Thief's Magic

by Trudi Canavan

  Ysser’s pace slowed on the stairs, but he lengthened his stride when they reached the level above the one containing Tyen’s room. He steered Tyen down a corridor to a large door, then pushed through. Following, Tyen entered a large room lined with cabinets filled with objects both familiar and strange. A collection of skeletons and bones of humans and animals filled one, and stuffed animals loaded the shelves of another. Instruments and vessels of various shapes reminded Tyen of the Academy’s experimentation rooms. Rolls of paper and books took up at least half of the cabinets, or were stacked on the floor.

  In the centre was a table on which a plan of some sort had been placed, the corners weighed down by an ink pot, a rock, a goblet and a shoe. Tyen would have paused to examine it as they passed if a much bigger, stranger object hadn’t caught his attention. Like the aircart, it had a chassis of wood mostly covered in fabric and a kind of rudder at one end, but instead of a capsule another fabric-covered framework had been fixed above, at right angles. Flatter than it was tall, the front edge curved and the rear tapered to a point. If Tyen hadn’t been at the top of a castle carved out of a spire of rock and far from the sea, he would have thought it some strange sort of sailing craft, and assumed the flat edge swivelled up to catch the wind. Wheels were fixed to the chassis, and the whole contraption rested on a wooden platform, sloping towards a pair of large doors.

  “Mig,” Ysser called, then spoke a few rapid words in Sselt.

  A head rose from behind the vehicle’s chassis. Tyen caught a glimpse of a boy’s wide eyes, then the head disappeared again. After a moment the owner, who looked old enough soon to be venturing into adulthood, shyly crept out into view.

  “I introduss you to Mig,” Ysser said. He turned to the boy and Tyen heard his false name “Aren Coble”. The sorcerer turned back. “Mig is…” He paused, then pointed to his forehead. “Good here.”

  “Smart,” Tyen offered. “Clever. Your apprentice?”

  Ysser frowned.

  “You teach him magic?”

  The old man straightened and shook his head. “No. He has no magic. So he is … smart.” Ysser reached out to touch the vehicle. “He made this.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It fly. No magic. It…” He said a word in Sselt and moved his hand like a bird gliding. “He make many for people in Tyeszal so they go ffay out faster.” He smiled and moved to the doors. Mig hurried over to help. Unbolting them, they swung them inward, letting in bright sunlight. They latched them to the walls to prevent them swinging in the wind that now rushed into the room, making the rolls of paper rustle in their cabinets.

  Ysser beckoned, then walked outside. Following, Tyen pulled up sharply as he found himself on a balcony with no railing between him and a drop to the land far, far below. Though he was not usually bothered by heights, the lack of protection and the wind buffeting him roused an instinctive fear.

  As if intended to disorientate him more, a flyer swooped past, the girl’s arms outstretched. The Soot that marked her path began to shrink. He’d never seen it fade so quickly. It would be gone by the end of the day, he estimated.

  He moved back into the room and examined the flying vehicle. It would take a precise aim to bring it back inside the doors. And with no capsule to lift it … “How do you get it back up again?” Tyen asked, mimicking the hand movement, but bringing his hand up.

  “Un-make and…” The sorcerer mimicked carrying something under his arm.

  Tyen nodded to show his understanding. It was a one-way flight, and not one the driver would want to take on a whim when it took so much effort to return home. But it could be brought up on the platforms, he supposed, if it could be dismantled into small enough pieces.

  Moving closer, he saw that the driver actually sat within the chassis on a simple seat, a set of levers in front of him. He wondered how much skill it would take to keep it airborne and control the direction it flew. There would be no hovering. It seemed a far more limited vehicle than an aircart in that respect.

  The boy watched silently, shyness and pride radiating from him as Tyen examined his invention. When Tyen tried to ask him a question, the lad looked uncomfortable. Considering how he might win Mig over, Tyen remembered Beetle. He’d slung his satchel over his shoulder as he’d left his room, as much from habit as not wanting to leave his most precious possessions behind. Opening the flap, he looked up at Mig and smiled.

  “Beetle,” he said. “Fly.”

  At once the insectoid stirred into life, wings buzzing as it launched into the air. The boy’s eyes went wide and jumped back, then he gaped in fascination as Beetle whirred around Tyen’s head.

  “Rest,” Tyen said, and the insectoid landed on his shoulder. He took hold of it and held it out. Ysser and the boy came over to peer down at it, both wearing the same expression of curiosity and excitement.

  Tyen had been explaining how it worked for only a short time when a piping sound drew their attention to the balcony. A girl around Mig’s age stood between the open doors, with what Tyen guessed was a whistle between her teeth. Her fitted clothing was a flier uniform and he guessed its green colour indicated she was a messenger of the king. She stared at Tyen with a bold curiosity that he suspected he would have to grow used to as a stranger in this land, then spat the whistle out, held a palm outward towards Ysser and said something. Tyen recognised the word “Cryll”.

  The old man turned to Tyen and smiled apologetically. “I must go. You go to your room no guide?”

  Tyen nodded. “I will find my way there.”

  The boy looked disappointed as Tyen placed Beetle back in the satchel.

  “Beetle, sleep,” Tyen said. At once the insectoid curled up its legs and went still.

  He followed Ysser out, then made his way back to his room alone. There he found a generous meal laid out on a table. His stomach growled when he saw it, though his morning meal had been no small affair either. The tour must have taken far longer than he had realised.

  After he had sated his hunger he rose and walked over to one of the small windows. He estimated it was about mid-afternoon. For a while he gazed out at the world so far below, then he returned to the chair.

  What should he do now? Though nobody had told him he must stay in his room, knowing he was living in the palace made him reluctant to roam around without a guide or reassurance that his exploration would be welcome. He could seek out Veroo and Sezee, but they were probably in the middle of their own tour of the castle. He would see them when they were done.

  So he drew Vella out of the satchel and filled her in on what he had seen and learned.

  The king said we could stay a few days. What should we do then? Tyen asked.

  To remain longer would be to outstay your welcome, and you should keep moving in case the Academy does cross the mountains in pursuit, she replied.

  If any sorcerers did, it would take them a few days to prepare for such a journey. A Dart was too large and heavy for the crossing, so they’d need to find a smaller aircart or two and provisions.

  The king or Ysser may be happy to suggest where you would be well received in Sseltee, Vella said. And a solution to the problem of money. You have the aircart so transport is no issue, but you still need food and, where necessary, to pay for a bed each night.

  Yes, I will have to ask if they will exchange their currency for mine – what’s left of it. He’d given the foresters who’d helped him repair the aircart all of the heavy coinage and most of the paper money left from Kilraker’s bags.

  Someone may buy the money as an item of curiosity.

  I wonder how Sezee and Veroo plan to overcome this problem. If Veroo is accepted into the school of magic, how will they pay their way?

  From what I picked up in her mind, Sezee has some jewellery to sell and is confident she will find a way to earn money as a singer.

  Singer? She sings?

  Yes.

  Tyen frowned. In all this time he’d never heard Sezee sing. He was filled with a s
udden curiosity to hear her. Perhaps he’d ask her about it later. He turned his attention back to the question of what to do next.

  I will ask Ysser for maps and suggestions for places to explore, he said. Perhaps … perhaps I should show you to Ysser before leaving. You would learn a lot from him. But should I trust him to give you back? I’ve only just met him. He seems nice enough – but Kilraker seemed nice enough until he set me up. What if Ysser tries to steal you, or tells the king about you and the king decides he should own you?

  You must weigh the advantages against the risks.

  Tyen shook his head. It would be foolish to trust the old man so quickly. He would have to make his own way. He could go with Veroo to the school of magic. Gowel didn’t think the sorcerers were as advanced as those of the Academy, but if he was to find a way to restore Vella he had better seize every opportunity for a magical education.

  Would that be the best way to improve my skills and knowledge? he wondered.

  The best way would be for you to leave this world and its limitations, and seek out the best teachers of the worlds.

  He chuckled. That’s not very helpful advice.

  No? I can teach you how to travel between worlds. All you need to find is enough magic.

  But there isn’t enough in this world, is there?

  There might be. There is more magic here at Tyeszal than anywhere else I have been in this world and time.

  Tyen’s skin prickled at the thought. Travel the worlds? Was it really possible?

  However, the locals may object to you depleting so much of what they have generated. You may find other places in the south where magic is being created but not used.

  So you are saying that I shouldn’t go to the school, but should seek out one of these places so I can leave this world?

  That would be the best way to improve your skills and—

  A knock at the door snatched his attention away. He took a deep breath, slipped Vella inside his shirt and walked over to answer it.

  No sooner had the latch clicked open than the door was pushed inward. Sezee bustled in, taking in his surrounds with a critical eye. She had changed her clothes to the local garb since arriving but was wearing her warm jacket, scarf and gloves on top.

  “Nice room. Ours is bigger, but has two beds. Where have you been all day?”

  Tyen followed her to the centre of the room. “Ysser took me for a tour of the castle. Well, until he was interrupted by a summons from the k—”

  Sezee whirled to face him. “A tour? And you didn’t come and get us?”

  He stared at her. “Um. No. Well, I expected you’d join us but when you didn’t I thought they must have taken you out separately.”

  She pursed her lips, then smiled and shrugged. “Yes, they did. But it would have been nicer to look around together, wouldn’t it? When we asked if you could come along they went to fetch you, but you’d already gone. Didn’t you ask if we could come with you?”

  “I … um…”

  She tsked and moved to the window. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve come to say goodbye.”

  He stared at her in surprise. “Goodbye?” he repeated.

  She turned to face him. “Yes. Veroo and I are leaving. A group of young Sselts set off to the school two days ago, as they apparently do twice a year, but they’re travelling slowly and we should catch up by midnight.”

  “You’re leaving now?”

  “Once I’m finished talking to you.” She walked over to him. Her gaze moved everywhere except his face. “It takes a few months to get to the school, which will give us time to learn the language.”

  “But…”

  Her eyes rose to meet his. “But?”

  “So soon. We’ve only just got here and I…”

  She smiled – or, rather, her lips widened but her eyes showed no humour. “You?”

  “I haven’t decided what to do next.”

  Her half-smile faded and a crease appeared between her brows. She took a step closer and reached out towards his face. The soft hide of her gloves brushed his cheek.

  “Dear Tyen,” she said softly. “That confirms all my suspicions. If you felt for me as I do for you there would be no decision to make.”

  He looked down, heart twisting with both guilt and sadness. “I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say.

  She sighed. “There is nothing to apologise for. I don’t mind. How could I? But it is no fun being with someone you love when the feeling isn’t reciprocated.” Her voice caught and he looked up to see her blinking quickly. She stepped back. “We are going to the school. You can’t. If the Academy follows you here it’s the first place they’ll look. So we were always going to part. It has been a grand adventure, Tyen. For that Veroo and I thank you. You brought us across the uncrossable mountains. You taught Veroo to fly.”

  He followed and caught up one of her hands. “I owe you a greater thanks for helping me leave Leratia and escape the Academy. Please, pass on my gratitude to Veroo for helping drive the aircart, too. She did very well. I think she may have a natural knack for it.”

  She smiled, squeezed his hand then pulled hers away. “I will tell her. She’ll be quite chuffed to hear that. And sorry she didn’t get the chance to say goodbye herself.”

  He frowned. “Where is she?”

  “Packing. We really do need to leave quickly if we are going to catch up with the recruits.” She turned towards the door, then paused and looked back. “By the way, the king gave us quite a generous exchange rate. He wants to have some money on hand for when the next lot of northerners turn up. Which I think is a good hint of how soon you need to leave, Tyen. And don’t tell anyone where you are going.”

  He nodded. “I won’t.”

  She gazed at him for a moment longer, her expression sad, then managed a smile. Without another word she headed for the door. A few steps and she was gone.

  He stared at the back of the door. Am I mad for letting her go? he wondered. He nearly hurried after her to ask them to wait for him to pack and join them. But her warning kept him still.

  “… don’t tell anyone where you are going …”

  Tonight he would find out as much as he could about the Far South from Ysser, and let the man know that he was keen to begin his exploration as soon as possible – if not tomorrow then the day after. He would either have to avoid saying where he would go, or lie about his intended destination.

  But for now there was nothing he could do but wait until Ysser returned. The old man was the only person who knew enough Leratian to tell him what he needed to know, and he was currently attending to the king. Frustrated, Tyen kept himself distracted by tossing objects towards the bed and teaching Beetle to fly after and catch them. He found himself imagining Sezee and Veroo making their way down endless stairs to the city below, despite knowing they had probably ridden one of the wooden platforms at the centre of the spire. Though Sezee would not have liked that. Not at all. Hmm, I wonder if her dislike of heights was part of the reason for her eagerness to leave.

  Finally, a tapping came at the door. He grabbed Vella and ordered Beetle into the satchel, then went to answer it. A messenger greeted him with open palm. While the flyers were all girls, the messengers who worked inside the spire were all boys. This one held up a piece of paper.

  “The Cryll requests you join him for dinner,” he said, slowly and with great care. “Bring Beetle. Follow me.”

  Tyen slung his satchel over his shoulder, stepped out of the room and nodded. At once the boy turned and started down the corridor.

  As he followed his young guide, Tyen considered how he should approach his questioning of Ysser. If he was to ensure nobody knew where he’d gone, he could not show too much interest in any places the old man suggested he visit. Or else he should show interest in destinations he didn’t want to visit and a lack of interest in those that appealed. Though the next time the Academy came visiting the old man would learn that Aren Coble was actually Tyen Ironsmelter and perh
aps guess he’d only been pretending disinterest.

  The boy, with the thoughtlessness of youth, dashed up the last flight of stairs with enviable speed. Tyen followed, but had to pause to catch his breath at the top. More guards stood along the corridor leading to the rooms in which the king entertained and met visitors. They regarded him with wary looks, so he pushed himself on.

  The boy did not lead him to the dining room, but towards a pair of large, ornate doors. A guard opened one for Tyen. The boy gestured to the opening then hurried away to his next task. Still breathing quickly, Tyen stepped through.

  The room he entered was not large, but made up for it in grandeur. Tall windows allowed in the afternoon light, currently a deep red from the setting sun. The colour reflecting off the gilding on the paintings and plasterwork made it look as if the room was on fire. It also cast the occupants of the room into russet-edged shadows, so Tyen had to squint to see their faces.

  When he did, his blood froze.

  “Tyen Ironsmelter,” Professor Kilraker said. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  PART EIGHT

  RIELLE

  CHAPTER 20

  The merchant’s camp surrounded the well. Firelight threw warped, elongated shadows of men onto the sand, stretching to join with those of long-legged kapo, their burdens still strapped to their narrow backs. Even the steam rising from the pot the cook carried to his fellows cast a shadow.

  Sa-Mica turned away and led the way back down the road. In the distance the dune that they’d climbed over was a pale crescent. Nobody could stop the sands shifting in the winds, but the road was straight so wherever dunes covered it a person only had to walk onwards and they would easily find it again on the other side.

  “We aren’t going to join them?” Sa-Gest asked.

  “They would not rest well knowing a tainted was close by,” Sa-Mica replied.

  “What about refilling our flasks?”

  “It can wait until morning.”

  “Mine’s empty.”

  “You must drink more slowly.”

  “I would have if I’d known, but…”