The White Mists of Power

by Rusch, Kristine Kathryn

  Nica frowned. The old legends seemed too vague to her. “So whoever carries the white mists of power is a member of the royal family.”

  “No.” Xell took her hand. His fingers were cold. “Whoever carries the white mists of power carries with him the power to destroy the entire kingdom.”

  ii

  The night talked to him. Afeno walked near the ports. The river barges cuddled the docks, their lanterns reflecting orange in the water. Since they had come to Coventon, he had taken to walking the dock area at night, seeing the pickpockets at work, eyeing the whores. Byron kept him busy during the day, but at night Afeno had only Colin to talk to, and the boy was too young to have many stories. Afeno missed the night action. His fingers itched with the urge to dip into a pocket and lift a coin. But Byron had warned him against it, saying that too much was at stake. And for the first time in his life, Afeno had money and no need to steal anything.

  He pushed his ways through a crowd huddled outside the tavern at the edge of the docks. Inside, he paid a round for an ale he didn’t drink and sat at a table near the door. He used to dream about sitting in a tavern and not getting thrown out. Now the barkeep took his money and paid him no notice, as if Afeno had as much right as anyone to come into the tavern. That pleased him.

  Three of the whores he had seen outside walked into the tavern and took the table next to his. The acrid odor of sweat mixed with sour perfume wafted over to him. He stuck his nose in his tankard, preferring the bitterness of the ale to the smell of the women.

  The woman next to him, a tall redhead with face powder so thick it caught in the lines on her face, slammed five gold pieces on the table. “I’m buying for everyone!” she said.

  Afeno set his tankard down. Whores never gave anything away.

  “Where’d you get the money, Olu?” the barkeep shouted.

  “Where do I always get the money?” she asked.

  “From Rive. But Rive never buys for anyone.”

  The whore smiled. She was missing her two front teeth. “Not tonight. Tonight he says he’s gonna get rich.”

  The crowd laughed, but the hum of voices dimmed. Everyone was listening. Afeno leaned forward a little on his chair, hoping that he could find a way to share in the profits too.

  “What did he find, a new merchant with a loose purse?”

  “Better than that. He knows where Lafa’s bounty is staying.” The whore pushed the gold pieced forward. “Where’re the drinks?”

  The barkeep began filling mugs of ale. “We all know where the bounty is staying, Olu, but no one can touch him until he’s outside the city.”

  The whore shrugged. “Who’s to say how he gets outside the city.”

  Afeno frowned, unable to follow the conversation. He had been here night after night, and had heard nothing about a bounty. Men around the room stood up and left their ales.

  “Where’re you going?” the whore asked. “I’m buying.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” one of the men said as he pushed his way out the door. “I’m going to give Rive a little help.”

  The whore picked up her gold. “I didn’t tell you this to get you in Rive’s way.”

  “Rive will probably need our help.”

  “Not to pick off a bard,” the whore said.

  Afeno froze. His heart suddenly started beating twice as fast.

  “A bard that is worth three hundred gold pieces dead is going to be hard to kill.”

  Afeno took a deep breath and stood. “Do you mean the bard who just came into town, the tall, thin, dark one with the fancy clothes?”

  Everyone in the bar looked at him. Afeno thought a few people recognized him, but he wasn’t sure. The barkeep had stopped pouring the ales. He said, gruffly, “That’s the one.”

  Someone wanted Byron bad to place a bounty on him. Afeno was shaking. “I’m down from Dakin’s lands. Dakin is paying five hundred gold pieces for him alive.”

  “Where did you hear that, boy?” the barkeep asked.

  “Nadaluci. It’s all over up there.”

  The whore stuck her money in her pocket. The men gathered near the door, and the conversations began low, people trying to figure how to get both rewards. Afeno left his ale and slid past the bodies toward the door. He wanted to leave, but most of his money was at the inn with Byron. He owed it to Byron to tell him. But he didn’t want to go back. With this many people after him, Byron had no chance of survival. And neither did his companions.

  iii

  The guild shop was dark except for the embers glowing in the hearth. Nica’s hands shook as she laced her cape. She hadn’t left the shop since she had become a magician. Xell insisted on total seclusion until she learned her craft well enough to survive on her own.

  She had waited until Xell was sleeping before sneaking down the stairs. She would talk to Byron briefly, thank him, let him know that she was safe, and then she would return. Xell wouldn’t know until morning, and by then he would be able to do nothing.

  A small trickle of fear ran down her back. Her training was all she had, especially now that Rury was dead. But sometimes Xell exaggerated threats. Perhaps he had exaggerated this one.

  She crossed her arms before her face, held her breath, and clenched her fists. Her chants were soft. She felt deep relief as her luck web hugged her.

  When she opened her eyes and let her arms drop, she heard someone cough. She turned and saw Xell behind her. He was wearing his magician robes. “I’m coming with you,” he said.

  “I want to do this alone.”

  Xell shook his head. “Lord Lafa put a price on the bard’s head. Seeing him alone could be too dangerous for you.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “Perhaps. But I doubt that you can protect the bard. If something happens, you’ll need my help.”

  Nica swallowed. She knew how people reacted to the offer of money, especially people as poor as those who worked the docks in Coventon. Her magic was untested outside the shop, and yet she was a better magician than Seymour. He would be no help if something happened. “All right,” she said.

  Xell did not smile. He took her arm, then picked up his staff. Another chill tickled her spine. Xell only used his staff for serious magic.

  They stepped out of the shop. The night was cold, and the river smelled of fish. No one was on the streets and yet up ahead, Nica could hear shouts and cries. She wanted to walk faster, but Xell held her back. He led her through two side streets and around a corner.

  And then she saw the crowd. They huddled around an inn. They were carrying torches that illuminated the entire road. Most of the crowd were men, large men, dock handlers and toughs, but a few women stood inside the crowd. They seemed to be waiting. A man leaned out a window. In the flickering light, Nica recognized Seymour’s face. He raised his hands and Xell groaned.

  “He’s got the wrong position!”

  Xell raised his staff. The strands of Nica’s luck web shimmered as Xell gathered his around himself. He started to chant, but too late. The inn exploded, sending plumes of flame into the sky.

  iv

  Afeno heard the explosion echo like a crack throughout the city. He was still a mile from the inn. He ran, passing empty docks and emptier streets. He thought he heard shouts up ahead, and he saw flames splash against the sky. Then the fires disappeared and the shouts grew dim. He ran faster, his breathing so loud that he could barely hear his feet pound against the dirt.

  When he reached the inn, the street was dark. Small fires burned on the building’s face, and the wood was scorched. A large hole gaped in place of the window to Byron’s room. The area smelled of sulfur and charred wood.

  Afeno ran across the street and through the inn’s open door. No one was in the tavern. No one appeared to be in the inn at all. He took the stairs two at a time, rounded the corner, and entered the dark hallway.

  The sulfur smell was stronger here, mixed with something else, something rancid. The door to Byron’s room stood open, and a t
hin trickle of light came from inside.

  Afeno stepped through the door. Tiny flames burned along the inside of the wall. The pallets were covered with blood. Byron’s sword was stuck in the floor at an odd angle. A body lay in the hole where the window used to be. Afeno’s heartbeat moved into his throat.

  He hurried to the hole and grabbed the body. The rancid smell came from it. Afeno finally recognized it: burned flesh. He pulled the body out of the hole. It was Seymour. His hands and arms were all burns. As Afeno laid him back on the floor, Seymour moaned.

  “Seymour!”

  Seymour moaned again. His eyelids fluttered. Afeno shook him a little. “What happened?”

  Seymour licked his lips and squinted. “Afeno?”

  “What happened?”

  Tears trickled from the corners of Seymour’s eyes, but his voice didn’t waver. “Did you find Byron?”

  “No. Where is he?”

  “They took him. I didn’t see–”

  “Who?”

  “The innkeeper. Some beggars. A hundred people. Byron and Colin fought–” Seymour coughed. He wheezed for a moment, then took in some air. “I tried a new spell, but it exploded on me, and I couldn’t help–”

  “You need an herb witch,” Afeno said. He had to get out of there, out of the stink. He beat the remaining flames out with a blanket. “I’ll be back with an herb witch. Wait here.”

  “But Byron–”

  “Ten minutes won’t help or hurt Byron either way, but it’ll help you. Wait here.”

  “All right.” Seymour closed his eyes. Afeno ran past the sword, down the stairs, and into the street. The silence was eerie. He could see no one. He hurried through the side streets until he found a sign for an herb witch. He pounded on the door, but heard no answer.

  His breath was coming rapidly. Seymour would die without help, and so would Byron. Afeno couldn’t spend the entire night looking for an herb witch. He pounded again, louder, and this time the door opened.

  The woman was small, elderly, and very sleepy. “I’ll pay you two gold pieces,” Afeno said. “I have a burned man back at the inn.”

  The woman smoothed her hair, turned, and grabbed a pouch. “Take me there,” she said.

  Afeno led her back on the path he had come. She moved too slowly for him; he wanted to pick her up and carry her. Once he reached the inn, he took her upstairs, sneezing at the smell. She knelt beside Seymour and took one of his hands. “This is bad. Very bad.”

  “Can you help him?”

  “I can ease his pain. It’ll take one with more talent than I to help him.”

  “Do what you can,” Afeno said. He couldn’t stay in the room. He had to find Byron. Afeno ran down the stairs and into the street. He had originally come from the north and seen nothing, and had found the herb witch to the west and seen nothing. If the crowd had taken him, they had taken him south because east would have meant going around the inn and into a residential district. South led out of town the quickest.

  Afeno darted down the nearest side street and saw torches flickering in front of taverns. The taverns were empty, though, and he saw no one else. A half mile down the road, his foot slipped. He looked down and saw a pool of blood the size of the one Dakin’s retainer had left in Nadaluci. He swallowed and kept moving. Farther on, he saw a bloody handprint beneath one of the torches on the side of a tavern, and another smudge on a wood post. Then, at the end of the street near the city wall, he saw his own sword resting upright in the dirt.

  He walked to the sword slowly. The hilt and the blade were covered with blood. A bloodstained white shirt rested under the sword point. Byron’s shirt. Afeno tossed the sword aside and picked up the shirt. The blood was sticky, half dry. He had probably been dead for a couple of hours.

  Afeno swallowed, feeling his stomach twist. Byron was probably dead, but Afeno had to find out for sure. He walked through the city gate, into the darkness.

  v

  Nica shielded her eyes from the flames’ glare. She took a step backwards, squinted, and saw Byron run out of the burning building, followed by a boy. They faced the crowd for a moment, then the crowd surged forward. She had to do something. She breathed into her luck web, felt its strength.

  “Let me,” Xell said.

  “No. I owe him.”

  “You lack the powers, Nica.”

  “Then share yours with me,” she said. She raised her hands, drawing the luck into her fingers. Her power grew stronger, stronger, until it radiated out her hands. She felt another presence, a luck web even stronger, more radiant than her own. She chanted a spell she had only read, then opened her eyes in time to see Byron and the boy disappear.

  The crowd lurched forward, not believing the two disappeared. “This,” Xell said, and held his staff aloft. Nica grasped the end of the staff, and knew there was another step to the spell. Power jutted forward on a half-lit arc, stopping in the center of the crowd and forming into the Byron who had just vanished. Ropes hung loosely from his wrists and his shirt was torn and bloody.

  Someone screamed and the crowd surged forward. The illusion ran, and someone grabbed his white shirt, yanking him backward. A heavyset man stuck a dagger in the fake bard’s back.

  “Stop that!” a woman yelled. “You’re to kill him outside the city!”

  The bard stumbled forward, blood trailing from his back. The crowd followed. Nica watched until they disappeared down a side street. She relaxed her grip on the staff and Xell lowered it, slowly. She cast about in her mind until she found the warmth of Byron and the boy. She raised her arms before her face, chanted for her luck web, to make it stronger, but her reserves were gone. With a soft whisper she revered the invisibility spell, but when she blinked her eyes, she saw nothing.

  “I can’t reverse it,” she said to Xell.

  “It’ll fade in a few hours,” he said. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  “I want to see if he’s all right.” She ran to the warm place, the place her mind told her housed the bard and the boy. They were a few yards from the inn. She stopped before them, found Byron’s shoulder, traced his arm down to his hand, and untied his wrists. Then she stepped away, suddenly afraid to talk to him.

  Byron grabbed her hand. Her luck web snapped. Pain as sharp as a thousand glass shards ran through her.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  Nica was trembling. Slowly she pushed back her hood.

  “Nica!” The pleasure in his voice made her flush.

  “The–the invisibility will last another half day. I’m sorry Byron, but my luck has left me.” She wished that she could see his face.

  “You did this?”

  “I’m in training. I’m not supposed to see anyone. Please. I should go.” She tried to pull her hand away from him, but he held tightly.

  “What were you doing here?”

  “I heard you were here. I came to thank you.”

  “I should thank you.” His voice was soft.

  “We’re even now.” Nica pulled her hand free. “You’re all right?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  “The boy’s beside you.”

  “Nica–”

  “When I’m done training, Byron, I’ll find you.” She backed away, then ran down the road. Her body didn’t hurt, but she felt pain. He had hurt her, hurt her magic somehow. And Xell had said that seeing someone could destroy her magic forever.

  She ran all the way to the guild shop, afraid that the door would not open for her now that her luck web was gone. Xell was waiting outside, holding his staff beside him like a shepherd. He opened the door for her and she went inside.

  He had lit candles on all the shelves, just as he done the night she first arrived. The light reflecting off the crystals blinded her, and she fell to the floor.

  “You did very well,” Xell said. “Your magic will be strong and forceful someday.”

  “My web snapped.”

  He crouched down beside her and lifted her against him. His touch felt sof
t, soothing. She closed her eyes and felt him take each strand of her luck web, stitch it together with his own threads, and replace it around her. She leaned against him and he stroked her hair. “You can’t go out again,” he said. “I can only repair your luck web once.”

  She moved away. The web was there, weaker than it had been before but there. She wanted to touch it, to make it stronger, but she knew she dared not.

  “Make it disappear,” Xell said, “and when it returns, it will be stronger.”

  Nica wrapped her arms around herself and chanted the web away. But she didn’t move after it disappeared. Instead she replayed the pleasure in Byron’s voice before she stored the memory in her heart.

  Milord:

  This bard is more than your portrayed him to be. A great wizard or an Enos or perhaps even an Old One watches over him. Never in my travels have I had such a night as this.

  I joined Lafa’s bounty hunters on a raid against the bard. After dark, we burst into his room in the inn. He was there, with the magician and one of the boys. Armed with only a sword–no shield or other protection–he held six of us off. His young friend fought and wounded another of the group. Finally, I managed to break past the bard’s sword and pinned him against the wall. The entire room exploded. The bard and the boy broke free. The magician was wounded, near dead, but he managed to make them leave. They ran down the stairs and out the door. We followed.