by Kyra Halland
Finally Carden tipped his hat and smiled. “I won’t impose my presence any longer on folk who find it unpleasant. Good day to you.”
He left, and the tension slowly bled from the room as guns slid back into holsters and conversation resumed. Silas played the last four rounds of the card game without even trying to win, wasting his Moon Dragon on a combo with the Water Harlot and the Fire Death.
After the game, he left the saloon and walked over to the stable to check on Abenar. Ore that was being sold to foreign scientists, he thought, and strange apparitions that weren’t just one person’s imaginings. Could they be connected to the dark, alien power he had sensed? And Carden, who was profiting from the ore, was trying to deflect suspicions about it onto the local blueskins. The few A’ayimat Silas had encountered in the last five years had seemed to prefer to ignore the settlers as long as the settlers stayed out of their territories, as defined in the Compact that had been established thirty years ago. What reason would the local clans have to work dark and frightening magic on the settlers here? Or was it a rogue mage causing the night terrors, to disrupt Carden’s mining operation?
Silas was on to something big. He knew it; he knew that feeling of excitement that danced inside of him and ran up his spine. For his next step, he would take another look at the one person with magical talent he had found in this town, to see if she could shed any light on those strange apparitions – and to bring up the subject of the difficult decision she was going to have to make.
* * *
THE SECOND MORNING after the shootout, Lainie tied Mala to a post outside the mercantile and looked at the list she had written on a scrap of paper. It contained five or six things her father had meant to tell her to get the other day but had forgotten. This wasn’t the first time he had done that; ever since Blake’s death, he had been distracted and forgetful.
She wasn’t always much better herself, not with the night terrors interrupting her sleep at least four or five nights out of every nineday. Her Pa didn’t seem to be troubled with them, which was good because he already had enough things keeping him from sleeping at night. Last night had been bad for both of them, her with the terrors and him with grief over Blake and worries about the ranch, and they had ended up sitting up at two in the morning drinking chickroot brew and discussing ranch business. She was feeling better today; the ride into town on the sunny morning had woken her up all the way and banished the shadows.
As she read the list, trying to remember if there was anything else she should have added to it, a shadow fell over the paper and she felt a presence beside her. She looked up to see Mr. Vendine standing there. A burst of excitement leaped up inside of her, followed by a wave of bashfulness, and she glanced away, trying to push back the smile that wanted to spread across her face.
He tipped his brown, flat-brimmed leather hat to her. “Good morning, Miss Banfrey.”
She was being silly. She had only just met him, and she didn’t know anything about him. She couldn’t be smitten with him already, and if she was, she was a fool. With an effort, she faced him again and managed to respond with dignity, “Good morning, Mr. Vendine.”
“More errands for your father today?”
“Yes, he always thinks of things he meant to tell me to get right after I make a trip to town.”
“I certainly hope you have a better day for it than you did the other day.”
“I hope so, too.” It was an unexpected relief to have someone friendly to talk to who wasn’t all wound up over the situation, and her words came spilling out. “It should be better. Once they’ve done some shooting, they usually calm down for a while before they start getting all riled up again.”
“They? The miners?”
Lainie nodded. “Everyone, but mostly the miners. Sometimes I wish they’d all just shoot each other and be done with it, and leave the rest of us in peace. But it seems there’s always more where they came from.” She caught herself before she babbled on any more. “Anyhow, Mr. Vendine, thank you for escorting me the other day. If you’ll excuse me –”
As she turned to go into the store, he touched her shoulder, stopping her. “If I could speak to you privately for a few moments, Miss Banfrey, I’d appreciate it. Maybe on your way home?”
His voice and his handsome face and dark eyes were very serious. Although he had been so kind to her, and though his manner was certainly polite, she was suddenly afraid of what this stranger might want with her. He had a slightly dangerous air about him, as of a man who keeps his own secrets.
“Please,” he said as she hesitated. “I mean you no harm. It’s important.”
“It’s a distance back to the ranch,” she said, not knowing if she was trying to discourage him or let him know there would be plenty of time for a conversation. “Four leagues and some.”
“My horse could use some exercise. I’ll saddle him up and meet you here when you’re done with your business.”
“My Pa don’t want me riding out with men he don’t know.”
“It won’t take long. I just have a question or two I’d like to ask you.”
Just a question or two. There couldn’t be any harm in that. Should worse come to worst, she had her gun and she knew how to use it. Finally, she nodded. “All right, then.”
“Thank you. I’ll be waiting here for you.” He tipped his hat again, then walked away towards Mundy’s Boarding House. Lainie watched him go, tall, confident, almost arrogant in his stride and bearing, then went into the store.
While Mr. Minton collected the items on her list, Lainie wondered what Mr. Vendine wanted to ask her. Gossip among the ranch hands and in the store was that the stranger had been asking questions about the feud between the stockmen and the miners, claiming it was purely out of curiosity, having ridden into town to find himself in the middle of a gunfight. Her Pa was one of the biggest ranchers in the area; maybe Mr. Vendine wanted to ask her what her Pa thought about the matter. There were also rumors that he was a bounty hunter. Lainie couldn’t remember seeing anyone around town or out on the ranch who might be a fugitive, other than the ne’er-do-well miners who had drifted into town hoping to get rich quick, but it wouldn’t surprise her if any or all of them were wanted criminals.
Or – Did he know that she had protected herself with magic during the gunfight the other day? Was he planning to extort money or favors from her in exchange for keeping her secret? She pushed that thought back into the hidden recesses of her mind, as though even thinking about her power would give her away, and checked her revolver to make sure it was loaded.
True to his word, Mr. Vendine was waiting with his horse, a big gray speckled gelding, when Lainie came out of the store. She packed her purchases into her saddlebags, then they rode off down the street to the crossroads and turned west.
It was even hotter and stickier today than it had been two days ago. Over the Great Sky Mountains to the west, thunderheads were beginning to build up over the highest peaks. Bitterbush Creek, a quarter league outside of town, was running, fed by year-round springs in the hills just east of town, but most of the other creeks were low and sluggish, if not completely dry, and the grass and brush that covered the valley were faded and brittle from the hot, dry weather. When the summer thunderstorms started up, the creeks coming down from the mountain canyons would fill and the valley would green up again. Lainie eyed the clouds, hoping a storm would come today and bring some relief from the heat.
Mr. Vendine remained silent as they rode, except for a few remarks about the weather and questions about how the Bitterbush Valley was for raising cattle. Lainie responded politely, and waited for him to say what he really meant to say.
Two leagues outside of town, Mr. Vendine reined in his horse and dismounted. “Miss Banfrey,” he said.
Lainie hesitated; why didn’t he want to – or why couldn’t he – say what he wanted to say on horseback? Was it that important? Or so secret that he didn’t want to take a chance that anyone else would overhear it, eve
n though there was no one in sight for leagues around? Or did he intend to make a physical advance on her? Better to stay in the saddle, she decided. “What’s this about, Mr. Vendine?”
“There’s something important I need to ask you, Miss Banfrey,” he said, seeming to accept that she wasn’t going to dismount. “Now, it’s something you may think I have no right to ask, and I understand if you’re afraid to answer me, so first I want to show you why you can trust me.”
Lainie nodded, though she kept a close, wary eye on him. He didn’t sound hostile, and if he was trying to make an advance on her, it was the strangest one she’d ever seen, and she’d had a number of men approach her in a number of peculiar ways. Still, better safe than sorry.
Slowly, allowing her to follow his every movement, he raised his hands to his collar, then lifted a fine silver chain out from under his shirt. Suspended from the chain was a broad silver ring set with a smooth blue stone. He unclasped the chain and slid the ring off of it and onto the forefinger of his left hand.
As Lainie watched, the ring began to glow blue. The light was pale in the bright sun, but it definitely wasn’t her imagination. Slowly, the blue glow spread to cover his whole hand like a glove made of light. A shiver went down Lainie’s spine. It couldn’t be real. She looked at his face, outlined with the blue glow from his hand. “You’re a…” The word dried up in her mouth.
“I’m a mage. A wizard. Miss Banfrey, did you use magic during the shootout the other day?”
A wizard. Unnatural, she heard her father’s voice say. No heart, no soul… And he knew about her. In a sudden rush of panic, she kneed Mala into a gallop.
“Miss Banfrey!” Mr. Vendine called out behind her. She didn’t dare look back. She had wished she could learn how to use her wizardly power, but now, faced with a real wizard, all she could think of was her father’s words. Wizards sold their hearts and their souls in exchange for power; they were inhuman, unnatural, cruel. Even though Mr. Vendine wouldn’t turn her over to the townsfolk for hanging, surely there was some terrible punishment that wizards had for people who used power without being allowed to. Or, even worse, he would take her away and force her to give up her soul and become one of them.
“Miss Banfrey!” Over the pounding of Mala’s hooves, she heard him riding closer. Her heart racing in terror, her lungs working fast and shallow, she tried to make Mala outrun him but the big gray was too fast. Mr. Vendine pulled up next to her and reached over to grab her reins. “Miss Banfrey, listen to me!”
“I didn’t mean to,” she sobbed. “I didn’t hurt anything, I just wanted to keep the bullets away. Please don’t punish me, I won’t do it again…”
He brought Mala to a stop, then dismounted and lifted Lainie down from her saddle. Her tears flowed and her heart thundered in her chest as she struggled against his hold on her. His arms stayed around her, gentle but refusing to let go, while he made soft, hushing noises like you’d make to a frightened horse. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Miss Lainie. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to punish you. I just want to talk to you. I need your help.”
Finally, her panic began to ease. He let her go, and she stepped away from him. “You’re a wizard.” She still didn’t want to believe it.
“A mage. Yes.”
“But… My Pa – everyone – says wizards ain’t natural. They ain’t human. They trade their souls for power, and don’t have any heart.”
“Do you believe that?” he asked.
It was the same question she had asked herself so many times. “I don’t know. I know my Pa does. The way he says it, it isn’t just something he believes, it’s like he knows. Like he has reason for knowing. And I –” She took a deep, shuddering breath. He had been kind to her, he didn’t seem to mean her any harm; maybe, just maybe, he could tell her what she needed to know. “I’m scared I’m like that, too.”
“I see. It’s true there are a lot of mages – maybe even most mages – who behave like that. As if they had traded their souls and their hearts for power, although of course it doesn’t really work that way. They’ve just chosen to make power more important than anything else in their lives. But not all mages are like that.”
Lainie looked up at him, studying him. Dark brown eyes, dark skin that could just be deeply tanned or the result of a strong strain of Island blood, handsome face if untouched by a razor for at least a nineday, hair a shade short of black and just long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. His face was weathered, as though he’d been in the Wildings for several years, but not old-looking; she would put him in his early thirties. Though his expression was serious, it held no suggestion of slyness or cruelty. Maybe it really was true what he said, that not all mages had given up everything for power. Maybe it was true that she wasn’t heartless and soulless, not unless she chose to be.
The last of her fear drained away, leaving her weak and shaky. She leaned against Mala to steady herself. “All right, yes, I used power to protect myself from the bullets. I don’t use it very much because I don’t really know how. And because if anyone finds out, they’ll hang me. There, I answered your question. Can I ask you one now?”
“Seems fair,” he said.
“What’s someone like you doing out here?”
“I’m a mage hunter, licensed by the Mage Council to hunt rogue mages who defy the Council’s authority.”
“So you’re one of those wiz – mages that rule everything back there in Granadaia and make life hard for Plain folk,” she said accusingly. She should have known he couldn’t be completely good. “And now you’re hunting down mages who just want their freedom too.”
“That’s not how it is. I’m authorized by the Mage Council, but I don’t care about upholding their authority. I don’t like the way things are in Granadaia, the way Plains are treated. I came out here because those renegade mages are at least as dangerous to Plain folk as they are to the Mage Council. You say they want freedom, and they do – freedom to get as much power and wealth as they can without obeying even the few rules mages are expected to obey. They don’t care at all about the Plain settlers whose freedom and rights they trample. That’s why I’m here – to protect the Plain folk out here from renegade mages, and from any other mages who threaten their freedom.”
Was it possible? Lainie wondered, examining his face again. What he said went contrary to everything she had always heard about wizards, but he seemed entirely serious and sincere. “I heard tell you were passing through town because you were looking for someone. One of those rogue mages?”
“That’s right. I felt some strange bursts of power, odd magical disturbances, from out this way, seven or eight days ago. Some of it’s yours, and some I think is connected to that ore and the night terrors. But I’m pretty sure there’s also another mage around here somewhere, maybe also involved with the mining. It’s the sort of thing a rogue would get mixed up in. But I haven’t had any luck finding him so far.”
She wracked her mind for ideas, and came up empty. “I don’t know who it could be. I don’t even know how to look for another wiz – mage.”
“I didn’t expect you to. Detecting another person’s power takes learning and practice. What I do want to know is if you’ve had any experience of the night terrors.”
The daylight suddenly seemed to dim a little. Lainie nodded. She didn’t like to talk about it, or even think about it. “Yeah.”
“Tell me about them.”
“It’s like…” She swallowed, her heart thudding again at the memory. “It’s like voices whispering words I don’t understand, cold fingers grabbing at my heart and reaching into my mind and… all through my body.”
“Speaking as a mage, what do you make of them?”
Despite the cold, heavy fear that thinking about the night terrors brought upon her, she felt a little glow of pride that he would address her as an equal, asking her opinion. “There’s something wrong about them. I don’t know if they’re anything magic, but they don’t belong here. They m
ostly seem curious, but I feel like their curiosity is to no good end.”
“Carden seems to be mighty interested in making sure people don’t blame them on the mining activity.”
“Yeah, he don’t like it when people say it all started when he hired men to dig up this ore the scientists across the ocean want. I reckon he’s making an awful lot of money, getting that ore for them, and if folks get scared off of digging it up, that’ll put an end to it for him.”
“So these night terrors did only begin after the mining started?”
“Yeah. What do you suppose it is? Is it magic?”
“I’m not sure yet. I thought a rogue mage might be responsible, but what you described doesn’t sound like something Granadaian magic can do. It could be that the mining is stirring up some sort of power within the earth. You’ll have noticed magical power lying within the earth as well as what’s inborn in you?”
Lainie hadn’t ever thought about it before, but now, as she focused her attention on the ground beneath the soles of her boots, she became aware of something just under the surface – a vibration, a warmth, almost as if something was alive down there. It felt as familiar as a birdsong she had heard every day of her life but had never paid any mind to. “Yeah, I feel it. Do you?”
“Not here. A mage is only attuned to the power in the earth of his birthplace. I can only feel it in the part of Granadaia where I was born. It isn’t power that can be used, because it’s part of the earth, but the power in the place where a mage was born does influence the quality of his inborn power.”
“So my power is different from yours?”
“It is. I don’t know how that affects what you’re able to do or how you would do it, but it is different.” He hesitated, as though thinking about something else he wanted to say. Then he grinned, showing good, white teeth, and put his hand on Lainie’s shoulder. “It looks like I’ve still got some looking around to do, then. I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions, Miss Banfrey.”