by Jasmine Walt
Before the Chief Mage could address me again, a hidden door to his right slid open, and a brown wolf shifter with yellow eyes prowled into the room.
“Ah, Fenris.” The Chief Mage turned to greet him. “You are late.”
I narrowed my eyes as the wolf shifter settled next to the Chief Mage and regarded me balefully. I glared back at him, disgust rising up in me at the sight of a shifter, any shifter, relegating himself to little more than a mage’s pet.
“I would not be so quick to judge a book by its cover.”
I blinked, startled as the wolf shifter’s deep voice echoed in my head. I hadn’t actually expected him to speak to me, and what was he talking about anyway? Was he reading my mind somehow?
“Director Chartis,” the Chief Mage said, drawing my attention away from Fenris. “Please read the charges.”
“With pleasure, sir.” Chartis pulled a sheet of paper from the sleeve of his robe, then listed off the same charges that Talcon had read, back at the earlier hearing. But this time, instead of being filled with anger, a kind of hopelessness stole through me. The Chief Mage didn’t look like he had a single ounce of compassion in his magical bones. What made me think that the outcome of this appeal was going to be any different?
“I see.” The Chief Mage drummed his long fingers on the table as he regarded me with those strangely colored eyes. I fought the urge to squirm beneath his piercing gaze, and instead lifted my chin and stared back at him as if I could see into the depths of his stone heart.
Not that I actually could. But as Talcon had so sweetly informed me yesterday, I was good at bluffing.
“Why was Miss Baine not identified as a magic user during the mandatory school testing?” the Chief Mage asked, never taking his eyes from me. “According to her file she attended a state-run educational facility.”
I blinked. The man had read my file? Maybe he really was interested in me. My insides squirmed uncomfortably at the thought.
Chartis cleared his throat. “She did, sir, and the tests were run. As to why they failed, I cannot say, but her status as a magic user is beyond reasonable doubt now. It’s an open-and-shut case.”
Fenris growled at that, and I glanced down at him, curious as he turned his glare on the Director. Was the Chief Mage’s pet shifter actually on my side?
Maybe he’s not so bad after all.
“I’m not quite so eager to rush to judgment,” the Chief Mage said, giving the Director a mildly disapproving frown for his trouble before turning his violet gaze back on me. “What do you have to say about all this, Miss Baine? Why was your magical talent not discovered during your school years?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” I challenged. Truthfully, though, that question had been burning in the back of my mind for many years. I’d never understood how I had managed to slip past the magic testing even though my magical outbursts, when they happened, were so powerful. Quite frankly it was amazing I’d been able to go undetected all these years from everyone. “It’s your test. I don’t know, and don’t care.”
“I’m not entirely certain I believe you, Miss Baine.” The Chief Mage steepled his fingers. He studied me as if I were an interesting puzzle that had been presented to him as a way to pass the time. “And I find that unlike you, I do care. I don’t like the idea of citizens slipping past the test so easily, especially one with a magical talent as strong as yours. I’ll need to study your case further to determine exactly how it was done and to make sure it does not happen again.”
“Study?” I echoed as images of me being strapped to a metal table under a set of bright lights danced through my mind. “As in, like, an experiment?”
To my surprise, the Chief Mage’s lips curved, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Rest assured that no part of your body will be altered. Experimenting on humanoid subjects is a long banned practice, in any case.”
“Right.” I let out a breath. Because I fully expect you to follow the letter of your own laws. However, something about him made me wonder whether or not he really did hold himself to the same standards he was subjecting everyone else to.
“Argon, have her taken to a secure location where she can be kept until I am ready for her,” the Chief Mage ordered the Director. “Also, remove the shackles from her wrists. They won’t be necessary any longer.”
“Sir,” the Director protested, though I wasn’t sure whether he objected to removing my shackles or the fact that the Chief Mage wasn’t calling for my head. But a single frown from the Chief Mage silenced him.
“Very well,” he sighed, coming forward to remove my shackles. I held my wrists out to him with a cheeky grin, and he glared at me as he passed a hand over them, muttering some kind of incantation. The shackles glowed briefly before they dropped from my wrists into his outstretched hand. “Don’t think this is some kind of vacation, Miss Baine. You will be brought to account for your actions soon enough.”
I smirked as he and Elgarion escorted me out of the room to the guards waiting in the hall beyond. Maybe that was true, but I had another day to live, and that was good enough for me. The longer I stayed alive, the greater my chances of escape. And once I was out of this forsaken place, I could solve the poison murders and join the Resistance to overthrow the mages once and for all.
6
I’m not sure why I expected to be led to a five-star chamber instead of a sparse tower room with rough-hewn furniture and iron bars fitted over the single window. Maybe it was because every single room I’d seen in this palace was dripping with wealth and grandeur, and I assumed they could have spared one of those rooms for me. But in any case, there I was, twiddling my thumbs as I sat on my narrow mattress, wondering what I was supposed to do with myself now.
At least I have a nice view, I thought sullenly as I gazed out at the glittering bay. My eyes followed one end of the Firegate Bridge to the other, the metal, which was enchanted to look red, contrasting starkly against the pale blue sky. A mirror to the Bay Bridge on the other side –though that one lacked the gorgeous coloring – it was the pride and joy of Solantha, a feat created through a combination of magic and human engineering, and proof that humans and mages could work together to create things if they really wanted to.
If only mages thought that way all the time, I mused. But they only collaborated with humans when it served their purpose, and from what I’d heard, they’d only collaborated on the bridges because a human engineer had brought up the project and designed the schematics. The long-lived mages were the opposite of innovative, and would have never undertaken such a project without human involvement.
Shaking off my melancholy thoughts, I returned my attention to the beauty of the bridge itself. My eyes traced its sleek line all the way down to the other side, then traveled further along the coast where a small island rested smack dab between the two bridges.
Forget the view, I thought to myself, shuddering a little. At least I’m not over there. That little spot of land was Prison Isle, where Solantha’s convicts were sent to serve their sentences. I’d gone over there once, to question a prisoner regarding a bounty I was chasing, and the memory of the heavy scent of depression combined with filth and squalor suddenly made me appreciate my little room. Sure, it was basically a closet with a bed and a dresser inside it, but it was a hell of a lot safer and cleaner than any of the cells on Prison Isle.
My stomach growled, calling attention to the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything since that sandwich Talcon had given me. I frowned, wondering where I could find the kitchen. Elgarion had informed me that I had free run of the palace and could go into any room that wasn’t locked, but he hadn’t given me a map or explained where anything was. Hell, I didn’t even know where the bathrooms were around here, which would be great to know because I could really use a shower. My hair was getting a little greasy, and I still smelled of alcohol, ash and old sweat.
Stripping off my leather jacket, I left it atop the dresser and wandered down the spiral staircase in my tank to
p and leather pants. It didn’t take me too long to find a servant, who directed me to the bathroom in the East Wing with a beady eye and a warning not to linger too long.
I quickly found out from peeking into a few of the rooms that the East Wing was where all the nice, well-behaved people got to stay, as it was practically brimming with sumptuous bedrooms. Which must have been why Snappy over there had told me to make it fast, because I wasn’t a guest, but a glorified prisoner.
Then again, most of the rooms were empty, so maybe the Chief Mage really did stick his guests in the tower. It would definitely discourage return visitors, and since he didn’t seem to be interested in entertaining, I wouldn’t put it past him.
Thankfully, even reprobates like me were allowed to use the bathrooms, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover a claw-foot tub with running hot water. I hadn’t been sure there would be hot water, since every single source of light I’d seen in the castle was fueled by spelled candles, indicating a lack of electricity. I figured the mages probably just spelled the water hot themselves when they used the facilities. But even though the Chief Mage, like most of his kind, refused to use technology himself, apparently he wasn’t above using his magic to achieve the same effects to provide hot water for everyone. I frowned, wondering whether he’d enchanted the water pipes himself or if it was something the Mage’s Guild maintained. From what little I understood of magic, using it to run hot water through such a huge place was no mean feat.
My grumbling stomach urged me through my bath faster than I liked, and with a fluffy white robe wrapped around my body I headed back up to my tower room to dress. As I was debating whether or not I should wear the same pair of underwear for the third day in a row, it occurred to me that I should look in the dresser. Maybe the last ‘guest’ had left behind something I could wear.
My eyes nearly popped out of my skull when I opened the top drawer. There was a lot more than just someone’s discarded granny panties inside here – the drawer held several pairs of underwear and tops. A chill went through me as I pulled out a pair of basic white panties and held them up to my hips – they were exactly my size. The black tank top I pulled out was the same, as were the stretchy black cotton pants I pulled out of the second drawer.
What the fuck? Had the Chief Mage ordered clothing for me? There was enough here for at least a week’s worth of outfits. The only reason I could fathom as to why these would be here, was because he’d already been planning to keep me here for an extended length of time.
The thought filled me with a combination of hope and apprehension. Hope, because it meant I had at least a week to figure out how to escape this place, and apprehension because I had no idea what the Chief Mage had planned for me. Maybe he was lying, and he really did plan on using me for one of his experiments. I had no trouble envisioning his face hovering over me while I lay on a table, his cold violet eyes observing me clinically as he used his magic to scramble my intestines or something.
The very thought made me lose my appetite.
I should refuse these clothes, I thought, staring down at the underwear in my hands with disgust. Putting them on would be like accepting a gift, and the last thing I wanted was to be beholden to the Chief Mage in any way.
Never be too proud to take advantage of the resources around you. Roanas’s voice echoed in my ears. A silver rope might burn, but you can still use it to climb out of a pit.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, and I dressed hurriedly. If I allowed myself to dwell on my thoughts too long, I would lapse into the grief hovering like a dark cloud above my head, just waiting for the right opportunity to burst. I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of a breakdown, so I pushed down the emotion and did my best not to focus on it.
I found a door that led from the East Wing onto the grounds, but as soon as I tried to step across the threshold an invisible barrier pushed me back. I grit my teeth as I tried again, and then a third time, to no success. Wards. I grimaced, noting the runes carved into the molding. It was unlikely they’d been keyed specifically to me, but clearly they wouldn’t let anyone who wasn’t cleared exit the building, and I was definitely on the Not Authorized to Leave list.
Determined, I searched the palace for other exits, but every time I tried to pass through a door or window the same invisible barrier pushed me back. This explained why none of the mages or servants that passed me in the halls seemed to care what I did or where I went – there was no chance of me escaping unless the Chief Mage decided to change the wards. An hour later, I was tired, pissed and hungry, so I decided to wander down to the kitchen and find some food.
Despite the lack of a map, it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen – all I had to do was follow the scent of baking goods down a set of stairs that led from the foyer to a raised basement.
I moved down a stone corridor and took a right, then smiled as I found myself standing in a large, commercial-style kitchen. The space was pretty open, with all of the wood and coal-powered appliances flush against the far wall, and several large counters placed near the front where the kitchen staff chopped, kneaded and mixed various ingredients. The smell of roasting chicken and baking bread filled my nostrils, and I closed my eyes, inhaling greedily.
When I opened them, a woman in a chef’s hat and coat stood in front of me with a scowl, a wooden spoon propped on her wide hip. “Can I help you?”
“Umm, yeah.” My stomach growled, and I gave her my best puppy dog smile. Which, in retrospect, might not have actually worked since I’m a feline. “I haven’t eaten all day and I’m looking for some food. Do you have anything to spare?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down. “You’re that hybrid, aren’t you? The one Lord Iannis has under observation?”
I grimaced inwardly, both at her use of the word hybrid and the fact that she’d called the Chief Mage Lord. By Magorah, did that man really need a reason for his head to get more inflated? But then again, it was a proper title for him.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said brightly. If I was going to own it, I might as well wear it proudly.
“Fine. Wait here.”
I frowned as the woman disappeared into the pantry, eyeing the freshly baked bread and roasted chicken sitting on the countertop not ten feet from my elbow. Why was she going to the pantry when there was perfectly good food here?
The answer became obvious when she bustled back out into the kitchen again, a hunk of brown bread in one hand and a wedge of cheese in the other. “Here,” she said, thrusting them both at me as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of them.
“Thanks,” I muttered, testing the bread with a squeeze of my fingers. It was rock hard, and the cheese was liberally speckled with mold. “Didn’t realize I had the words ‘garbage can’ tattooed on my forehead.”
The woman completely ignored me, and I sighed, slinking out of the kitchen with my proverbial tail tucked between my legs. It seemed as though the kitchen staff and servants had all been given the ‘hate on sight’ order when told about my presence, and I wondered whether the Chief Mage himself was to blame for that, or one of his lackeys. Magorah knew I’d pissed off practically everyone in the audience chamber, so it could have been any one of them.
I really have to work on my diplomacy skills.
I sat on the floor in the hall with my back against the wall and nibbled on my five-star fare, my ears alert as I listened to the kitchen staff gossip, hoping to catch any clues about the shifter murders. But all they talked about were their families and friends, tomorrow’s menu – which nearly made me cry because it sounded delicious and would probably be off limits to me – and which of the servants were boinking each other. The latter could have been interesting if I were able to use it as blackmail, but I seriously doubted the Chief Mage could be bothered with that kind of thing.
He’s bothering with you, isn’t he? My heart stuttered a little as I remembered the way he’d looked at me, as if he could actually see beyond my tough shell and into the real me
. Sure, the idea scared the shit out of me, but the idea of someone actually knowing my secrets and accepting me instead of writing me off as a failure or a problem was highly appealing.
Then I looked down at what was left of my rock-bread and snorted. The Chief Mage didn’t give a flying fuck about me beyond the puzzle that I presented to him. Clearly my pre-heat hormones were starting to filter in and were addling my brain. I still had several months before I actually went into heat, but my body usually ramped itself up for the occasion, building up so that by the time it came I would be a horny, ravenous monster.
It was one of the only things I hated about being a shifter. The fact that it only happened twice a year was no consolation.
I went back into the kitchen and nagged the cook for some more bread and cheese, and then took my crappy meal back upstairs so I could roam the halls. Eventually I found a deserted storage area full of broken furniture and tools. It didn’t take me long to clear a space. I sat down on the floor and closed my eyes, pulling in slow, deep breaths through my nostrils and exhaling them gently through my mouth. It took longer than usual, but the meditative exercise had the desired effect – my heart rate slowed, my nerves stopped zinging, and the thoughts clamoring in my head gradually faded away, leaving me with a sense of peace.
It was time to train.
I put myself through a set of simple hand-to-hand forms, starting with the basic ones and moving on to lengthier, more complex movements. Doing the forms was as instinctive as breathing – I’d been practicing Kan-Zao, an ancient martial art developed in Garai, ever since Roanas had taken me in. He’d learned the art himself from a Garaian adept while living abroad, and had been a master in his own right.
Finished with the forms, I looked around the storage room for something I could use for weapons practice. My crescent knives or chakrams would have been ideal, but I would settle for any implement that could be fashioned into a staff or blade. If I did find a way to break out, I would likely have to go up against some of the guards, and I needed to be prepared for that.