by M. J. Scott
She glanced around. The second man was lying motionless on the cobblestones, seemingly no threat. So. Cameron and Henri. She turned and ran back to the wrecked carriage, ignoring the pain in her arm. Bending, she stuck her head through the shattered hole in the side of the carriage facing her, peering into the dark. There was no one inside and she pulled back, skirting around behind the carriage. With no knife, she had no way to try and cut the surviving horse free. She had to focus on Cameron and Henri.
Was the sanctii following her? She didn’t look back. As she reached the other side of the carriage, the first thing that caught her eye was someone lying in the street about fifteen feet beyond the carriage itself. Henri. The figure was too short to be Cameron. And it seemed very still. Her footsteps quickened, even though her legs didn’t want to entirely obey her, tremors running through them and the rest of her, the shivers enough to set her teeth chattering.
When she reached Henri, she saw his chest rise and fall. Slow, perhaps, but steady. Unconscious. But alive. There was no blood on his head or anywhere that she could see, though his cheek was scraped and part of his hair soot-blackened. She patted him down quickly, feeling for broken bones the way she’d seen her father do with animals that had fallen or gotten themselves trapped somewhere. All the while her mind was screaming at her to find Cameron. But she couldn’t leave Henri until she knew he wasn’t seriously hurt.
But her hurried inspection found nothing and with a sigh of relief, she heaved herself back upright and turned back to the carriage. At first she didn’t see him, his evening clothes blending into the near-black shadow cast by the ruined carriage. But then her eyes found a paler patch amongst all the black and it resolved, as she squinted, into a head. Cameron’s head. Soot-stained like Henri’s, which was why she hadn’t seen him immediately. He lay on his stomach on the cobbles, his head turned to the side so only half his blackened face was visible.
“Cameron.” It was more breath than word but it was all she could manage against the fear suddenly gripping her throat and heart. “Cameron.”
She had no recollection of moving but suddenly she was by his side. He didn’t move when she called his name or when she started to frantically pat him down as she had Henri. His breathing was slow and, to her eye, not entirely steady. There was a gash on his forehead that had bled everywhere but she had brothers. She knew head wounds were misleading and blood was no longer pouring from it, so it couldn’t be that deep. Of course, his skull could be cracked beneath the cut, but she didn’t have the knowledge to determine if it was or to attempt to heal such an injury.
No other cuts revealed themselves as she continued her inspection, though the sleeve of his jacket was ripped almost clean off. Relief had begun to flood through her until she came to his left foot. It was tangled through the wheel, which was half off the axle, listing at a drunken angle. But not just the wheel, his foot was caught on something else that she couldn’t quite see. She slapped a hand on one of the cobblestones closest to her, calling earthlight, but the glow wasn’t strong enough to help much. Part of the underside of the carriage was buckled and twisted, and she couldn’t make out exactly what had caught Cameron’s foot.
When she wrapped her hands around his shin and tugged gently, Cameron moaned and, worse, the carriage itself moved, creaking alarmingly. Goddess. If she pulled something the wrong way, she might just send the entire weight of the carriage crashing down on him.
He moaned again and she glanced back, but his eyes were still closed. The sensible thing to do would be to wait for help, but what if the men who had attacked them regained their courage and decided to return for a second attempt to take her? She’d be helpless. Cameron and Henri, more so. She’d heard the men say they didn’t need “the other two.” And they had guns. What if they returned and decided to put a bullet through Cameron’s brain?
She scrubbed a hand over her face to brush away the tears that threatened to fall. When she blinked them clear, she saw a pair of thick gray legs beside her and looked up to see the sanctii.
It hadn’t left. Thank the goddess. Sanctii were strong, weren’t they? Could the creature lift and hold the carriage so she could try to release Cameron’s foot? She stared up at the impassive face. “His foot is caught. I can’t pull it free because the carriage is broken. It might fall. Can you lift it?”
The sanctii tilted its head. Then turned to face the carriage. It leaned forward slowly, its body bending gracefully in a way that seemed impossible with the rocklike skin, and inspected the carriage much as Sophie had. When it straightened, it turned back to Sophie.
“Help,” it said, nodding and stretching its massive hand toward her.
She didn’t know what it wanted. Did it need her to stand? The chill radiated off its skin like an icy wind but she forced herself to ignore the sensation. She put her left hand on Cameron’s leg, wanting the comfort of something warm and human, and lifted her hand to place it in the sanctii’s.
There was a sensation rather like a lightning flash or her world being turned briefly inside out and then put back again. Everything whirled around her and she closed her eyes, willing herself not to vomit. When the nauseous sensation faded, she opened them. To see the carriage seemingly suspended in air about six inches off the road.
“What—” She stopped. This wasn’t what she had meant when she asked it to lift the carriage, but what was done was done. And there was no denying the carriage was lifted. She’d never heard of a spell to make something float. She had no idea what the creature had done, but this wasn’t the moment to waste any time asking questions. “Thank you.” She nodded at the sanctii, and then pulled her hand free and crawled back to the wheel.
Cameron’s leg was raised with the rest of the carriage. The angle looked uncomfortable but not dangerous. It seemed the sanctii had been careful to consider the tolerances of the human body when it had decided how high to lift the carriage.
She slapped more of the cobblestones, lighting them up, though the magic seemed to come slowly and made her head spin slightly again. With the carriage raised, she could see more clearly. One of the springs that eased the carriage’s ride was twisted around the axle and Cameron’s foot. If she could unwrap it, then she should be able to ease him free. But the thing was made of coiled steel nearly half an inch thick. She doubted she was strong enough.
Easing back, she turned to look at the sanctii. “Can you help me again? Please?” She patted the cobblestones beside her. “There’s a spring holding his leg and I’m not strong enough to shift it, I think. But you may be. I don’t think it needs magic. Look.” She pointed at the spring. The sanctii knelt next to her and peered down to look through the wheel, curving its upper body into an awkward crouch.
It—no, she, Ikarus had said the sanctii at the ball was female—looked back at Sophie and then reached forward and tapped the carriage. Which rose obediently another half a foot into the air, dragging Cameron’s leg upward.
“Careful,” Sophie said, only stopping herself from trying to tug the creature away with an effort. She had asked her to help. She needed to trust her. The sanctii reached through the wheel with both hands. Metal groaned and Cameron’s leg twisted slightly. Sophie leaned in to support it and as the sanctii moved back, his foot came free of the wheel and she was able to lower it to the ground.
“Thank you,” she said to the sanctii. “Thank you, I—” The carriage suddenly crashed to earth, sending up a cloud of dust and splinters. Sophie heard a creak and looked up to see the wheel toppling toward her, but then the sanctii’s hand was there. She caught the wheel, pushing it back toward the carriage, where it stayed.
Sophie stared at the creature, unable to think for a moment. Indeed, the world began to spin a little again, as though she had reached the limits of her strength. But as she fought the dizziness, she heard the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. Ikarus appeared next to the carriage and the sanctii who had helped her winked out of existence as though she had been a figment of Sophie�
�s imagination.
As Ikarus bellowed and vanished, too, Sophie allowed herself the luxury of giving in to the demands of her body and slid into darkness.
Chapter 19
Sophie startled awake as a hand touched her gently. A voice murmured, “Easy, Lady Scardale. You are in the Academe. You’re safe.”
The soothing voice wasn’t enough to reassure her. She pushed up to a sitting position, scanning the room. It looked like the Academe. In fact, it seemed to be the healing room where Cameron’s ribs had been attended after the ball. The woman standing beside her was the same dark-skinned, gray-eyed earth witch—Rachelle—who had worked on him then.
Cameron. “Where is my husband?” she demanded, suddenly frantic.
“He’s still unconscious,” Rachelle said, stepping back so Sophie could see Cameron lying on another bed like the one she occupied. His face was clean and there was a bandage over the cut on his forehead. “But I have examined him. He does not seem to have any serious injuries. A wrenched knee, which I have attended to, though it will be a little sore for a few days.”
“Then why isn’t he awake?”
Rachelle shrugged. “He has quite a bump on his head. But there is no crack in his skull and no bleeding within that I can sense. In such cases, sleep is the best remedy. It may do more harm than good to try and wake him. If he hasn’t roused by dawn, I will consider it.”
“What time is it now?”
“Just after three,” Henri’s voice said from the other side of her. “You were out for a while yourself, Sophie.”
She twisted to face him. “You’re awake.”
“Yes, fortunately.” He smiled briefly, the expression followed by a wince which caused him to reach up to rub his temples gingerly. He had also been cleaned up, though there were still traces of soot staining the silver of his hair. “All three of us are fortunate, I think. Though I will confess my memory is somewhat hazy. I remember the carriage, then being here. But not what happened in between. Which Rachelle here tells me is common. Do you remember?”
Memories of grasping hands and a gun suddenly flooded through her. Her breath caught and she had to fight to breathe, panic flaring anew.
“Sophie?” Henri said.
She pushed the fear away. “Yes. I remember. Mostly. There was an explosion. The carriage flipped. They tried to take me.”
“Take you?” Henri said, startled. “Do you know where?”
“I assume to the harbor.” She hesitated, but there seemed little chance that she would be returning with the Anglions now. Not after they’d attempted to take her by force. “They spoke Anglish, Maistre.”
Henri nodded, face grim. “I suspected they may have. I will inform Venable du Laq. She is waiting outside to speak to you.”
“Imogene is here?” Sophie shook her head. “I thought . . . .” It was blurred, the memory. If it had been Ikarus at the end, and Imogene and the guard had found them, then why were they here, not at the palace? “She brought us here?”
“I understand we were slightly closer to the Academe than the palace when she found us,” Henri said. “And I suspect that as we were attacked leaving the palace, she was being prudent. It would take quite a force to get to you here. She is rather keen to talk to you and report back to the emperor. Who, I imagine, will then wish to speak to you himself. But I have already told her that none of us is going anywhere until morning at the earliest and that she can convey that to the emperor.”
“And she agreed?”
“It helps that Cameron is still not awake, I think. We will see what happens. She may be able to sway Aristides. She amuses him, I think. And she stands up to him. He likes that.” He looked at her meaningfully. “Though he will pretend he does not. But he has enough sycophants to appreciate those who are more honest.”
That might be true, but she couldn’t picture herself taking Aristides to task any time soon. She would leave that to Imogene. Who had a sanctii at her back to shield her from imperial temper. Maybe the emperor wouldn’t want to annoy Ikarus.
Ikarus. Who had found her at the carriage wreck.
“Ikarus came,” she said slowly. “I remember that. But not Martius?”
“No. Martius wouldn’t be able to. It is one of the limitations of the binding. If a mage bound to a sanctii is unconscious, the sanctii returns to their realm. It means they aren’t bound here while we sleep, which would be boring for them, I’d imagine. But more practically, it also means that you cannot seek to seize a mage’s sanctii by knocking out the mage. Of course, it also means the mage is left unguarded in such circumstances, but those who created the binding spells thought that perhaps a safer option than the alternatives.”
“Alternatives?”
“Someone else seizing the sanctii. Or an enraged sanctii slaughtering people in defense of his unconscious mage. In truth, it isn’t something that has often been tested. At least not in recent times. We are more civilized these days, it seems.” He peered at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she said, which was understating the situation. Her body was weary in a way she hadn’t felt since she’d first arrived in Illvya. A bone-deep kind of tired. She wanted little more than to lay her head back down on the pillow and sleep for a day or three. But that would have to wait. “But otherwise all right, I think.” She looked to Rachelle, who nodded confirmation.
“Rachelle, would you leave us a moment?” Henri said. “Perhaps you could let Venable du Laq know that I will be out to speak to her shortly.”
Rachelle nodded and left, though her expression was somewhat curious. As she pulled the door closed, Henri moved to lock it behind her. Then touched the door itself as though checking the wards.
“Ikarus said there was another sanctii. The same one as the ball?” he asked, turning back to Sophie.
“Yes,” she said. If he already knew, then there was little point denying. “It helped me. It scared off the Anglions. Then helped me free Cameron. His foot was trapped in one of the wheels. I don’t think I could have freed him by myself.” She didn’t mention the floating carriage. That seemed like something best left for another time given Henri already seemed worried about the strange sanctii. “When Ikarus came, it—she. They said she was a she, didn’t they?—left. Perhaps because she knew there was nothing more to do.”
“Perhaps. Though I am more interested in how she knew to come in the first place.”
Sophie shrugged helplessly. “I do not know.”
“Were you working magic?”
She had been. Using blood magic through the bond. It wasn’t something she wanted to explain just now either. “Maybe.” She rubbed her forehead slowly. “It’s all a little jumbled in my memory. All I know is she helped me. I would have probably been on a ship back to Anglion by now without her. And I don’t know what would have happened to you or Cameron.”
“No,” Henri agreed. “But her behavior is unusual. We don’t know what she wants. So I would caution you to be wary if she appears again. You are not a water mage, after all. Sanctii can be dangerous.”
She started to nod, then stopped. “And if I wanted to become a water mage?”
“Does that mean you are staying in Illvya?” Henri asked.
Sophie turned to look at Cameron, lying so still in the bed. “I cannot see how we can return now. But Cameron would have to agree, of course.”
“Of course. Assuming he did, then I would have no issue with you adding water magic to your studies, if you show an aptitude.”
“I could have a sanctii?” she asked. She wasn’t entirely sure where the words had come from. Other than that twice now, a sanctii had stood between either her or Cameron and death. And that she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t feel a lot safer in this very moment, even in the heart of the Academe, if she had one by her side. She shivered again.
Henri pursed his lips. “It takes many years of study to get to that point, Sophie. The bond is a complex thing and a difficult magic. Not all water mages attemp
t it. And, in your case, we would need to study the augmentier that you share with Cameron. To understand what impact another bond might have upon it.
“Multiple bonds can be unpredictable. They are extremely rare for that reason, other than those who take a petty fam and then later a sanctii. That seems safe enough. We think because an animal fam is not adding its own magic to a bond. Just its strength. If you stay, perhaps you could consider putting Tok out of his misery before you worry about a sanctii. Willem had to put the damned bird in a cage to stop him from trying to peck the window above the door there to pieces when they first brought us back, apparently.”
“He didn’t hurt himself, did he?” Sophie said, guilt flooding her.
“The bird is fine. Willem has a few scratches, I believe,” Henri said. “He will survive those. But if you don’t wish to bond with Tok, then I think we will have to send him elsewhere if you stay. He shows no sign of giving up his affection for you.”
“I will think about it,” she said. If she stayed, there seemed little reason to continue to deny the bird. His company had grown on her over the last few weeks.
“Good. Now, I think it would be best if we let Imogene in before she tries to batter down the door in her own manner. Which is likely to be far more effective than Tok’s. And we cannot simply shove an imperial mage in a cage until morning,” Henri said with a grin. “Then you can bathe and change and perhaps get a little sleep. Rachelle will watch over your husband.”
Sophie glanced down at the mention of a bath. Until now she hadn’t paid any attention to her clothes, but her purple gown was torn and stained with soot and dirt and other things she didn’t want to think about. It smelled. The rest of her probably did, too. A bath and a little sleep sounded very tempting.
“Very well,” she agreed. “But I’d like a minute alone with my husband first.”
“He is unconscious,” Henri pointed out.
“Just a minute,” she said.