Tempest

by Mercedes Lackey

  Once they arrived, Gan bid farewell and went about his business as Bassyl got everything ready to do open. As he put his wares on display, he felt a prickling sensation at the base of his neck, as though he were being watched. He looked around, but he didn’t see anyone paying him any particular attention. The shopkeepers on either side were engrossed in their own sales and barely managed more than a passing glance at him.

  Shrugging off the sensation as best as he could, Bassyl went about his business. He made sure the necklaces were displayed at the perfect angle to catch the light and separated enough to provide a potential customer with a view of as many as possible. He laid out the bracelets across the front edge of the table with practiced motions, unstacking them into two long rows ready for people to peruse. He kept everything toward the center of his stall, leaving the ends empty and less of a target for pickpockets and other unsavory characters.

  Then began the process of attracting customers to his establishment. Bassyl called out to passersby to let them know how valuable his wares were, and how they were truly representative of the magnificent jewels and workmanship of Karse as a whole. The practiced words tumbled off his lips with barely a thought, even his cadence remaining the same, as well as the sing-song tone used to capture people’s attention. He told the same jokes and paid the same compliments regardless of how many people stopped at his stall, only stopping to swallow some water in an attempt to soothe the itching sensation creeping up from the base of his neck.

  As the edge of the sun kissed the top of the buildings to his left, the crowds thinned. What was once a continuous press of people became a scattering of three or four distinct groups wandering from one stall to another with specific purpose. Several of his neighbors had already begun packing up their wares and preparing for the trip home.

  During this lull, Bassyl took stock of his wares. The day had been less lucrative than usual, enough so that it was a disappointment. He thought the number of people stopping at his stall was unusually low, but he hadn’t realized that his business was less than half of what he expected. His eyebrows scrunched together as he sat down and replayed the events of the day in his mind, trying to determine what the problem was. The customers were plentiful, but fewer people seem willing to buy. He reached out and picked up one of the bracelets, turning it over in his hand and examining it. It was the same type of gear he was used to selling, but apparently it had less appeal. Perhaps the market for this quality of jewelry was tapped out and he would need to reinvest.

  His mind made up, Bassyl closed up his shop a little earlier than normal. He usually ran until the Temple-mandated shut down, but he wanted to see Niana before the business day concluded. She would be able to sell him some higher quality pieces, provided she had still them in stock.

  He rushed into the house, tucking the box of jewelry around the corner and grabbing the sack of coins stashed in the hidden drawer of his desk. Then he sprinted out and turned to the edge of town, heading to Niana’s warehouse.

  Unlike this morning, Bassyl had no trouble navigating the path through the city. Only once did he slow down to weave around a small family loading their supplies into a wagon as they closed up shop.

  As he turned the last corner, he saw Niana in the front door of her warehouse, standing in front of the trading table and negotiating a deal with another merchant Bassyl didn’t recognize. He slowed his pace, taking a few moments to catch his breath. He kept a respectful distance but got close enough to hear the tail end of the conversation.

  “Agreed. I can get you four crates by tomorrow morning as soon as the market opens. A pleasure doing business with you.”

  The stranger nodded and turned to leave. When he saw Bassyl standing there, he paused, looking the other merchant over from head to toe before his nose wrinkled and he continued on his way. Bassyl watched him go, trying to recall if he knew the man, but eventually he conceded he did not. He turned back to Niana, surprised to see her stacking her logbooks without her usual care. She slammed one closed with a bent page, creasing it in her rush.

  “I was hoping to do some business.”

  Niana shook her head as she continued closing up her business. She kept her eyes down as she sorted her supplies, making sure that everything was accounted for. “Sorry, we’re closed. Temple rules and all.”

  “Temple law dictates that we have until the sun touches the horizon. It is still a whole hand’s width above that. You never close early.”

  “I don’t want to risk the wrath of the priests. They’ve been on the warpath. All the Mage burning has them worked up. Better safe than sorry.”

  Bassyl stepped forward and put his hands on the table, leaning forward and invading her space. She tried to reach around him and grab one of the books still resting there, so Bassyl put his hand on it, pressing down so she would have to rip it out from underneath him. That got her to raise her gaze to meet his.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve heard things.” When Bassyl didn’t respond or move, Niana shifted her weight from one foot to the other before taking a deep breath and continuing in a whisper. “I’ve heard rumors, and I can’t risk doing business with one of you.”

  “What do you mean, one of me? I’m no Mage.”

  “I know that. If you were, I wouldn’t even speak to you. I’ve just heard that you were . . .” Niana gestured with her hand, making vague circles in the air. She chewed on her bottom lip, looking up at him.

  “Ah. Well, I wouldn’t want you to be put in an uncomfortable position. I appreciate your business. When this rumor is put to rest, maybe we can continue our arrangement.”

  “I’d like nothing more.”

  Bassyl lifted his hand and stuck it out in a gesture of friendship toward his former business associate. She grasped it and shook several times. Bassyl had no delusions surrounding the release of tension in her features. It was clear that their partnership had reached an end. It was a shame, considering how lucrative it had been. Still, he would be able to find another partner, someone willing to bring goods to Karse for him to sell, minus a small handler’s fee.

  His steps were slow as he headed back home. His brain danced around the possibilities of who might serve as an appropriate replacement for Niana. It was a shame she’d heard something that made her uncomfortable, but he couldn’t allow his trade to fail because of one failed arrangement.

  Walking down his street, he froze as soon as his stall came into view. Someone had scrawled “SHAYCH” in crude letters along the canvas wall that helped to separate it from its neighbors.

  Bassyl rushed forward and pulled the wall down, ripping it in the process. The sound was so loud and sudden, he felt it must have caught the attention of everyone in the area. He whipped his head around, looking up and down the street in both directions, but it was mostly deserted. Only a few stragglers remained, and they didn’t glace in his direction. Nonetheless, Bassyl felt a familiar chill creep across his skin and sink into his bones, making him tremble for a moment. He rushed into the house and slammed the door, leaning against it with the tattered canvas still in his arms.

  It took several breaths before he could calm himself enough to breathe easily and open his eyes. The sun had set, plunging the interior into darkness except for a couple of small pools near the windows. He needed to think.

  Apparently, it was more than just an idle rumor. Someone had heard of his preferences and was deliberately targeting him. Who could it be? He had been so careful, always making sure to keep his activities discreet. The threat of death served as a wonderful motivator. Bassyl shook his head. It didn’t matter how the word had gotten out. All that mattered was that someone, or multiple people, had heard and were taking action. It was only a matter of time before word reached the Temple. When that happened, nothing could save him.

  There was no point in worrying about it now. Bassyl took the canvas and dropped it into his work a
rea. He’d need to scrub the writing off the side, or paint over it. That could wait until morning. For now, he needed to rest. There was no point in eating, however. His stomach felt too tight to keep food down, plus he wasn’t hungry after the adventures of the evening. Instead, he shuffled to his bed and collapsed on it, closing his eyes and trying to sleep before images of the Temple soldiers invaded his dreams.

  • • •

  Bassyl woke several hours later. He wasn’t sure what caused him to wake, but he bolted upright, looking around to see if anything was amiss. He didn’t see anything, so he cocked his head to listen. In the distance, he heard the distinct rattle of soldiers wearing heavy armor. The sound was faint, coming from a fair distance, and sounding like they were attempting to be stealthy.

  Bassyl jumped to his feet and stood there, legs tense and knees bent as he glanced around. The guards were probably coming for him, just as he dreamed they would. This wasn’t another dream, was it? Grabbing the webbing of his right hand, he pinched hard enough to make himself wince, but he didn’t wake up.

  He rushed over and grabbed a sack, shoving some clothes and food into it, whatever was within easy reach. Throughout it all, the sound grew louder as the guards came closer.

  Thankfully, his house had a back exit. Stepping into the small street that paralleled the market road, Bassyl was struck by how much the temperature had dropped. He pulled his cloak tightly around him as he looked up and down the street, not sure which way to go. While he was debating, he saw a flash of color off to his left. It looked like a small cream-colored cat with an orange-tipped tail. It was only a glimpse, and then the animal was gone. Curious, Bassyl headed after it.

  As he got to the corner where the animal disappeared, he saw the tip of the tail as the cat continued walking away from him. Bassyl found himself following the cat, not even sure of why he was doing it. One thing was sure—the animal was leading him on a path through the city, always staying behind long enough just to be seen before disappearing around a corner. While he chased the animal, Bassyl forgot about the sound of marching soldiers.

  After several twists and turns, the cat jumped up to sit on a barrel across from a small house on the edge of the city. It looked sleek and regal as it sat with its head held high and its eyes riveted on the building across the way. Bassyl crept up, not wanting to disturb the animal. He was filled with a sense of awe and had a brief moment of hope. Would the animal speak to him? But surely that would mean it was a dream. Firecats were the stuff of legend, gone for generations.

  When he was even with the barrel, the cat turned to look at him, and Bassyl’s breath caught as he made eye contact. There was an intelligence there far beyond anything he had seen before, and a sense of serenity he hadn’t experienced in years. He couldn’t say how long he stood there, hypnotized by the cat’s gaze. He only knew he wished it didn’t have to end.

  A fierce pounding shook him out of his reverie and back to the real world. Several of the Temple Guard pounded on the front door of the home, hard enough that the wood cracked under their assault. Several of the guards had torches, and the universal sneer on their faces made their intent all too clear.

  :Save her.:

  The voice in his head caught him by surprise. Bassyl found himself answering before he even realized what he was doing. “I can’t save anyone. Not even myself.”

  :She needs you. The window at the back. She will be there. Tell her she will be safe.:

  Bassyl opened his mouth to respond, but the guards at the front of the house began charging at the door, impacting it with their armored shoulders. The wood splintered and groaned, clearly about to give way. Cursing under his breath, Bassyl rushed forward, ducking over in the hopes that it would make him less visible as he approached the back of the house. Just as he reached it, he heard the front door crash and a scream from inside the building.

  Now that he was here, he didn’t hesitate. Bassyl reached up and stuck his arms through the window, reaching into the dimly lit room. Light danced on the other side of a curtain as a woman and man argued with the Temple guards. A young girl, almost half Bassyl’s size, huddled in the corner, staring at him with wide eyes as he reached in. Her hands were knotted in her long dark hair and she froze as soon as she saw the intruder.

  “Come with me. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  The child didn’t move, and Bassyl was worried she wouldn’t listen to his pleas. There was no way he could fit through the window; it was too narrow. A solid impact sounded from the front room, followed by the heavy thud of a body striking the ground. A sharp scream pierced the humid air, abruptly cut short with a sickening, wet sound. The girl whipped her head around to look at the curtain, pushing with her feet as if she could hide herself in the wall.

  “Please.”

  Bassyl’s voice caught her attention. She rushed forward, running into his hands. She was light, lighter than he expected. He lifted her up and pulled her through the window just as the curtain was brushed aside. Bassyl tucked the child against his hip, wrapping his cloak around her as he turned and ran, ignoring the soldier shouting behind him. He felt the sudden heat of a rush of flames as the entire roof blazed into an inferno, like a spark striking a hayfield in the middle of a drought. Bassyl didn’t have time to thank Vkandis for the luck. He just ran.

  Up ahead, the cat appeared again, dropping down from a rooftop to land in the middle of the alley. It ran off, once again taking the lead. Bassyl followed, hoping it knew where it was going as it led them on a labyrinthine trail around the buildings. He heard the city start to wake up as the predawn light made the horizon glow purple.

  The entire time, he clutched the child to his side. She wrapped her arms around his chest and her legs around his waist, holding on as Bassyl ran, following an animal of legend that he swore had spoken to him. It was almost too much to accept, so Bassyl focused on just putting one foot in front of the other, drowning out the other details. He was only vaguely aware as they finally reached the far side of Ebervergen and headed toward the mountains, the feline now in plain view as it scampered across the open ground.

  It must have been hours before they finally stopped, and Bassyl collapsed to the ground in front of a small cave at the base of the mountains. After they had left the city, the cat had slowed its pace, but it refused to let him rest. Bassyl was more than willing to agree, wanting to put as much distance between him and the city as possible. Even if he could make the shaych accusation disappear, which was not guaranteed, he was pretty sure that abducting a child—especially one wanted by the Temple Guard—would result in his execution. They did not take kindly to those who broke their laws.

  The child crawled out from underneath his cloak and approached the cat, who sat still, watching the two humans. Her face was streaked with tears and worn with tiredness, but the muscles in her face and neck relaxed as she sat in front of the cat. Bassyl watched the two of them for a few seconds before the inevitable call of darkness claimed his consciousness.

  • • •

  When he woke, he found himself propped up against the cave wall, his cloak removed and laid over him like a blanket. The child squatted in front of him, using a stick to draw marks on the stones. The cat was nowhere to be seen. Bassyl noticed the girl was not quite as young as he had thought when he rescued her—she was just small for her age. She was still just a girl, probably only in her tenth year.

  “What’s your name?”

  The girl sat up and dropped her stick when he spoke. She turned around so she could face Bassyl and crossed her legs in front of her. “Jocelyn.”

  “Are you okay? Last night was . . .” He let the words trail off, not sure how he would describe the events of the previous evening even to himself. “Your parents . . .”

  “They weren’t my parents. I don’t know who my parents are. But they were taking care of me.”

  “I know this seems crazy. I don�
��t even know how to explain it.”

  “Hansa told me everything. She told me that it will all be okay. Vkandis will help people like us.”

  “What do you mean, people like us?”

  Jocelyn shrugged and chewed on her bottom lip. Bassyl pushed himself back so he could rest more comfortably, with his back pressed against the stone wall. He was about to ask another question when the cat entered the cave.

  :She means people who are persecuted by the charlatans who abuse their position.:

  Bassyl’s face scrunched as he tried to understand what he had been told. True, he was shaych, but there was no way that moniker could apply to Jocelyn.

  :The child is Mage-Gifted. While not the same, you two suffer the same oppressions, something that Vkandis has seen for too long.:

  “What can Vkandis do? What would he do? It’s been years of praying, and nothing changes. Two people can’t change the world.”

  :One can.: Hansa turned around, her tail swishing through the air as she walked out of the cave. :Come. We must reach Sunhame.:

  Bassyl jumped to his feet, the discarded cloak scattering to the ground in front of him. The sudden motion made Jocelyn let out a startled yelp, and she fell back away from him.

  “That’s insane. We can’t go to the capital! You won’t even tell us why or what you have planned. They’ll kill us.”

  The voice in his head rang with laughter, but it was not unkind. It felt like the laughter of a caring parent watching a child.

  :You must have faith. Or curiosity. Either one will suffice.:

  Bassyl looked at Jocelyn, who was already on her feet and following Hansa out of the cave. He stepped forward, looking back at his home for the last five years, barely visible on the horizon.

  In the opposite direction, Hansa and Jocelyn walked toward Sunhame, the bright spires visible through the haze in the distance. Bassyl wasn’t sure about his faith, but he knew he would follow the firecat to the ends of the earth if she asked it of him.