by Paul Collins
She rammed her shoulder into the door. Her teeth rattled, but still it held. At the same instant something touched her. She let out a frightened cry.
But the touch wasn't on her body. It was inside her, as though someone had dragged a ghostly feather across her mind. With it came a dizzying fragmented glimpse of the pantry door – only it was from the other side, looking up as if from the floor.
Tab began to pant. The strange vision had shaken her. It had seemed utterly real.
But she had no time for wondering. She must get out of here, and fast. Five minutes, Fontagu had said. She had less than five minutes to escape.
She pushed against the sliding door but it did not budge. Panic rose in her. Something faint and whispery touched her mind. She felt rather than saw the word ‘Danger!’ and instinctively flinched back from the door just as it whipped open.
Standing there was a tall man dressed in black. He seemed as shocked to see Tab as she was to see him. Clearly, he was no magician, but his eyes went straight to the icefire gem in Tab's fist.
He held out a hand for it. ‘Please give it to me,’ he said politely. ‘Fear not, I won't harm you.’
Oddly enough, she knew he was speaking the truth. But her survival relied heavily on the gem.
She held out the gem, then dropped it on the floor. As he moved for it, she darted past, shoved him from behind, then reached into the tangle of limbs as the man lost his balance, and snatched away the gem. She jumped backwards and hit the door lever. Instantly, the door slid shut, entombing the stranger inside. She heard an almost merry chuckle and a muffled, ‘Well done.’
Tab barely had time to gather her wits. Doors were slamming elsewhere in the building, and the running feet were coming closer.
Tab scurried across the kitchen and put her ear to the door. No, not this way. She slid a bar across, locking it, then darted to the grille by which she had entered. She thrust her head inside and heard strange barking coughs. White-faced, she withdrew. They were using ferras. The rift world predators loved tunnels. And shredding their prey when they caught it.
That way was closed. Worse, the ferras would soon be in the kitchen. She dragged a heavy cabinet in front of the grille and hoped it would slow them down, then looked about frantically. The creatures could pop up anywhere!
The rat she had seen earlier suddenly darted out from under the kitchen worktable and disappeared beneath a bench. Tab blinked. A second later, she heaved the bench aside revealing a drain used for washing down the floor. But it was too narrow, even for her. She would never fit into it. Not with her clothes on. Unless…
Tab ripped off her tunic and tore down her breeches. Stripped to her underclothes she grabbed the cooking pot of putrid dripping. An ugly swarm of flies rose to defend it. Her gorge rising, she scooped out two handfuls of the rancid muck and smeared it all over her body.
A loud impact jarred the barred door. Tab raised her hands, ready to jump. There was a soft knocking from inside the pantry. Oh, no. She had completely forgotten about the man in black. If the magicians caught him in there they would assume he had stolen the icefire gem and he would be tortured in the most horrible ways.
But there was no time to worry about anyone else's welfare.
Grunting, she snatched the grille from the drain and flung it aside. Then she grabbed a ball of string from a wall peg, the kind used to tie up turkeys and legs of lamb. She knotted one end to the pantry lever and wrapped the other in her fist.
Then she expelled all the air from her lungs and sucked in her stomach.
‘This is becoming a habit,’ she said breathlessly, and jumped into the drain. At once the string pulled tight. She heard the pantry door slam open, then she was falling.
Down she swirled, around and around. Narrow walls scraped her, corners slashed and bruised her. Tab turned around so many times, she became dizzy. At one point, she slid to a stop then realised she had breathed in. Maybe that was why she had become dizzy. But there was nothing for it: she expelled her breath again, wriggled frantically, and resumed her downward plunge.
Finally she came to a jarring halt that would have winded her if she had had any air in her lungs. Holding up the icefire gem and using it as a source of light, she saw that she had landed in a slightly larger drain. Far above, she could make out the noises of a battle. Though it was nothing to her, she nonetheless hoped the polite stranger had made it out of the building in one piece.
Gasping for breath, Tab slithered forward but quickly realised the pipe led to a dead end. Then she heard it. The soft barking cough of a ferra.
Shivering, she scrambled back up the way she had come, scrabbling at the slithery sides of the pipe. Fortunately, there were big patches of furry mould growing everywhere and these gave her some purchase. She made her way back to a fork and without hesitating dived into the other branch.
She plummeted, picking up alarming speed. With all her might she dug her knees into the sides of the pipe, but slowed only a little. Then she saw a light at the end of the tunnel. The pipe levelled out and her headlong plunge slowed to a stop.
Luckily she had landed in the main drain.
A petulant voice said, ‘Well, are you going to sit in there all day? You have no idea of the danger I've been in, waiting out here.’
‘The danger you've been in?’ Tab exclaimed. Muttering, she crawled towards the exit on hands and knees. As a precaution she stuck the gem into the waistband of her undergarments, then found she was stuck fast.
‘Come on,’ said Fontagu. He sounded frightened. The alarms were still ringing up in the Magicians’ Guild.
‘I'm stuck!’ Tab tried to free herself but whatever had snared her wasn't letting go.
‘I can't stay here forever,’ said Fontagu. ‘My legs are cramping. I know, throw me the gem and I'll get help.’
Tab had no intention of parting with the gem until she had her money. It wasn't only Fontagu's frozen-on smile, it was just that she had learned in her short life not to trust anybody.
‘Get me out of here first,’ said Tab.
‘Give me the gem and I'll reward you with a gift more precious than anything,’ said Fontagu. Oddly enough, this time Tab thought he was telling the truth – or as much of it as he could bring himself to tell.
‘You've already offered ten silver moons,’ Tab said, struggling to free herself.
‘Nothing compared to what I'm offering you now,’ said Fontagu, reaching into the pipe as far as he could. Then his eyes widened in fright. His feet were slipping. ‘Hurry!’
Their fingertips touched.
Tab heard the now familiar sound of the ferras. She didn't need to see them to know they were coming for her. With tremendous effort she stretched, feeling her joints crack. She managed to hook her fingers into Fontagu's.
‘Suck in your breath!’ he said.
‘I am!’ Tab wheezed. ‘I think I'm stuck on something!’
Something ripped. Tab slid forward. She collided with Fontagu and both toppled to the ground. Tab cracked her head on the cobblestones of the laneway, dropping the gem.
When she sat up, rubbing her temple, Fontagu was holding the icefire. It blazed its sepulchral light. ‘Mine!’ he crowed.
‘Your cloak would be nice,’ said Tab, trying to cover herself and thankful for the darkness.
Fontagu blinked, then looked away, unclasping his cloak. Tab wrapped herself in it. Despite everything that had happened, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of rancid dripping.
‘I'll have my ten silver moons now,’ she said. ‘You've got what you wanted.’
Fontagu sniffed, his lip curled. ‘Normally, I would suggest a bath for someone in your condition, but as promised, I will give you something of far greater value than that paltry sum.’
‘That paltry sum will do fine, thank you,’ Tab said, holding out a greasy hand.
‘You can't pocket what I offer,’ said Fontagu. He shook his head. ‘Oh no. What I have is priceless. Advice. Leave the city within the hour.
Your life may depend upon it.’
‘Give me what's owing!’ Tab demanded, but Fontagu had turned and bolted from the laneway.
Speechless, Tab stared after him. At the end of the laneway, Fontagu called back over his shoulder. ‘Flee!’ he warned, then hurried from sight.
Tab wanted to scream. She looked down at the useless bracelet he had given her. With a quick tug she yanked it off her wrist and threw it as hard as she could down the alleyway.
In one day she had been kicked out of the orphanage, chased by a troll and promised riches beyond belief. She had robbed the Magicians’ Guild at risk of life and limb and had achieved absolutely nothing for it.
Unbelievable.
‘That's it,’ she said, bridling. ‘I've had enough.’ Tab broke into a run and went after Fontagu.
But when she reached the street, the shyster was nowhere to be seen.
She cursed. How was she to find him in the dark? As though her words had caused it, thick clouds parted and a full moon shone through, bathing the street in silver. That was better, but it still didn't help.
She hurried to the end of the street and looked up and down the cross-junction. Fontagu could have gone either way. It was hopeless.
Hot tears stung her eyes and she sat down on a doorstep. It was still her birthday, but it was the worst birthday she had ever had. She almost managed a smile when she thought back to the morning. There she had been, homeless and destitute… and yet ten times better off than she was now. At least she had had clothes.
Tab sighed. Could things get any worse?
Suddenly she stiffened. She had felt that feathery touch again. Fear flooded her. But before she could react she had another vision, only this one made her feel physically ill: it was as though she was on a storm-tossed ship, but what she saw also made her gasp…
She was high above the Square of Dreams, pitching from side to side in the gusty wind. Even though she was high up, she saw everything on the ground with a startling clarity. And one of the things she saw was Fontagu Wizroth. As she watched, he skirted the night market and slipped into an old abandoned building in one of the alleyways off the Square. A faint hooting, like the noise an owl makes, reached Tab's ears and she saw a horde of magicians sweep across the rooftops of the city, peering down at the streets, their faces stark and angry.
Tab recognised the old slaughter-house Fontagu had entered. It had also had holding pens in years gone by but its owners had fallen on hard times and their business had closed down. A good thing too. Their livestock used to make the streets around there run with dung. She leapt up and ran.
Taking every short cut across the city, she soon stood outside the slaughterhouse. She thought the name very apt, considering what she would like to do to Fontagu when she got her hands on him. She hurried forward but at the next moment stopped in her tracks. What was she doing?
Fontagu couldn't actually be here, could he? She hadn't seen him with her own eyes, she had just – it hit her then: she had seen him with someone else's eyes!
The idea made her shiver. Crazy people thought like that. How could you see with someone else's eyes? Maybe… maybe she was hallucinating; maybe the icefire gem had affected her mind. A deep pang of fear struck her then, but she quickly pushed it aside. She took a deep breath. There was one way to find out if she was mad or not – though a small voice in her head whispered that it might be better to be crazy than to be right – just this once…
No one saw her climb through a broken window.
The inside of the shuttered building was large and spooky. Low-ceilinged, gloomy, criss-crossed with enormous beams blackened with age, the place was a museum of shadows, cobwebs and long-forgotten death, still smelling faintly of stale blood and urine.
Tab stepped on something sharp.
‘Ouch!’ she yelped, hopping on one foot. She peered under her foot and saw a sharp angle of glass protruding from her instep. Gritting her teeth, she pulled it out. Blood flowed, and after that she limped, muttering curses under her breath.
Tab prowled around the enormous space. There were dozens of pens and stalls and even some quite large enclosures hidden away from view. She limped from one opening to another, peering into each, and leaving a speckled trail of blood wherever she went. After ten minutes of this she stopped, inclining her head slightly to listen. She had heard something. A soft murmur. She moved closer, careful to make no noise. Chanting. That's what it was.
Tab crept forward. There. Pulsating light stabbed the ceiling like rays of bluish sunlight. Tab came to a doorway. The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap she could see Fontagu squatting beside his open bag. In front of him was some sort of pedestal. The magicians’ gem was clutched within a metal fist on top, the bronze fingers glowing with each pulse of the icefire.
Tab didn't have a plan. She considered dashing in, knocking Fontagu off his feet, grabbing the gem, and running for it. There were, however, a couple of hitches to this. One was that the gem looked firmly embedded within the metal fist. Another was that her running days were temporarily over, thanks to her injured foot. Pity. Fontagu would have had to pay her a lot more than ten silver moons to get it back.
Silently, she pushed the door open and edged into the room. Fontagu was absorbed by his task and did not look up. Whatever he was up to, it was not going well. He was sweating, and repeating certain parts of the chant.
‘No, no, not like that, you fool!’ he muttered to himself. He started again, reading from a torn scrap of paper, chanting the words, but the sweat kept getting in his eyes and he blinked and wiped his face with his shirt sleeve.
Tab realised he was frightened.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked suddenly.
Fontagu jumped and clutched his chest, as if he were having a heart attack. ‘You? What are you doing here?’ he hissed. ‘Go away.’
‘You owe me ten silver moons.’
Fontagu must have seen she was determined to stay. ‘Oh, very well!’ He reached into his bag, quickly counted out some coins, and threw them at her. Tab scurried about, collecting them. The money paid, she now felt inclined to forgive and forget past grievances; besides, curiosity was burning a hole in her head, as they say in Quentaris.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked again.
‘None of your business,’ said Fontagu. ‘Now, if you must stand around and gawk, kindly do so silently.’
Fontagu took a deep breath, held up the scrap of paper where he could see it, and recommenced his chanting. The words were strange. Tab had heard nothing like them in her life. They sounded old, and filled her with a bleak sadness and a kind of wistfulness for something lost long ago. Then the tone changed, and an ugliness crept into the language. These words made her think of death.
Just then, Fontagu happened to look up and catch her eye. He had nearly finished the chant and had only to apply the sealing phrase, and all would be done. But with Tab's quizzical, innocent look upon him, he suddenly grew terribly nervous, and stuttered.
‘Ab-ab-abathtir – ku-ku-kumeer… ilso ibn ye-ye-yethris… ’
And it was done. But Fontagu didn't appear happy.
‘Something wrong?’ asked Tab, still fascinated by what she knew must be magic.
Fontagu was packing his bag.
‘Wh-what? Don't be ridiculous. Everything went according to plan.’ But he didn't sound convinced and he was now perspiring more than ever.
He gave a sudden yelp as the icefire gem began to glow a deep, ugly, purplish colour and emitted a cascade of golden sparks which burned wherever they landed. Tab dodged a couple.
‘What's happening?’ she asked.
The bronzed fingers unclenched with sharp clinks as though they too had just been burnt.
‘Erm… that's quite normal,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘Then why are you so scared?’
Fontagu gave her a look that could kill, and drew himself up. ‘I, scared? Preposterous!’
‘You're sweating.’
‘I'm merely portraying a role, something you would know nothing about. This particular role requires sweating.’
The icefire had begun to vibrate. Somehow, it seemed to make the whole building tremble. Fontagu swallowed hard.
‘I think it might be time to -’
A blinding flash of light burst from the icefire, searing everything around it. This was followed by a roar so terrible that it made both Tab and Fontagu cover their ears and double over in pain.
‘Run,’ cried Fontagu^* when the noise had abated. ‘Run for your life!’ He didn't wait to see if Tab heeded his advice. He took off, showing a surprising turn of speed in one his age.
Tab stood transfixed. But only for a second. Now the building was definitely shaking, and she feared it might come down on her head at any moment. She half-ran, half-limped after Fontagu. Outside, she staggered as the wind, screaming like a banshee, hit her and nearly threw her back inside the slaughterhouse. Glancing back she saw several of the enormous crossbeams crash down onto the floor.
Almost inconceivably, something told Tab she had to go back upstairs. No matter what, her future depended on the next few minutes. She saw Fontagu then, making his way back to the slaughterhouse. On impulse more than desire, cursing her conscience, she fled back upstairs.
She scrambled over debris and peered into the room where the icefire lay. It seemed harmless enough – discounting the white vapour trails that were even now dissipating like ghosts.
Holding her breath Tab clasped the icefire gem. Against all her expectations it felt deathly cold, as though all the life had drained from it. She bundled it up in her cloak and fled.
Five minutes later Tab was still cursing herself. She had hidden the gem as best she could, but for what purpose? All reason eluded her. But she had no time to ponder her actions. The ground bucked and rocked as she stumbled across it. Above, the sky was darkening rapidly. She watched a squad of magicians wheel and whirl as they fought the sudden gusts of air, then descend quickly to the ground, unable to remain airborne.
Tab fled as fast as her wound allowed. She had no idea what was happening, but as usual her curiosity overcame her concern for her own skin – unlike Fontagu whom she had just evaded and could now see hightailing it for the main gate, presumably intending to get out of Quentaris as quickly as he could.