by CJ Brightley
They passed the striped canopies and shuttered stalls of the market and turned onto a street lined with taverns. They were mostly quiet now, but in the window they teemed with patrons. Ozor hurried by without stopping, although occasionally he greeted someone by name or responded to a call with a grin and wave. Larine and Dabiel exchanged grim glances at the confirmation. Ozor had done this many times.
Hanion waited outside a large, windowless building. It had once been a warehouse, but now it hosted wrestling matches. Several times each week crowds would congregate to watch and wager, cheer on their favorites, celebrate their wins or curse their losses. Larine saw such a crowd in the window, streaming into the building. Ozor joined their ranks eagerly.
Hanion shook his head. “I followed him until the first match started, but then I lost him. We’re going to have to try and pick him up again when he comes out.”
Larine saw what he meant. Dabiel’s window tracked Ozor through the crowd. He visited the counter where wagers were being taken and recorded, then joined the milling throng around the central raised platform. It was a bit more difficult to keep track of him among the hundreds of men and women packing the space, but Buttons managed it easily until the announcer climbed onto the platform and called for the crowd’s attention. All around the big open room lanterns went out, until everything was dark save for the brightly lit platform. As the first two wrestlers began their bout, Larine strained to make out Ozor’s face. The window zoomed in until his bright eyes and yelling mouth filled the circle, but the crowd kept moving, and he constantly shifted his position to get a better view. The shapes in the window were no more than shadows and glints in the gloom. After a while Ozor drifted toward the back of the audience where it was even darker. Dabiel frowned, and Larine leaned close, but try as she might she couldn’t distinguish her son’s features among the dozens of other moving, shouting bodies.
“That’s the last place I saw him,” Hanion told them. “I’ve scanned the rest of the time while the matches were going on, and the exits when everyone left, but even after the lights come back on I can’t find him again.” He laid a hand on Larine’s arm. “I only had time for a quick overview, though. With three of us searching, it shouldn’t take long to spot him leaving.”
“Are you sure he did? Maybe he’s still in there.” Dabiel glanced at Buttons, and the window shifted to the present. Inside the building a few workers cleaned up spilled food and drink, paper cones and wooden skewers, discarded programs and betting slips, and other refuse left by the crowd. Only a few lanterns burned, but the light was good enough a swift sweep convinced Larine that Ozor wasn’t within.
She put out a hand and Flutter opened a window. After a brief discussion to divide the area and avoid duplicating their efforts, all three wizards searched the time after the last match concluded. The lights came up, people collected their winnings, and the crowd streamed out the dozen exits. Larine scanned hundreds of faces on their way through the doors, until her eyes felt like they were crossing and she was no longer certain she’d recognize Ozor if he stood in front of her. All the time she waited for an exclamation from Dabiel or Hanion, but they were as silent as she, concentrating on their windows.
Hanion was the first to finish. He took his hand off Thunder, shook both hands, and rubbed them together. “He didn’t leave through any of my doors.”
Dabiel scowled at the window over her palm. “I’m sure I didn’t miss him.”
Panic crowded Larine’s throat as she watched the last few stragglers empty from the building, no boy among them. “I don’t understand. Where did he go?”
“He must have left during the matches.” Hanion drew a deep breath, slapped his hand back on Thunder’s neck, and stuck out the other.
Flutter resettled himself on her shoulder and shifted their window. There were far fewer people exiting while the matches were going on, so Larine was able to scan all her exits rapidly. Still nothing.
She raised her eyes to find Dabiel and Hanion looking at her grimly. She glowered back. “You must have missed him. Hanion, I’ll take your exits, you take Dabiel’s, and she’ll take mine.”
Gently, Dabiel said, “We could be here until dawn checking and rechecking. Maybe we should go to the Hall and wait for him to come back.”
“He could be there already,” Hanion added encouragingly. A new window bloomed over his hand. They were too far from the Hall for Thunder to show it, but he displayed a high view of the streets leading that direction. Larine longed to see a hurrying or trudging form, but nothing moved. Hanion grimaced and dropped his hand. “We might have missed him going back.”
“You search for that. Dabiel, make sure he’s not hiding somewhere inside. I’m going to keep rechecking the exits.” Larine set her mouth and bent determinedly to her task.
She’d surely looked at several thousand faces when Hanion’s voice broke into her concentration. “Larine, how much spending money do you give Ozor?”
She blinked and rubbed her eyes. “A little. Why?”
Hanion frowned at the image of Ozor passing his wagers to a woman behind the counter. The window focused on the money. Larine swallowed. A great many more coins changed hands than she’d ever entrusted to Ozor.
“We’ve already concluded he’s done this before. Maybe he’s had a run of good luck.” Dabiel chewed on her lip.
“Very good luck, for a long time, to accumulate that much.” Thunder moved the window to show the wagers marked on the slip, then skimmed through the matches, pausing on each winner. “And it ended tonight. He lost every match. Which means he won’t have come to the counter afterward, since he had no winnings to collect, so we can’t look for him there.”
Larine rubbed the back of her neck. Her head ached. She and Flutter were both so tired, trying to heal the source of the pain would probably be counterproductive. “You think he got the money somewhere else.”
“I’m afraid he did. And I suspect he came here for more than just the wagering. I think he hid in the crowd on purpose, to escape a window in case you or any other wizard tried to follow him.”
“He must have given this a lot of thought.” Dabiel didn’t look happy with her conclusion. “You said he likes to watch court cases? He would have seen what sort of evasive tactics work, and which don’t.”
“In which case, continuing to try and trace him will be futile. Even if we catch him leaving here, he’ll have made additional maneuvers to throw us off his track. We could search for days before we unravelled them all. There’s an easier way.” Hanion took Larine’s hands. “We need to go back to the Hall and catch him when he returns.”
Dabiel nodded, her eyes bleak, and put an arm around Larine’s shoulders. “Then we can trace him back to find out what he was doing.”
“Stealing, you mean. You think that’s where he got the money.” Larine pulled away from them.
“Unfortunately, it seems likely. That, or something else illegal.” Hanion met Larine’s eyes with compassion, but also uncompromising resolve.
“No one blames you,” Dabiel said quickly.
They did, though. Larine could see it in the way Hanion’s jaw jutted, the way Dabiel’s eyes slid away. They were wizards; upholding justice was part of their calling. If Ozor was guilty of the things they suspected, they’d never agree to help her cover them up.
She should have followed him alone. Then she could have kept him safe. Flutter wouldn’t have become suspicious if she’d kept her fears hidden and claimed frustration and weariness as her reasons for giving up the chase. Now she saw no way to prevent her friends from delving into the past until they uncovered whatever Ozor had done. They’d drag him into court to face the consequences. Ozor’s future would be compromised, his life forever altered. Everyone in Elathir would see how badly Larine had failed as a mother.
She fought to hold back tears, but her voice came out choked and ragged. “All right. Let’s go back to the Hall.”
Dabiel embraced her hard and let go. Hanion squ
eezed her hands and released them. The three of them and their familiars trudged through the dark streets until they reached the plaza outside the Mother’s Hall.
Dabiel took charge. “Buttons and I will watch the main doors. Hanion, you take the back. I suspect that’s where he’s most likely to come in, using the privy excuse again. Larine, go to your room and wait for him, in case he slips by both of us. Everyone keep windows open scanning the whole area. If Flutter is up to it, he can scout farther.”
Hanion surveyed the dark Hall. “Should we wake anyone else to help?”
Dabiel frowned for a moment, then shook her head. “They need their sleep. If he comes back at all, we’ll catch him.” She hesitated. “If he appears to be safe and well, I’ll let him pass. Larine should be the one to talk to him.”
Hanion nodded slowly. “I’ll do the same. We can keep windows on each other and give the signal if we spot him. Follow him up, but stay out of sight and wait outside the door of their room. If Larine needs help, she can call us.” He turned to Larine. “Does that sound good?”
Larine wished she could ask her friends to deal with Ozor for her, but she couldn’t. It was her responsibility. She nodded.
Hanion gave a curt nod in reply. Dabiel looked at her worriedly, but nodded also. The three of them split up and headed to their places.
Larine sat in the chair by the window, Flutter in her lap, stroking his head and back with long, slow motions. She tensed when the door swung silently open, but didn’t move.
Ozor slipped through. He was grinning, a tired but satisfied expression, as if he’d accomplished a good day’s work. He glanced at Larine’s bed as he headed for the door to his room. When he saw it was empty, he stiffened and scanned the room.
His eyes met Larine’s. He froze for an instant, then smiled and shrugged. His hushed voice sounded normal. If she didn’t know he was lying, she wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong. “It’s easier to go down to the privy than to empty the chamberpot and clean it. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t.”
Ozor edged toward his room. “That’s good. G’night.”
Larine rose and with two swift strides was between him and his door. “I know you didn’t only go to the privy. We tracked you to the wrestling match before we lost you. We never saw you coming out, and it’s been more than three hours since it ended. Where did you go? And we know you lost your wagers, so where did that come from?” She pointed at the heavy purse on his belt.
Ozor stared at her like a rabbit at a wolf. His eyes shifted to Flutter in the crook of her arm and to her tense fingers, ready to send the Mother’s power to seize him. He gulped. “I… One of my friends was luckier than I was, and he shared with me. We went to his apartment afterward to talk and play cards. I don’t know why you didn’t see me leave the wrestling match, but I guess it was awfully crowded.” He spread his hands with a sheepish expression. “I knew you’d never allow me to go to the matches, even with a friend. That’s why I had to sneak out.” His forehead creased and he scowled, righteous indignation in his tone. “Really, Mother, it’s perfectly safe. I’ve gone more than a dozen times now, and I’ve never had any trouble. You’re not going to make a big fuss about this, are you?”
If Dabiel and Hanion weren’t waiting in the corridor, watching through a window, she could accept his excuse, give him a thorough scolding, and send him to bed with a promise to monitor his every move from now on and a threat of dire retribution if he ever frightened her that way again. But they were, so she couldn’t. “Not if that’s what I see when I trace you back.”
It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she thought he went pale. “You don’t have to do that.” His voice sharpened. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
She felt as tired as if she’d spent her energy to the point of burnout, as heavy as if her flesh had turned to lead. “I wish I could, but I don’t. If I find out you just told me the truth, maybe I’ll start to.” She put out her hand, and Flutter kindled a window over her palm.
“No!” Ozor’s pretense of calm deserted him. He lunged at Larine. “You can’t!”
Flutter’s reflexes were slowed by age. Before he could send the Mother’s power to freeze Ozor in place, the boy’s hands seized him and tore him from Larine’s grasp. For an instant she was too shocked to move, but then she grabbed his arm and fought to reach her familiar. Ozor yanked away and hurled Flutter across the room.
The falcon tumbled through space, struggling to get his wings open. They slowed him, but Larine still heard a sickening thud as he struck the wall. Ozor ran for the door.
It opened before he reached it. Golden light poured through, enveloping him and halting him mid-stride. Hanion and Thunder kept him frozen while Dabiel rushed to Flutter, Buttons charging close behind. Larine stumbled to join them, an awful blankness in her mind.
“He’s alive, just unconscious,” Dabiel said. Larine dropped to her knees and plunged her hands into the warm, tingling light. Her fingers felt Flutter’s heart racing beneath the feathers of his breast, but his thoughts remained absent, and she could do nothing. Thank the Mother Dabiel and Buttons were there to pour power into the falcon’s body and speed him back to health.
She pulled her hands back, but stayed crouched beside Flutter while they worked. Maybe she should go and speak to Ozor, but she couldn’t. Rage roared in her heart. He’d hurt the only other creature in the world she loved as much as she loved him. He’d struck out in violence at someone smaller and weaker than himself. He’d stolen and committed who knew what other crimes. He’d turned his back on everything she’d taught him about obedience and respect. He’d become something she didn’t even recognize. If she confronted him now, she might not be able to restrain her fury. At best she’d scream cruel, hateful words she’d later regret. At worst she’d lash out with the same violence he’d used. Her hands ached to shake and slap and strike him until he begged for mercy. Maybe then he’d understand what pain felt like and stop inflicting it on others.
Larine?
Flutter! Her familiar’s presence in her mind was weak and shaky, but it was there. She resisted the urge to sweep him into her arms and smother him against her chest. I’m so sorry. I never dreamed Ozor would attack you.
I could have stopped him if I wasn’t so slow.
Beneath the falcon’s frustration Larine sensed a fearfulness that had never been there before. She squeezed her eyes shut. It’s not your fault. I should have protected you. She swallowed. I should have taught him better.
Flutter’s eyes opened and he struggled to his feet. I can finish healing myself.
Let Dabiel and Buttons do it. They’re almost done.
He extended his wings, gave a few experimental flaps, and carefully folded them again. At least let’s take a look and make sure they fixed everything right.
If you insist. In other circumstances Larine would have laughed at his fastidious tone. But though she would trust Dabiel and Buttons with her life, she, too, wanted to see and feel for herself that the bird’s injuries were properly healed.
She reached for Flutter. Her hand found its accustomed spot on his back, and more golden light glowed around the falcon’s body, joining that coming from Dabiel’s hand. The sensory impressions that flooded her mind were as familiar as those provided by her eyes and ears and nose and mouth and skin. She flinched at the extent of new scarring in Flutter’s left wing and shoulder. Once they finish with those last few small bones, you should have full function.
It’s going to ache when the weather changes. More than it already does, I mean.
There was barely any humor in Flutter’s tone, just bleak acceptance of the ravages of age. Larine felt his body’s weariness. For months she’d been able to detect a trace of dimming around the edges. One day, not too long in the future, his life would fade until it was nearly transparent, drawing away from this world and toward the Mother’s presence. All the golden light in the world couldn’t reverse that process.
But for now he was alive and as healthy as a twenty-year-old falcon could be. Dabiel sat back, Buttons grunted, and their light winked out. Flutter hopped into Larine’s lap and snuggled against her chest. She stroked his feathers, then lifted him to her shoulder, her heart heavy. She’d run out of excuses to avoid dealing with her son.
The intervening minutes and Flutter’s restoration had dulled the edge of her anger. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself further, then climbed to her feet. Hanion and Thunder had moved into the room and turned Ozor so he faced the corner where Larine had been crouched. Ozor stared at her with the expression she most hated to see on his face—mulishly stubborn defiance, combined with a haughty self-assurance that refused to admit any possibility he might be wrong.
“Let him talk.” Larine probably should have offered to take control of her son, but she was so exhausted she might not have enough energy left, and Hanion seemed willing to continue. He nodded, and the light retreated from Ozor’s head. Her son kept his mouth tight shut, glaring at her.
Dabiel came to stand beside Larine and put a hand on her shoulder. It gave her enough courage to take a deep breath, clear her throat, and address Ozor. “Do you want to tell us what we’re going to see? The truth this time?”
He scowled and remained silent.
“Very well.” Larine extended her hand. As Flutter drew on her energy to push a window open, her legs went rubbery and her head swam. She panted for breath and leaned into Dabiel’s hand for support. In the window, Ozor hurried backward out of their suite, down the stairs, and out of the Hall. Hanion turned the current Ozor and steered him out the door ahead of him and Thunder. Larine followed, Dabiel and Buttons close behind.
The procession retraced Ozor’s steps. For the second time that night, Larine walked through the dark city. This time the sky in the east was a slightly lighter gray than the rest. The window led them to the southern edge of Elathir, where a stream flowed to the river from the reservoir that provided the city’s water. Just below the dam stood a grist mill. Its great water wheel creaked as it turned. The building stood dark and silent.