Goldenfire

by A. F. E. Smith

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘That’s new.’

  Caraway wasn’t fooled. He could see the smile trembling at the corners of her mouth, the brightness in her eyes. She was giddy with joy. And why not? It wasn’t every day a person found out they could freeze things through willpower alone.

  Given that he didn’t seem to be reacting to it at all, he rather suspected that he himself was in a state of mild shock – either that, or spending three years in close proximity to a woman who could turn into a winged unicorn had dulled his sense of wonder.

  By the time he left them, she’d managed to freeze another glassful of water, and Caraway himself was feeling more optimistic than he had in a long time. He was proud of Ayla, he realised. Even after three years, she still kept finding ways to surprise him. But more than that … this new power she’d discovered might be the weapon they needed to defend her against an assassin.

  He could only hope.

  FIFTEEN

  Bryan folded his arms and looked sternly at the assembled trainees on the other side of the table.

  ‘Today,’ he announced in a voice that brooked no argument, ‘we’ll be doing something rather different.’

  He glanced over at Miles, who was waiting quietly at the side of the room. They’d discussed the whole thing the previous night. Miles had been reluctant at first; it was another commitment that took him away from his work at the university, and he already spent his one free morning a week up at the tower with Ayla Nightshade. But he had the knowledge that Bryan himself didn’t have – and besides, he couldn’t deny that it was a good idea, even if it had come from an unlikely source.

  I’ve received another communication from Naeve Sorrow, Caraway had said the previous morning, handing over a scrappy piece of paper. This time it came with a shipment of Kardise ore on what I strongly suspect is a smuggler barge. She’s resourceful, I’ll give her that.

  Bryan had taken the message and scanned the scrawled words: I’ve accepted another job on your behalf and will send on what you need as soon as I have it. You can pay me later. In the meantime, see how they react when you mention guns.

  In fact, I didn’t say anything about paying her, Caraway had added. Still, that’s sellswords for you. So, do you think you can do it?

  What, mention guns? Bryan had considered it, before grinning. You did say you wanted the trainees to start learning about firearms, didn’t you?

  That in itself had been an interesting discussion. Caraway had been adamant that it was a good idea, but Bryan himself had offered plenty of doubts. In the end, though, he’d been forced to admit that if a Helmsman wanted to kill Ayla, he’d find a way to do it with a pistol or without one. The Helm were the only people aside from Caraway himself who were close to her on a regular basis, so they had plenty of opportunity, and they were skilled enough that they could probably incapacitate her before she had a chance to react. But the whole point of the Helm was that they were dedicated to Ayla. Training them in the use of firearms would give them no more likelihood of killing her, and it might give others less.

  Of course, that was the Helm proper. Offering the same training to a bunch of hopefuls, most of whom wouldn’t end up as Helmsmen, was a step further – and might be a step too far. But Bryan had agreed that it was worth it, on this occasion at least, in case it gave them a vital clue as to the identity of the assassin. See how they react when you mention guns. He had considered being subtle about it: dropping a remark about black-market weaponry into the conversation and seeing where it went. But since subtlety wasn’t one of his strengths, he’d gone in the opposite direction.

  He whisked the piece of cloth off the table in front of him to reveal what lay beneath. An array of pistols, varying slightly in shape and size, but all with the same lethal shine. This was the Helm’s entire cache of illegal firearms, confiscated over three years from smugglers and mercenaries. Until recently they’d sat unused in the armoury, separated from the world by multiple barriers with multiple locks. And now they were being handed over to a group of people that might contain an assassin.

  Now that Bryan had actually reached that part, it didn’t seem like quite such a good idea as it had when he’d discussed it with Miles last night.

  ‘Firearms are banned in Mirrorvale,’ he said, pushing his uncertainty to one side. ‘But they get through all the same. In the past, the Helm have kept them locked up where they can do no harm. But it’s Captain Caraway’s belief that ignorance is no use in the face of a very real threat to public order. He has decided the Helm should know their enemy. Therefore, those of you who are selected for the Helm programme will be trained in the use of firearms alongside every other kind of weaponry.’

  He tried to read the murmurs and exchanged glances that followed that announcement, but got nowhere. After all, it was natural for the trainees to be excited, intrigued, even a little daunted. They were in the fifth ring because they had a natural liking and aptitude for weaponry – yet most of them had never even seen a pistol, let alone handled one. They must feel like hunters who’d been tracking a rare and elusive beast for years, only to stumble across an entire nest of the buggers.

  ‘Today, you will examine these pistols,’ Bryan went on. ‘They aren’t loaded, so it’s quite safe. I just want you to familiarise yourself with them. You will not take them out of this room. You will not leave until I’m satisfied that every piece has been returned to me. And once I have them all back, my colleague Miles Tarantil –’ he jerked a thumb at Miles, still waiting by the wall – ‘will perform a short demonstration. Understand?’

  A ragged mumble.

  ‘I said, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ The chorus rang out. With a brisk nod, Bryan stepped back and gestured the trainees forward. As they surrounded the table, chattering amongst themselves in hushed but somehow heightened voices, he watched them. Any signs of familiarity with the weapons would be worth noting – as would, he supposed, excessive awkwardness. But nothing in particular struck him. The trainees handled the pistols with caution, and a considerable degree of interest, but that was all.

  Bryan imagined himself trying to convince a stranger that he’d never picked up a sword before. He’d probably overcompensate wildly, grimacing and fumbling and dropping it on the floor. But if he were wily enough to be an assassin, he supposed he’d exercise restraint. Watch the others, copy what they did. Try not to stand out.

  Yet if he were suddenly put in a position where his reflexes were bound to kick in – if, say, another swordsman attacked him without warning –

  ‘Excuse me, sir?’ Ree glanced up from the table. ‘Can you show us how they work?’

  Right. Hold that thought. Bryan joined the trainees and began to explain the different parts of a pistol – at least, as far as he understood them himself. Miles clearly found the vague descriptions frustrating; he edged closer to the table, putting in a word or two of correction. After a while, with Bryan’s encouragement, he had taken over the explanation completely – at which point, Bryan was free to stand back and watch their faces once more.

  ‘Are pistols dangerous to everyone, sir?’ Farleigh piped up. ‘I mean … even Changers?’

  Well, now. That was an interesting question. Did it betray too much knowledge? Or did it show an assassin’s hand too clearly to be an assassin’s question? Or was that, in fact, what an assassin would want him to think …?

  Stop that, man. Just remember everything they say and hand it over to Caraway to sort out later. For now, the most important thing is answering the damn question.

  ‘Changer creatures are impervious to all weaponry,’ he said, taking refuge in the rote response. ‘But you’re right to ask. As a Helmsman, you would need to know what might threaten those you were sworn to protect.’

  Farleigh nodded. ‘Though I was really thinking of Changers in human form. After all, they say Lord Myrren died by –’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Bryan said sharply. Lad doesn’t know when to keep his mouth sh
ut. ‘Lord Myrren’s life, and Lord Myrren’s death, are none of your concern. But yes, you are correct: Changers are more vulnerable when human. Maybe not as vulnerable as the rest of us, but vulnerable all the same.’

  There was a pause. Then Penn said with a frown, ‘But I heard that Changer creatures aren’t impervious to firearms.’

  ‘Me too,’ Timo put in. ‘They talk about it sometimes in the lower rings. A pistol can kill a Changer, and that’s why guns are banned in Mirrorvale.’

  Penn nodded. ‘I assumed that was why Darkhaven is on lockdown. Because you said the threat is from Sol Kardis, sir, and everyone knows that’s where firearms come from.’

  None of them knew when to keep their mouths shut. Just like every other group of callow youngsters I’ve ever taught, Bryan admitted to himself. Now, should he deny the rumours? Or would it be better to admit the truth and see where that led him?

  Before he could make up his mind, Saydi unwittingly came to his rescue.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand. How do these illegal pistols get into Mirrorvale? Don’t they search people at the borders?’

  Bryan opened his mouth to reply, but she was already talking again.

  ‘And anyway, I don’t see how anyone with a pistol would even get close to Lady Ayla. Security is very tight here. I mean, we’re a whole two rings away from Darkhaven, and we still had to give up our possessions to be checked before we were allowed to move into the barracks, and then again after the first week. So if one of us was an assassin –’ she giggled – ‘you’d already know it, Weaponmaster Bryan.’

  ‘Right,’ Bryan said. ‘And since the Helm are searching everyone who enters Darkhaven, there isn’t any way an illegal weapon can be smuggled in. So I suggest you all stop worrying about the possible effects of firearms on Changers and concentrate on learning how the damn things work.’

  Yet his brain was whirring. Saydi was right: what with the initial search upon admittance to the fifth ring and the more recent search of the barracks, all the trainees and their belongings had been vetted far more thoroughly than they as travellers would have been at the borders or the airship stations, before the assassination threat came to light. So if one of them was the assassin, he would have to procure a pistol somewhere in the city before he could carry out his task. In which case, it might be worth suggesting to Caraway that he question some of the known or suspected black-market traders – try and find out if anyone new had come in search of an illegal weapon recently. Of course, the average trainee would have no idea where to go in Arkannen to buy a pistol … but a Kardise assassin would.

  ‘All right,’ he said aloud. ‘Move back from the table now. Leave all the pistols there.’

  Once the two of them were satisfied that no firearm or even part of a firearm was missing, Miles began to prepare the one he’d use for his demonstration whilst Bryan locked the rest away in the portable safe. Then a thought struck him. Before we go any further … time to test their reflexes.

  He held out his hand for the pistol. ‘Can I borrow that for a moment, Miles?’

  Once he had it, he went through the motions of loading it, but without actually adding any powder. Then, holding the weapon so that it pointed loosely in the direction of the trainees, he frowned.

  ‘Funny … the mechanism’s sticking … if I just –’

  He bent his head to fiddle with the pistol, waving it in their direction without appearing to be aware of it. And as his finger tightened on the trigger, he watched them covertly.

  Miles, of course, flinched away in alarm.

  Most of the trainees stared dumbly back at him.

  And Zander dived aside as if he’d been shot in truth, pulling Ree with him.

  ‘That’s better,’ Bryan said. ‘Lucky I forgot the powder, eh? Better let the professional handle it, I think.’

  He turned away to return the pistol to Miles, trying not to let his inward smile show on his face. Well, what do you know? That was pretty damn wily.

  Miles gave him a suspicious look, but took the firearm and loaded it properly. They’d set up one of the archery targets on the far wall – The bullet will probably get all the way through, Miles had said, but the straw will slow it down at least – so Bryan herded all the trainees out of the way, leaving Miles a clear line of sight to the target.

  Bryan had seen Miles use a pistol several times before, so he was used to the sudden noise and the violence of the impact. He’d hoped that since the trainees didn’t have that level of familiarity, he’d notice some difference in their reactions when it came to that crucial point. Yet when the bullet tore through the centre of the target, the overwhelming response was cheers and applause. They were excited by the damn pistol. Hardly surprising, given their interest in weapons as a whole, but it didn’t make it easy to pick out a divergent reaction in the group.

  Miles’s eyes met his, a question in them. Bryan shook his head slightly: No idea. The demonstration didn’t prove anything either way.

  Still, he had something to tell Captain Caraway, at least. Because of all the recruits, only one had exhibited any awareness of what a pistol could do before he was shown it in action.

  ‘So now we’re alone,’ Zander said, ‘what did you make of today’s lesson on firearms?’

  He’d joined Ree as the recruits headed back to the mess hall after the day’s training, and they’d ended up talking all through the meal and beyond – until they were the only two of their cohort left, even Farleigh having given up and wandered off to seek other amusement long ago. Ree had enjoyed the whole evening more than she would have thought possible a few weeks ago. Ever since the Teamwork and Tactics session, the rest of the boys’ attitude to her had changed – because it had turned out that her team was the only one to complete the task successfully, and she had played a key part in that. Of course, the difference was minor; it wasn’t as if anyone was going to switch straight from despising her to admiring her unreservedly. But the teasing had lessened, or maybe her perception of it had simply changed, and for the first time she and her fellow trainees felt like comrades, not competitors.

  Of course, Zander had always been welcoming to her; and now that she’d got over her defensiveness towards him, and he was managing to restrain himself from riding to her rescue at least some of the time, she was well on the way to thinking of him as the closest friend she’d ever had.

  Now, not sure what he was getting at, she frowned at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, other than the fact that I saved your life –’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know. Kept you from being shot in a freak accident. Unless, of course, you think our weaponmaster was actually trying to murder you –’

  ‘Oh, stop it.’ Ree elbowed him in the ribs, laughing. ‘It wasn’t even loaded. You dragged me onto the floor for nothing.’

  ‘Other than the fact that I saved your life,’ Zander repeated, feigning an injured expression, ‘I wondered what you thought about the whole thing. Firearms have never been taught in the fifth ring before, to the Helm trainees or anyone else.’

  ‘Weaponmaster Bryan said that Captain Caraway said –’

  ‘I know what they said,’ Zander interrupted. ‘I was there. But I just thought there might be something else to it.’

  Ree considered that. ‘You mean, like trying to get the assassin to give himself away?’

  ‘Yes.’ Zander looked both admiring and a little alarmed. ‘Exactly like that.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, you made yourself suspect number one,’ Ree said. ‘Seeing as you’re the only one who reacted to the danger implied by that pistol. None of the rest of us even realised there was any danger.’ She bumped his shoulder with hers. ‘Still, it’s only a problem if you really are the assassin.’

  She was joking, but the shade of alarm in Zander’s eyes grew more pronounced. ‘Do you think that’s what people will believe?’

  ‘You’re worried about this.’ She peered at him. ‘Where did you get
your knowledge of firearms, Zander?’

  ‘Not worried, exactly. Just a little unsettled. No-one likes to be falsely suspected.’

  He’d completely ignored the question, Ree noticed.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I can vouch for the fact that you don’t believe in anything strongly enough to be an assassin.’

  ‘Aw, thanks, Ree.’ The teasing expression returned to his face. ‘I’m so glad I saved your life rather than anyone else’s.’

  ‘What about Saydi?’ The words were out before she could stop them, and instantly she wanted to take them back. They sounded too much like jealousy. But Zander only shrugged.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I just thought – she and you might –’

  ‘Gods, Ree. Have you really not noticed – no. Clearly you haven’t.’ He winked at her. ‘Unless I’m much mistaken – which never happens, obviously – she and Penn are enjoying each other’s company right now.’

  Ree stared at him. ‘Saydi and Penn? Really?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He hates people!’

  ‘Apparently not her.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ree didn’t know what to say to that. Saydi might talk too much about insignificant things and be far too … well … girly for Ree’s taste, but at least she meant well. After seeing her struggle to improve every week, Ree could even afford her a measure of grudging respect. Whereas Penn … Ree never would have put Penn with Saydi. She never would have put Penn with anyone. Penn was the angriest person she’d ever met.

  ‘Do you really think he’s the assassin?’ she asked curiously. ‘That night when the two of you fought, you said –’

  Zander shook his head. ‘Not really. I can’t imagine an assassin being furious all the time. Assassins have to be calm. Steady.’

  ‘You mean, like you?’ Ree suggested, but Zander only laughed. She would have pressed further, but at that point, the caretaker came over to throw them out of the mess hall so that he could lock it up for the night. With muttered apologies, they made for the door.