Thief's Magic

by Trudi Canavan

It is a conquered land. Rebellion is always possible.

  Surely that’s more likely if it is denied the benefits of belonging to the Empire. And even if everyone in the West Isles with the ability learned magic, there wouldn’t be enough sorcerers to overthrow the Leratian Empire.

  If all lands colonised by Leratia were to do so, would there be enough?

  Tyen frowned. Perhaps. But … Veroo is no threat on her own. Just one woman …

  Who can teach others. Her gender is no obstacle in her country, either.

  Yes, I see your point. It seems like a waste not to teach her, though, and anyone with magical ability.

  It is. It may be sensible for the Empire’s defence, but it is limiting for the Academy. Restricting knowledge slows the pace of development. The fewer sorcerers free to learn and teach, the less time is spent experimenting and making new discoveries.

  And yet this last century has been a time of great advancement.

  For the Empire. Every time it conquered new lands it absorbed new knowledge. Even small discoveries, like a more efficient way to record information, can lead to great change.

  Like printing presses. Their earliest form was a system used by the equatorial tribes. Their inventor always said he couldn’t accept full credit for it. Tyen smiled. I guess you would have had the same effect, if he’d read of the system from your pages instead of the tribes’.

  Yes. That was Roporien’s intention. Most of what he knew he’d learned in the first few hundred years of his life. The older he got, the longer it took to discover new information until it was more profitable to him to wait for geniuses to be born, grow up and make new discoveries than for him to travel in search of them.

  Why did he continue looking for new knowledge?

  He took a certain pride in knowing more than anyone else, perhaps anyone who had ever existed. That way nobody could defeat him simply by being better informed.

  And yet that didn’t protect him. He still died. So … how did he die?

  I don’t know. Nobody I have encountered knew. There was a rumour that it was a more powerful sorcerer. A man they called the Successor.

  Successor? Roporien’s son?

  No. His replacement. There is a belief held in many worlds that a sorcerer as powerful as Roporien is born once every thousand cycles – a cycle being a unit of time a little longer than this world’s year. When this Successor comes to full strength he will kill the old one. It is known as Millennium’s Rule.

  Do you believe it to be true?

  I believe nothing. I only store information, and I do not contain enough to prove if the Rule is correct.

  Was there a powerful sorcerer before Roporien, who he killed when he was young?

  Yes. A sorcerer tried to kill him who was stronger than any he’d encountered before. He defeated the man, despite being far less experienced in magical duelling.

  Then Roporien’s Successor is still out there?

  If my calculations are correct, it is a little over a thousand cycles since Roporien died. His Successor will have already been defeated by his own Successor, if the Rule holds truth.

  Do Successors ever fail?

  I have no record of one failing. It is possible that one may be killed before acquiring the knowledge of agelessness, or from inexperience or simple bad luck.

  Tyen looked up from the pages, barely registering the sea stretching below and around the aircart as a sudden longing filled him to see these other worlds and know if Roporien’s Successor still lived. Though if the man was that powerful, it would be safer to find out without actually meeting him. Roporien had been a cruel man. Who knew what his replacement was like? Or the man who might already have defeated him? Either way, a Successor had to have killed at least one man.

  “Tyen.”

  He looked up to find Sezee making her way along the aircart towards him. Unlike Veroo, she had not grown used to riding on the narrow chassis. Standing up in view of the sea far below made her head spin, so she crawled up and down the chassis on all fours. Before they’d set out across the ocean she had changed into a bodice and jacket that buttoned up to her throat for warmth. While that prevented the view of her crawling towards him from being distractingly indecent, she had also donned a pair of pantaloons, which made watching her crawling away from him an entirely different matter.

  She had also insisted they attach some strong netting between the rope railing and the chassis on both sides for most of its length to reduce the chances she’d slip off the side of the aircart. He’d chafed at the delay, but came to appreciate the netting’s value as a more comfortable safety measure to the usual straps that held a passenger in place when sleeping.

  Closing Vella, he slipped her into his coat pocket.

  “It’s my turn to drive?” he asked.

  “Yes, but that’s not what you need to see.” She stopped, settled onto one hip and smiled. “Have you noticed the lites?”

  He looked around. Sure enough, several species of the winged creatures were visible, gliding above or skimming the water below. Some were migratory, or spent most of their life over the ocean. Others were coastal, visiting the sea only to feed, which meant …

  “Land,” he said, shading his eyes and peering towards the west. “We must be close.”

  “Yes.” She grinned. “We’re nearly there.”

  He got to his feet, holding the capsule support strut for balance. “Oh, we have a long way to go still. We have an entire mountain range to cross.”

  Carefully stepping past her, he made his way to the front of the aircart, where Veroo sat with her skirts hitched up and stockinged legs dangling over the edge of the seat.

  “Tyen,” she said. “Warfare was part of your aircart training, wasn’t it? Do you have any aerial battle experience?”

  He laughed. “Yes to the first, no to the second. Why do you ask?”

  She let go of the wheel with one hand and pointed towards the north. “Is that what I think it is?”

  His heart skipped a beat as he turned to stare northward. It took him a while to find the tiny shape, and if they had not been flying so low he would not have seen it easily against the sea. It, too, wasn’t more than a few hundred paces above the water. The capsule was pointed at the front and seemed larger than the average aircart’s, though not as big as an aircarriage capsule. Though he was seeing it from nearly directly front on, something about the shape of the propeller arms was familiar. His stomach sank as he realised what it was.

  “That,” he said, “is a Dart, one of the Empire’s fighting carts. Designed for speed. There’ll be two sorcerers on board – one to fly and shield it so the other is free to fight.”

  “Will they have seen us?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Are they hunting us?”

  “It would be wise to assume so.”

  “Will we reach the shore before they get here?”

  “I don’t know. We have no choice but to try. Increase the speed of the propellers.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “You want me to keep flying?”

  “Do you have any fighting training or experience?”

  She smiled grimly and turned back to grip the wheel with both hands. Tyen made his way back to Sezee.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  She nodded, her eyes wide. “Most of it. Should I strap myself in?”

  He shook his head. “If the cart falls, try to leap off and outward before we land, or you might be caught and dragged under the water. Can you swim?”

  “Of course.” She gave him a lofty look. “Everyone on the islands learns to swim. Can you?”

  He grimaced. “No. If we cut the capsule off before it sinks the chassis should float. It’s mostly wood.”

  “But the capsule is full of air.”

  “If we hit the water it’s unlikely it will be.” The buzz of the propellers had steadily increased and the vibration began to shake the chassis. He could hear the capsule support struts creaking. “N
o more, Veroo,” he called. “Or the cart will shake itself apart.”

  Looking northward, he noted how much closer the other cart was. He could see enough detail to confirm his suspicions were right. It was a Dart and it was flying at full speed, directly towards them. Looking over Veroo’s shoulder, he saw a jagged blue shape above the horizon and his heart leapt. Mountains.

  The wind was still at their back, driving them towards land. He looked from the mountains to the Dart and back, again and again, trying to gauge the advance of both. As time crawled by, the peaks slowly grew and joined at the base to form a coastline, while the Dart doubled and tripled in size. He shook his head. It was going to be close. Even if they made it to land in time they’d still have two sorcerers experienced in aerial conflict to deal with. All they’d gain was a chance of landing on firm ground if the aircart was damaged.

  They had a little time to ready themselves, fortunately. Tyen moved to the back and untied his satchel from where he’d kept it bound onto the chassis, transferred Vella to it and slung it over his head and one shoulder. It wouldn’t save Vella or Beetle from a dunking, but he’d be less likely to lose them than if he put them in his pockets. If they survived this, he decided, he would modify Beetle so it could swim.

  He then transferred most of Kilraker’s remaining money to Sezee’s bag. The paper notes would be ruined by water and the coins would weigh him down. The Empire’s coinage would probably be worthless in the Far South anyway, which no doubt had a money system of its own. For a second he was a little breathless, wondering how he would survive in a strange land with no money.

  I should have bought some gold and gemstones to exchange. There hadn’t been any time or opportunity. At the least, he might be able to use Kilraker’s remaining money to bribe the sorcerers into letting them go.

  Sezee had unlaced her boots and was tying them together, looped through her belt. Since she knew about swimming, he decided to follow suit. Veroo had done nothing, her attention no doubt taken up with driving the aircart.

  He glanced to the north and felt his heart skip. The Dart was closing in faster than he had guessed. Watching it approach, he tried to ignore the fluttering within his stomach.

  What will they do? The Academy wanted to keep its secrets safe. To do that it needed to destroy Vella and silence Tyen. The sorcerers in the Dart had probably heard about the aircart driver who had ordered Tyen to shore only to receive a broken arm and lose his aircart. So they knew their quarry would put up a fight. The Academy may even have decided that, if Tyen couldn’t be captured, it had no choice but to order its sorcerers to kill him.

  But what of Sezee and Veroo? Surely the Academy would not risk the lives of the two women, even if they had not worked out the pair were of the West Isles’ royal line. It might consider the women accomplices and therefore criminals, or even rebels. Tyen might have told them the Academy’s secrets. Nobody would hear about their deaths if they happened out at sea, unobserved and leaving no evidence.

  He shivered. It was better to be prepared for the worst, he decided. At that thought the press of responsibility settled on his shoulders like a heavy coat. Sezee and Veroo were here because of him. They would not now be in a stolen aircart heading to the Far South if they hadn’t helped him. They might still have learned about the distant land by another means and sought to go there if they hadn’t met him, but they would have travelled in safer company.

  I must make sure they make it safely to shore at the least, he thought. Even if it means being captured. Even if it means being killed. But what of Vella? He frowned, then nodded to himself at the obvious answer. He must find a way to slip her among Veroo’s belongings.

  That decided, he turned his thoughts back to the coming battle and considered what he knew of magical fighting.

  It all came down to using as little magic as possible to the greatest effect. Moving and stilling were the least taxing ways to use magic in battle. Heating and cooling were those two actions intensified, but the greater the temperature change the greater the magic required. Attacking by heating the air and throwing the resulting “fire” ball was much less economical than projecting a missile at the enemy.

  The most common weapon in a fighting aircart was a stock of arrows. They were small and sharp and didn’t add much weight. Cannon and shot were too heavy. A skilled sorcerer could launch hundreds of arrows at once. A sprung bow or two were kept on board fighting aircarts in case the sorcerer ran out of magic or flew into Soot, though they were less useful as they could shoot only one arrow at a time.

  Unfortunately, he did not have a supply of projectiles on board. At least, nothing that would cause his enemy any discomfort. Throwing his, Sezee’s and Veroo’s shoes might cause a few bruises, but they didn’t have a large supply of those either.

  He was probably better off saving magic for defence, anyway. The first thing an attacker would do was attempt to take hold of the enemy aircart, as Tyen had done when he’d stolen this one. To prevent that he could take hold of it himself, but that took more power than simply creating a shield of stilled air the enemy couldn’t reach through. And the shield had the twin purpose of repelling missiles.

  Reaching out to either side, he took in magic and used a little of it to still a thin layer of air before and above the aircart, about twenty paces away on the side facing the Dart. He made it strong enough to slow an arrow rather than stop it, to conserve magic, and orientated it with the cart so it moved along with it. The other cart was close enough now that he could make out the shapes of the two occupants and sense the trail of Soot streaming behind their vehicle. As he watched he saw black emptiness billow out on either side as the sorcerers prepared to attack.

  Glancing towards the coast, he saw that it was now a line of green below mountains grown darker and more distinct, with paler peaks visible behind them.

  We’re not going to make it.

  A shock went through him as something passed through the barrier. An arrow tumbled down and landed in the sea. He muttered a curse.

  “What?” Sezee asked. “You stopped it.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “But I should have caught it. We have nothing to throw at them.”

  “What about this?”

  He tore his gaze from the Dart and looked down. She held a small knife with a curved, notched blade. It was a surprisingly nasty-looking weapon.

  “You’ve been carrying that all this time?”

  “It comes in handy. Especially when Veroo and I are separated.”

  “Do you know how to use it?”

  “If you mean in a fight, then yes.”

  He shook his head. “Then keep it. If nothing else, you might need it to cut ropes or something—”

  At a further shock he looked up again. Another arrow tumbled towards the water. This time he reached out and caught it with magic, moving it to his hand. Before he could send it back towards the Dart, however, the air between the aircarts filled with thin, dark lines. Trying to catch several at once was like trying to grab a handful of twigs. He settled for grabbing them one at a time, but had caught only three when Veroo called out:

  “We’re dropping.”

  It was subtle, but now that Veroo had pointed it out he could feel it. With a sinking feeling he looked up at the capsule. The front appeared unharmed, though he could only see the bottom half. As he turned to examine the rear, Sezee made a small noise of surprise. She was staring up, crawling backwards away from him.

  Following her gaze, he froze, startled to see a long blade suspended a mere hand’s width from his nose. It was attached to the end of a spear, protruding from the belly of the capsule.

  He cursed as he realised his mistake. He’d been taught that it was better to save strength by protecting only the side of a cart facing the enemy. Moving something in a direct line only required that a sorcerer propel it that way, while sending it on an indirect path meant controlling it for the entire journey, which took more magic and concentration.

  Which wa
s effort worth expending if one simple strike brought the enemy down. The sorcerers in the Dart had moved the spear behind Tyen’s aircart then propelled it through the capsule. With the capsule blocking the view upward, Tyen could never have seen it coming.

  He cursed again, then apologised to Sezee.

  “Oh, this is no time for manners,” she told him. “Are you going to pull that out?”

  He shook his head. “If it didn’t come all the way through it might have barbs.” Drawing more magic, he extended the barrier around the entire aircart so it formed an elongated bubble. No longer helped along by the wind, the aircart slowed a little.

  “So there’s an even bigger hole in the top of this?”

  “Probably.” He felt sick with disappointment. It had been a stupid mistake, not protecting the whole aircart. But it’s what I was taught to do. It’s not like I’ve done this before, he reminded himself, but he felt no better.

  “Tyen,” Veroo called, her tone full of warning.

  He whirled around to see that the Dart was angling towards the coast, clearly intending to head them off. Then he saw that the land ahead was closer than he’d dared hope. Trees covered it – a forest larger than any he’d seen before stretching towards the mountains. It grew right to the water’s edge, where a small cliff outlined the break between water and earth.

  “There’s nowhere to land,” Veroo pointed out.

  “We’ll find a clearing. Open all of the lower valves of the capsule and move air inside, heating it as you do.”

  “Already am,” she replied.

  Which was why they weren’t rapidly heading for the water. Tyen turned his attention back to the Dart, which was steadily drawing closer and ahead of them. Soot was blossoming all around it as the sorcerers took the magic he and Veroo would need to drive and defend the cart.

  He saw, then, the Dart occupants’ ploy. They would fly in front, robbing the way ahead of magic. The obvious reaction would be to turn the aircart to avoid the Soot. The Dart would turn the same way, slowly circling around until they had the aircart trapped within a ring of Soot, spiralling in until Tyen and Veroo had used up all the magic within.