered.

  Tris shook Briar off and went to stand before the window. It wasn’t really lightning, exactly—just a thread of it. She stretched out a hand.

  “Don’t!” Briar hissed, too frightened to move. “Tris—”

  The gold, skeleton arm reached for the girl. Briefly its three fingers touched hers. Tris felt the brush of white-hot light, as if something she had only seen could be felt. Her curly hair began to rise.

  The lightning folded in on itself, rolling out the window.

  Briar put his head on his hands. “If I had a mother, I’d want her right now,” he muttered. “Can’t you do anything small?”

  Tris brushed the fingers the lightning had touched against one cheek. They were warm, nothing more. “Do I want to?” she asked dreamily. The lightning had been so beautiful. It didn’t hurt her feelings. It didn’t tell lies. It was above everything ugly. People didn’t matter to it.

  She wished that people didn’t matter to her. “Aymery isn’t what you think.”

  “Neither are you,” he muttered. “Look—I think we’re safe tonight—Little Bear will let us know if Aymery gets to bumping around, and Skyfire is going to fog this place in. But come morning, we’ve got to tell. I think your wondrous cousin’s working for the pirates.” He padded out of the room.

  Not Aymery, Tris thought, flinging herself back on the bed. Not him.

  She’d been having daydreams of Aymery returning home, making the family a nice profit somehow, and then bringing her in to be his assistant, or apprentice, or something. In those imaginings, her family had seen that Aymery’s judgment was right, that they had done Tris a wrong when they got rid of her. They would want to make amends. They would want her back.

  She wished the lightning would return and touch her again.

  Her eyes burned, but it was impossible to cry. She was too tired. The day had been long already. It was only seven in the evening: If the fog hadn’t set in, there would still be light in the sky. It didn’t matter. Putting her spectacles on the floor and covering her eyes with her arm, Tris slept.

  The Hub clock was chiming midnight when she began to wake. By the time the bell that marked the half hour called through the misty air, she wasn’t a bit sleepy. With a sigh, Tris sat up. Disgusted, she realized that she’d gone to sleep in her dress and s
tockings. Everything was hopelessly rumpled. About to undress, she heard a creak downstairs. If someone else was up, maybe they could talk. She wasn’t about to go back to sleep. For one thing, she was hungry.

  Gathering up her spectacles, she padded out into the attic and over to the opening where the stair pierced the floor. She walked softly, to keep from rousing the other sleepers in the house.

  The person downstairs was being very quiet. He— or she—was also in the dark; there was no sign of lamp or candle.

  Another soft creak, and two more. Whoever made them was coming toward her. One last thump, and then nothing. The walker had gone outside, through the back door next to the stair.

  As quickly as she dared, Tris climbed down the ladder and peered outside. A dark shape vanished into the dark fog, walking through Rosethorn’s garden.

  It’s him, a disgusted magical voice said.

  Tris jumped and whirled. Briar was behind her.

  Then why didn’t Little Bear bark? she demanded.

  He hasn’t so much as rolled over since I went to bed. Briar frowned. We’ll lose Aymery if we don’t move. Or should I just wake Niko?

  Tris walked down the path, peering into the fog. He’s going for a stroll, she insisted.

  He always tippytoes when he’s on a nice, happy stroll, agreed Briar with false cheer as he followed.

  Tris glared at him. She heard someone stumble and curse, not far away. Aymery was as blind out here as she—or was she blind?

  Stretching out her power, she pushed through the dark, wet curtains around them, as if she sent ripples through a pond. There he was, the one moving thing that picked through the clinging mist. Puckering her lips, she blew, thinking of dueling sea breezes. Little puffs of air battled in front of her, shooing the fog to one side of the path or the other for a few feet ahead. Now Tris was able to move forward at a trot, with a bit more ground visible, while the fog let her know Aymery’s direction. Briar was right behind her.

  We’re going to ask him, and he’ll explain, Tris said as they passed through the grape arbor. You’ll see.

  She clung to that idea, trailing her cousin around the baths and around the temple itself. There, in front of the temple porch, her foot caught. She sprawled face-first onto the ground. She had tripped over a curled-up novice who used her armor for a pillow. Briar hit the legs of a snoring red-robed dedicate, who was stretched out like a felled tree near the path. He stumbled and righted himself. Neither sleeper as much as moved.

  Huddled shapes lay all around as far as the pair could see in the mist. Briar knelt and shook the sleeper who had tripped him. The man simply rolled over. They were alive, then, but sleeping as if drugged.

  Now we know why Aymery was in the kitchens, Briar remarked. And why Gorse didn’t see him. Aymery made sure he couldn’t be seen, so he could put sleeping potions in the food. A good thing we kept to the food we already had, right?

  When they looked up, the fog had closed in; Aymery was gone. They could barely see each other.

  She was beginning to think Briar was right. She hated that. Her elbow and knee throbbed from her fall. Aymery had vanished and could even now be letting their enemies inside…. He could be doing anything, while she stood here blind!

  Tris slammed the fog up and forward, as hard as she could. The air shuddered; mist exploded away from her chubby form. Trees bent and groaned, leaves flapping. Sleepers rolled away from her. Briar hung onto a temple pillar and sent his power into the ground, racing to protect the trees from the pain of ripped greenery.

  Aymery, suddenly visible, was thrown into the wall beside the north gate.

  Tris glanced up. The fog was racing into the night-dark sky, colliding with storm clouds that had been forming higher up. Had she started something? I can’t think about that, she decided, and stomped up to her cousin. “Aymery!”

  Briar ducked behind a tree. He’d let Tris do the talking. Let the maggot think they were alone, and he might speak truthfully.

  Aymery lurched away from the wall. “What are you doing here?”

  Despite the heavy snoring all around them, the cousins spoke quietly, as if they might wake someone. “Aymery, please—you aren’t—” Tris swallowed hard. “It looks bad, Aymery. It really does.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said earnestly as she approached. “I’ll protect you. Nothing will happen to you.”

  “What about my friends? What happens to them?” Tris stopped a foot away from her cousin.

  “I’ll do my best, and—you’ll just have to trust me, that’s all. In case you forgot, I tried to get you to leave, remember?”

  “You lied even then, didn’t you? About my father being ill?”

  “I didn’t want you here for this. But you were mule-headed, and I never got another chance to talk you around. Just stick close to me, and I’ll speak for you to Enahar. He’s their chief mage.”

  “Why are you working for them? They’re thieves, and murderers—”

  Aymery sighed. “I owe them money, Tris—more than you could imagine. It was gambling, and—and other things. Enahar gave me a loan, but there was a price. That’s how the world is.” Going to the gate, he wrapped his hands around one of the locking bars and started to lift.

  Briar cursed. This was cutting things much too fine. Daja! Sandry! he cried. We need help and we need it fast!

  Tris ignored the boy’s call. “This is a temple community,” she reminded Aymery. “What kind of loot do you expect to find?”

  He stopped pushing on the heavy bar to stare at her. “Don’t you know anything?” he asked. “There are spell-books here, centuries old, which teach things like making diamonds from coal and rubies from blood. Bespelled weapons, devices—they have a mirror that will let even a non-mage spy on anyone at all. And mages are the highest-priced slaves anywhere—there’s all kinds of ways to keep a mage that won’t hurt his ability to do magic.”

  “I see those ways work on you,” she said flatly.

  Aymery sighed. “Yes, they do. See this?” He tugged at his earring. “It was made with my blood and with Enahar’s. It binds me to him. If he thinks I’m about to betray him, he can use it to kill me. And don’t tell me to get rid of it. I can’t, not so long as I’m alive.” His smile was crooked. “I tried.”

  The winds rose as Tris swallowed hard. “Can’t you turn it on him?”

  Aymery shook his head. “I’ll just bear with it—he’ll free me when my debt’s paid. This raid should do it, with plenty left over.” One locking bar was up. One remained. Someone outside pounded on the gate.

  Tris grabbed Aymery, yanking him back. The growing winds whipped her skirts. “You can’t do it!”

  Unsheathing his knife, Briar hurled it straight at Aymery. A puff of angry air knocked it away.

  Tris whirled, her hair flaring out like a halo. “Stop it!” she yelled, furious.

  Briar searched two snoring guards and found their knives. “He’s not listening!” he shouted. “And that isn’t the Fire Temple guard waiting outside, is it, Aymery?”

  For answer the young mage punched Tris, knocking her back several feet. She hit the ground and lay there, stunned.

  The gate exploded. Aymery went flying, landing not too far from Briar.

  The boy didn’t waste time thinking. The tree that had concealed him had low branches—he jumped for a limb, pulled himself onto it, then climbed until he was ten feet up. Looking at the gate, he saw that the smoke that filled the hole in it began to thin. Armed men and women rushed through the gap, holding kerchiefs over their noses and mouths. Their leader, a bandy-legged man in a breastplate and leather breeches, stopped to survey the scene before him. Briar looked frantically for Tris. She lay without moving a few yards from the pirate leader, her eyes closed.

  Aymery sat up, groaning. His face was dappled with blood, and he had a nosebleed, but Briar thought he didn’t seem badly hurt. The chief pirate walked over to him, sword in hand.

  “Aymery Glassfire?” he demanded, stuffing his ker
chief into a pocket.

  “You didn’t need the black powder,” Aymery muttered. “I was—”

  The pirate ran him through the chest, his rumpled face showing no feeling. “The boss says your deal’s off,” he told Aymery’s body. Bracing himself with a foot on the dead youth’s chest, he dragged his blade free.

  Briar held very, very still. If the leader glanced up, he was dead.

  Instead the little man looked at the people who followed him. “Start killing,” he ordered. “We don’t want ’em at our backs later.”

  Briar gulped and closed his eyes as first one sword bit, then another. He’d seen cold customers in his time, but to murder people in a drugged sleep—

  Hail dropped like an avalanche, pummeling and bruising. Briar screamed with his own pain and that of every green thing under that hard fall. It ripped leaves to shreds, stripped twigs from branches, and left bruises on every inch he couldn’t protect.

  It stopped as suddenly as it began. Below, the pirates huddled on the ground, cloaked in white, like everything else he could see. Rising, they shed hailstones like diamonds. They staggered when they tried to move, dizzy from the pounding.

  “Where did that come from?” demanded the leader. “Get some torches out o’ the temple, now!”

  The sleepers began to stir; the hail must have roused them. Tris lurched to her feet, coughing and retching, half bent over from Aymery’s blow and her fall. The leader advanced on her, sword at the ready.

  Silver flickered in the air, tracing a ropelike line that coiled around the pirate’s neck. He jerked back, fighting for air. The temple warriors lurched to their feet and attacked the still-numb pirates. Briar climbed down as Daja and Sandry ran around the corner of the temple. Sandry flicked her magical rope, throwing the pirate into the air. She didn’t wait to see where he came down. She and Daja came to help Tris instead, reaching her at the same time as Briar. The four clung to each other as fighting raged all around them. Taking deep breaths, they surrounded themselves with a wall of sheer power, made like a net with their interwoven magics.