“Have you been working long at the Mekteb?” he asks as we leave the garden. We cross a wide cobbled walk and step under an arcade. The mosaic beneath this arcade is all blues and greens, sea creatures twining along the edges. At the center swim water maidens, their long hair spread about them.
“Just started,” I mutter, keeping my head bent. He’s probably taken a good look at my face by now, but the less he remembers, the better. In fact, the more I sound like an embarrassed maidservant, the better.
“Ah,” he says knowingly. “That explains why you’re wearing someone else’s clothes.”
I stumble slightly. His hand whips out, steadying me. I go still at his touch.
“And why you’re afraid of me.”
I pull my arm free, glaring straight ahead at the doors of the hall. “I’m not afraid.”
“She has a voice,” he says, eyes twinkling. I feel myself flushing and have to purse my lips from replying. I’m supposed to be a no-one. The less I give him, the better.
“We don’t bite, you know,” he adds.
No, I don’t know, I think, but I don’t say it. He thinks me harmless, and I want him to forget me as soon as possible.
“I must go. I’m late,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady.
“Then go.” He dips his head and takes his leave, grinning.
I roam the building until I find a young woman polishing the second floor stair railing. She’s dressed in the same garb I am, though the ends of her sleeves have two embroidered diamonds, as white as her selvar.
“Oh, hello,” I say with undisguised relief. “Can you help me? I’m new and I’m supposed to help with the cleaning, but I’ve gotten turned around.”
“You’re supposed to be cleaning here?” Frown lines crease her forehead.
“I think so,” I say with a grin and shrug. “Yesterday was my first day, and everything’s a bit of a jumble. Can I help you?”
The girl brightens, any concern for whether I’m in the right place evaporating. “Sure. I’m Esra.”
“Rehan,” I reply, happily stealing the name of Jabir’s helper.
Esra takes me to a supply closet, and is only slightly surprised when I ask if I can leave my bundle there while I clean. “I don’t have a room yet,” I explain. “Once the Festival is over they’ll find me a place.”
“Oh yes,” she says knowingly. “There are always a few servants who miss work and lose their positions. You’ll have a room within a couple days.”
She outfits me with a bucket and brush, and sets me to scrubbing stairs. I start near her, and within a few minutes I have her chatting about working at the Mekteb — and then about the shocking events of the day, and what she found out from her friends a little while ago.
“A rogue mage, can you believe it? Must have been a mage, rather than a wild Promise, to have everyone in such an uproar. Walked right in here and healed a high mage and then walked right back out.” She sits back on her heels and shakes her head. “The Council wanted to shut down the whole campus, but Headmistress Jeweltongue wouldn’t have it.”
“Why not?” I ask curiously.
“Because it’s the Council,” Esra mutters under her breath. I ease back on my heels as well, waiting expectantly. “They’ve been causing trouble all year. Anyhow, Jeweltongue said the mage was probably long gone, and all a lockdown would do is strand most of the students outside the walls, and she couldn’t do that. She’s posted extra guards and mages at all the entrances instead.”
“So they’re still letting people out?”
“Last I heard.” Esra flexes her fingers, then picks up her brush again. “Least ways, I don’t intend to miss the Festival over some mage who goes about unexpectedly healing people. There’s much worse in the world, you know.”
I have to agree with that. “Are there other ways out?”
She sighs. “Not with all the trouble we’ve had today. But they’ll get an earful from me if they don’t let us out!”
By the time we reach the third floor, my arms ache, my fingers feel like they’re going to fall off, and we have finally reached what I came here for.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing my brush at the single arched doorway at the top of the stairs, the wooden door a work of wonder, carved with flowers and trees, animals of all sorts peeking out from behind them. I blink as a monkey drops down from the branches of a tree, sending up a flurry of butterflies that come to rest on the leaves carved across the top of the door.
“First Mage Talon’s rooms,” Esra says. “She had that done her first week here.”
There is no way I would dare try to enter on my own. As much as I need to get in, as little time as I have, I can’t risk doing something stupid and getting caught. It’s likely warded against all attempts at entry, both magical and mundane. I’ll have to find another way in.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, and bend down to scrub the next stair. “I bet she has some amazing things. Wish I could clean in there.”
Esra laughs in agreement. “She’s very particular. Only Housekeeper Yilmaz is allowed to clean her rooms. And they’re always locked when she’s not in, so it’s not like we can just peek in.”
I make a face. “Are all the mages that picky? I can’t imagine they each have a housekeeper assigned.”
“No, just First Mage Talon and Arch Mage Blackflame.”
My fingers convulse on the scrubbing brush. “Blackflame?” I echo. “I’ve heard of him.”
“Haven’t we all,” she agrees. “He’s down a floor. He won’t let anyone into his rooms, though. Brought a servant with him to do his cleaning. And his own source slave.”
I flinch.
She nods, though she can’t know what I’m thinking. “It makes the apprentices really nervous to see source slaves walking around. Although, for the most part, this one stays in his rooms.”
“What do they look like?” I ask, against my better judgement. “What’s so different about them?”
“There’s something about their eyes,” Esra whispers. “And of course they have those tattoos on their arms, the ones that bind them.”
“What about their eyes?” I press. I already know about the ink spells used to bind source slaves’ magic so that they can only funnel it to their masters. Stormwind made sure I understood that much. But she never mentioned anything about eyes.
“I don’t know how to describe it. You’ll see,” Esra says with a slight shudder.
I nod, but I hope I won’t. I don’t want to know what my eyes might look like if I get caught.
Once we finish, we stow away our cleaning supplies in the large basement closet and I collect my skirt-wrapped bundle.
“Are you going out to the Festival?” Esra asks as she stretches her back, hands on her hips.
“Not tonight.” There is no way I’d risk going through even the servants’ gate today, no matter how helpful it might be to speak with the Degaths. At her look of disbelief, I add, “I promised my uncle I’d go straight back to his house. He might let me go out with my cousins a bit.”
“Might?”
I shrug. But if I want Esra’s help getting out at some point, now is the time to ask for it. “I’m hoping to go out tomorrow night anyhow. I, uh…”
“Yes?” She looks at me expectantly.
I duck my head. “I have a friend I was hoping to meet.”
Esra snorts with laughter. “Let me guess, your uncle has no idea?”
“Well, he’s very protective,” I say, figuring that if I did have an uncle out there, he would not at all be pleased with what I’m up to. “But if I can get a place to stay here tomorrow night, then he won’t have to worry about it.”
She glances at my pack, then turns toward the hall. I fall into step with her. “Well, if you still don’t have a room tomorrow, maybe you can share mine. I’ll talk to the girls I room with.”
“Really?”
She meets my surprise with an open smile. “Yeah.”
Guilt twists in my
gut at how I’m using her, how easy it would be to take further advantage of her friendship. I hope she never finds out who I really am. “Thanks,” I say with a strained smile. “Do you start here first thing in the morning?”
She nods. “All day, every day. I’ll be here at first bell. What about you? Are you split between buildings?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I’ll find out in the morning.” I grin.
“Well, I hope you’re here. It will be a huge help.”
“What about Housekeeper Yilmaz?” I ask. “I thought you said she cleans too?”
“Oh no! She only cleans First Mage Talon’s rooms. Housekeepers hardly ever clean. They keep order, make sure everything gets done. They’re the ones who handle the mages directly most of the time. Yilmaz is in charge of three buildings.”
Which might explain why I haven’t met her yet. “Three!”
“Yes— she has Susulu, Äbädä, and Neme.”
I nod, filing away the names, though I doubt I’ll need them. “Do housekeepers live in the servants’ quarters as well?”
She raises her brows. “Not in a hundred years. Housekeepers can choose to live in the city, or in one of the buildings they’re assigned to. Yilmaz has her own rooms downstairs — two rooms!” Esra pauses at the side door leading out to a path between the buildings. “One day, I’m going to have the same thing.”
“I think you will.” I really hope she does.
“I definitely will,” she says. “Coming?”
“Actually, I think I’d better go back and, um, wash up,” I say with a touch of awkwardness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She grins, departing with a cheery wave.
I head down to the basement. The supply closet here is larger than the ones located on each floor, and has a small washroom next to it for servants. I wash up first, then slip into the supply closet, pulling the door shut behind me. Somewhere on this floor are Yilmaz’s rooms, and I don’t want to accidentally run into her quite yet. Nor do I want my growling stomach to give me away at the wrong time. I slip out my glowstone, set it on a shelf, and dig out the last of the cheese I’d packed. It’s hard and salty, the flavor stronger than I like, but I have to eat something and it won’t keep much longer.
As I eat, I consider what I need to do this evening. My best hope of getting the key to Stormwind’s shackles is tomorrow morning, using Yilmaz to get into Talon’s rooms. But I also need to learn all I can about where Stormwind is being held, which means I need to visit Shahmaran Hall right now — as a servant, before anyone realizes that there shouldn’t be any servants walking around anymore.
I pop the last of the cheese into my mouth, and slip the glowstone into my pocket. A brief listen at the door tells me the coast is clear. Letting myself out, I make for the stairs.
The campus is calm and quiet now, the sun dipping past the roofs of the buildings. It’s difficult to believe that it was only this morning that I stepped into Stonefall’s rooms. There are still guards everywhere, but they aren’t patrolling anymore. Instead, they’re stationed at different points, keeping watch. They no longer expect to catch their rogue sneaking about, it seems.
I walk briskly along the arcades, nodding to the guards I pass as I reach them, and otherwise keeping my gaze decidedly elsewhere. I check the tiles beneath my feet at each building. I don’t exactly know what Shahmaran, the snake queen, looks like, but I expect I’ll recognize her when I see her.
I reach the end of the walk without seeing anything likely, and cross to the two buildings that run along the bottom of the garden. Lots of strange people and animals appear in the floor tiles, but no snakes and no queens. I start back up the other side, walking toward the Grand Hall now, parallel to where I’d come down, hoping to God the guards haven’t noticed my circuit and aren’t wondering what I’m doing.
Shahmaran turns out to be the building directly across the gardens from Susulu Hall, and two buildings over from where Stonefall lives in White Raven Hall.
When I reach the door, the nearest guard tilts his head, studying me. He looks vaguely familiar.
“Took the long way around, eh?” the other guard says.
“I … got a bit turned around,” I admit. “I’m new and, um, I couldn’t remember which one was Shahmaran,” I gesture to the tiled image of a beautiful woman with a crown on her head, and, from the waist down, a coiling serpent tail.
I glance back at the guards, and realize where I know the first guard from. “Also, there were some boys in the garden earlier today who played a trick on me. I didn’t really want to chance going through there again.”
The guard nods, a single decisive dip of his head. “Saw that. It doesn’t happen often, as I understand it. Even when we’re not around, the school won’t stand for it. The boys have been reported and the Mekteb’s Headmistress will deal with them.” He offers a friendly smile. “Well, go on then. You’ll want to finish up your work so you can get to the Festival.”
I grin with relief. “Thank you.”
The building lies mostly empty, the faint snatches of a conversation drifting down the hall to me. The main doors open to the center of the building, with a wide hall extending out to the left and the right. There are stairs at both ends, though only the one to my right appears to go down to the basement. I move away from the voices, heading to the stairs I’ll need. The doors are mostly open, giving me quick peeks at the classrooms within — bright, cheerful spaces, each with a great central oval table surrounded by chairs, the walls lined with shelves filled with books, and jars, and even what might be charms on display.
At the end of the hall I find a slimmer wooden door, and with a rush of relief I open it to find a supply closet. I stow away my pack and arm myself with a bucket of soapy water, a scrubbing brush, and a drying cloth.
I walk my bucket of soapy water down every hall, working my way up. On the second floor, a long stretch of unbroken wall has been decorated with a mosaic map of the Eleven Kingdoms. I pause to study it, using the edge of my drying cloth to shine a few tiles as I look it over. The map is not very detailed — it’s hard to capture fine detail with mosaic. But to my right lie the eastern Kingdoms, each with its name, ruler, and the arch mage that serves it painted on in smooth black strokes. In the middle, the desert stretches long and golden, the Burnt Lands in their midst a darker brown without any label.
I inch along, trailing my cloth over the mosaic, reading the names of the various arch mages, the lands they serve. The ink must be spelled to change as the appointments and rulers change, for not one of them appears to be inaccurate. I pause, tilt my head, for there is Karolene to the south with its sprinkling of smaller islands in the ocean. It looks small, surprisingly tiny compared to the great Kingdoms of the mainlands arcing down around it. Beside the central island is written, “Karolene, Regent Siwatu, Arch Mage Blackflame.”
My hand tightens into a fist around the cloth. Regent? Is the sultan dead? And what about his crown prince? There was one — I thought there was one, at least.
I push away from the wall, tamping down on my agitation. I know so little. I barely know who I was back then. What can I possibly know of the political situation? Still, that line of writing, those lines together, strike me as wrong.
Faintly, I hear the tap of feet on the stairs behind me. I make myself walk on. Up the opposite stairs, the third floor lies empty and silent, the doors closed. I walk it anyway, find nothing of note. I take the stairs up to the roof. The door at the top remains unlocked, and from the benches and potted plants on the rooftop, it’s clear that the space is often used. From here, the many domes of the Great Hall look vast and beautiful, glittering in the late afternoon light. To their left, I can see past the far boundary walls to the city itself, the buildings crowded together but still well cared for here. To my right, the rest of the campus stretches out, the myriad rooftops cutting each other off from sight.
I walk the rooftop garden slowly, keeping away from the edge so I’m not spotted from belo
w. Freeing Stormwind and then bolting for an exit won’t work — not with the number of guards already at the gates and the likelihood that a magical alarm will alert them before we ever reach them. A rooftop escape, I decide, chewing at my lip. It will have to be the roof. After all, no one ever looks up.
Getting her off the roof will be a trick. I haven’t learned any transformation spells as yet, nor can Stormwind turn herself into a sparrow and flit away unobserved — not with a binding spell on her. I’ll need a way to lift her to safety somehow. Looking out over the rooftop, I know suddenly and clearly exactly what I can do. I just don’t want to do it.
Every step of this plan seems to steal away a little bit more of what future I have left to me.
I rub my face, move back to look at the rooftop door. Before I worry about leaving the rooftop, I’ll need to get Stormwind here in the first place. I run my fingers over the lock, the doorframe. I’d prefer to have a key to it, or better yet, charm it so that it won’t lock properly. But I don’t dare use my magic so flagrantly — at least, not until I’m on the run and don’t care anymore. Not the best of plans, to say the least. If I can find a skeleton key, I’ll most certainly steal it.
But this may be my only opportunity to adjust the lock. I pull the door shut and squat beside it in the semidarkness of the stairwell. Resting my hand against it, I study it with my mage sight.
I find two sigils, central points of magic. One, at the center of the door itself, seems to be a protection against breakage and use of force. It’s simply cast, as though the mage who set it never imagined anyone would want to remove it. I place my palm over it, take a deep breath, and gently channel the magic out of it, draining it of its power. It’s so small, it flickers out without mishap. If I could have used such a trick with Stormwind’s trunk, I would have.
The sigil on the lock, however, is designed to protect, and will activate other spells if its magic is interrupted. It’s dormant right now, but the more I assess it, the more it worries me. It’s designed to seal the door shut through magic and the physical lock mechanism itself. It’s also connected to the protective sigils glimmering on the walls. As I reach out with my magical senses, I realize they’re interwoven with larger spells that could very well cloak the entire building and connect to a network that covers the entire campus.
Memories of Ash (The Sunbolt Chronicles Book 2) Page 15