A Ragged Magic

by Lindsey S. Johnson

  I push the shorter one to sitting on an empty cot. His cohort follows suit. I try not to glare.

  “A spell, you say,” Julianna murmurs.

  Hugh has not told her, I realize. I wish she could speak in minds. I try to hurry Hugh along. Looking around for help, I see Connor entering the hall.

  He glances up, his shirt crooked and his hair in a tangle. I wave to get his attention. He takes one look at our tableau and strides over to us.

  “How does the archbishop come to be here?” His voice sounds mild, but his eyes bore into Montmoore as though pressing for confessions.

  “Your gate guards were good enough to let me in, once I explained I needed the — the good offices of our princess,” Montmoore says, his teeth gritted in pain. “Please, Highness. Time is running out for us all. You should gather all your wit—, your spell workers and try to stop this spell.”

  Julianna frowns at him fiercely. “This foul spell you speak of, that Bishop Gantry started. This is the cause of the Wasting?”

  Montmoore winces — in pain, maybe. Maybe embarrassment. “Yes.”

  I send all of this to Hugh, to Linnet, goad them to hurry.

  “And where is Bishop Gantry?” Julianna asks.

  “I wish I knew.” Montmoore glares at the ceiling.

  I hear running, turn to see Hugh and Linnet rushing in. I can feel a vision trying to break in, trying to wash over me. The magic pulls, and I push at it; not now, not in front of this man. I See a house near the docks, shadows, Gantry’s face. I shove it all away as I feel a hand tug at my sleeve, grab my arm. Power slips out of me like a sip of water, another drain.

  “You. You’re the one,” Montmoore says, as I yank free and back away. “I can feel your power now. Where did you get it?” He gasps.

  “Your Grace, you are raving,” Hugh says, pushing me further away as he steps up. “And as for a, what did you call it? A foul spell? Why is it you haven’t stopped this spell yourself?”

  My lungs cramping, I look around at everyone staring at us, and realize all our secrets are about to be revealed to whomever is nearby.

  Asa calmly walks toward us from across the hall. Connor, Hugh, and Julianna stare at Montmoore, waiting for an answer. Linnet stares at me.

  Montmoore glares at Hugh. “I need more power to unravel it. Nearly everyone at the Inquisitor’s Building has come down sick — the Healers especially. I am surprised you have been spared, your Highness.”

  He spits, grimaces, and curls over on his side, panting. Sweat dampens his robes. “No one has the magic to spare to stop this out-of-control spell. Except you, as long as you have that —” he gestures to me.

  I hunch away from his scowl.

  “She was here before, I felt it — at the party.” His breath hisses between his teeth. “Use that power. Dismantle the spell. The sickness will stop.”

  “Unless it’s powered by demons,” Hugh says.

  Julianna gasps, and Connor chokes back a curse.

  I can hear the people around us murmuring in fear. Connor turns and looks at me. I’m shaking, fighting, trying to force the words out, but I still can’t break this spell.

  “Demon spells are very dangerous,” Asa says from behind me, and it is all I can do not to scream, although I knew she was coming.

  Linnet takes my hand and squeezes. I feel a little more power bleed off, but I’m grateful now, it is overwhelming me.

  “Demon taint,” Asa says, “is something the empire of Indranah takes very seriously, indeed.”

  “Bishop Gantry has fled,” Montmoore gasps out. “The kirche will condemn him as a heretic for this spell. You must stop it.”

  “Gantry is your creature,” Connor leans in to murmur, his voice still deadly calm. “Any spells he did or did not cast were at your behest, surely.”

  Montmoore swipes his arm out, to hit Connor, or to wave away such allegations.

  Connor deftly avoids it.

  “Will you stop this spell?” Montmoore says. “Princess, it will kill all your people. You must stop it.” His voice turns thready; he will likely pass out soon. Some people do, when the cramping gets strongest.

  “Is the spell a demon spell, that sickens everyone?” Julianna’s voice could cut glass.

  Montmoore does not answer.

  Asa takes my arm and turns me to face her. Draining, again. This is not a good sign. “What is he talking about — oh. I see. That is quite something, isn’t it?”

  I pull away from her, too, but her gaze is less kind than scrutinizing anymore. “Not scars from a fire,” she whispers. She doesn’t seem surprised. “Perhaps we should move this discussion elsewhere,” she says in a more normal voice.

  Connor nods to us all, gestures toward the hall. “The lesser hall will suit,” he says. He walks a little ways away to have a word with a guard, his face closed and solemn. I wait for him, and Asa waits for me, and Hugh and Julianna wait for all of us. Linnet keeps hold of my hand.

  “What are you going to do?” she whispers to me.

  I shrug, magic burning in my veins, still pumping through me from the vision I don’t want. My fear is a cold lump in my stomach.

  Connor speaks to Bhanu next, and then turns to us. “After you,” he says to Asa, but it is Julianna who leads us all to the room. She walks as though her feet hurt.

  ～

  When we enter the room, Julianna sinks into a chair at the table with a faint groan and leans back, her arms around her belly. Hugh sits on the table, runs his hands through his hair.

  “Rhia Wolff fitzWellan,” Asa starts, walking toward me, but Connor holds up a hand.

  “Wait. How are you sure of demons?” he asks Hugh.

  “Context,” Hugh says. He wipes at his forehead, tugs at his hair. “It fits, doesn’t it? The strange runes we can’t read, the power, the death spells, Rhia and Orrin. He can call a lot of power, and quickly, and tie it up in very intricate ways with demon spells and power wells. They’re unstable, but one can manage a lot of complexity with them — because they’re almost alive. But almost alive means they change. This one seems to have changed from specific targets to general populace. And I don’t know how to unravel it without knowing what went into it to begin with. Also there’s the point that I won’t be calling any demons.”

  “Not while I am here, you won’t,” Asa says. Everyone looks at her.

  “Tread carefully,” Connor says. “This is Talaria, not Indranah.”

  “I am always exceedingly careful when it comes to demons. My sovereign will not take lightly to news of demon spell and taint in Talaria,” Asa says. “Is this young woman in thrall to Bishop Gantry?”

  “No,” Connor says.

  “Not as far as we can tell,” Julianna says at the same time. “He did try, but the spell failed, and he didn’t finish it.”

  “May I see?” She addresses me now. At least she is asking.

  “You don’t have to show her anything,” Linnet says from behind me, her hand clenched in mine. I can feel her trembling, in anger or fear, or both.

  “Who are these traders from Indranah really, Connor?” Julianna asks. Her voice takes on a very royal tone.

  Asa turns to her. “I am who I have said, Highness. Trader, ship owner, magician. Spy. You knew all that already. But I am perhaps a bit closer to my sovereign than I indicated.”

  “How close?”

  “Close enough. Connor is aware, as is your King Peter. I can help you dismantle this spell, perhaps. But I need to know more about it. What is the thrall spell the bishop placed on you? Please, let me see some of it.” She turns to me again.

  I let go of Linnet’s hand, and pull up my sleeve. She takes my arm, and power slips from me again. She looks up, her dark eyes wide. “That is very interesting. Does it always do that?”

  “More often lately,” I say.

  “Interesting,” she murmurs, looking at my marked skin. The scars are all white and old-looking anymore, but still recognizably runic symbols. Asa turns my arm without pu
lling.

  “I don’t think we have time for interesting,” I say, hoping against hope that she’ll know something, that she can fix me. Fix this.

  Asa nods, purses her lips. “I recognize some of these. Some are ancient Indrani, and some — I don’t know all of these. Are they all like this?”

  “I have drawings,” Hugh says. “But this isn’t the spell that is causing the sickness. This is just a version of how he got the power to call them, to set it up. He used Orrin. The spell might still be going through him, I think. Connor, where did you put him?”

  “Who is Orrin?” Asa asks.

  “Another of Gantry’s victims. He’s in a safehouse in town. I couldn’t get him any further away than that, and I had to go there a very roundabout way. He was — not in good shape.” Connor’s voice is very soft for the last sentence.

  My eyes burn, and I pull my arm free from Asa, turn to look out the windows.

  “He has this same spell on him? That Rhia does?” Asa asks.

  “Yes. But on Orrin it’s complete.” Connor catches my eye in the reflection of the window. “We don’t have time to analyze this spell.”

  “It does tell us what kind of magician this Gantry is,” Asa says.

  I spin to look at her. “Evil, maniacal, and insane,” I spit. “He wants power, he wants death, and he despises everyone he thinks is in his way.”

  “Familiar with ancient Indrani, clever enough to be able to conceal his actions, and, at least to begin with, cautious about interacting with the demons. Or he wouldn’t have created the spell on you and this Orrin. If he feeds demon power through other sources, it keeps him clean of the taint.”

  “So you’re saying Orrin is likely demon-tainted,” Hugh says, his voice gravelly.

  “If Gantry used demon power to control a death spell this large and intricate, and used Orrin to feed the power through, then yes. Probably. If Gantry called demons and fed them what they want, what they always want, air and life force and blood, it’s probable he used Orrin’s blood instead of his own. If he used his own at any time — he is theirs. Demons do not give up what they own. They only consume it.”

  “How do we save Orrin then?” I hate how wavery my voice is. I can’t leave my friend to that kind of fate.

  “I don’t know.” Asa’s eyes aren’t kind or comforting. She stares back at me, her face like stone.

  “Let’s try and stop the spell first. If we can break the spell, then maybe we can cure everyone. We’ll work on a way to save Orrin, too, Rhia. I promise,” Julianna says. She starts to stand, then grunts in surprise. “Oh …”

  I stare at the spreading wetness on her skirts, and Asa curses. Connor and Hugh stare in confusion.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Linnet asks.

  “The baby’s coming, I say, and hurry to Julianna’s side.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  We have been here for hours, it feels, but a glance at the water clock on the mantle tells me I’m mistaken. Sweat drips down my cheeks and back and when I breathe. I feel smothered in wet velvet.

  The storm that was threatening finally broke, full of wind and rain and thunder. We’ve built the fire in Julianna’s chamber high to keep her warm while she labors, but I long to stand outside and drown in cooler air.

  Asa has taken charge of the birth. The midwife we should have is sick, and Julianna doesn’t want anyone else up here. As it stands we need all hands taking care of everyone who’s ill in the great hall.

  Linnet runs back and forth between here and there, bringing herbs and linens and anything else we send her for.

  Connor stands braced in the doorway, behind the screen. I can see his head and his arms, holding the door frame as if he could tear it asunder. He only leaves to issue orders to the guards or for a few minutes if we send him away.

  Hugh knocks into him from behind. I only hear a few words. He’s been working with Preyasi and Bhanu on a way to break the spell. Zelig has come down with fever.

  Asa says, “This is it,” and urges Julianna to bear down. “It is now, your Highness, now.”

  Julianna yells, and Asa cries out as she pulls the baby the rest of the way free. Asa holds the child for a moment, then cuts the cord and pats the child with a towel, wipes at its face and back. The child is still and quiet.

  We wait for a cry, but it doesn’t come. Panting, Julianna collapses against the back of the chair. I look at Asa, whose eyes tell me what I fear.

  “Give him to me,” Julianna says.

  Asa wraps the baby in a clean towel, her head down. There’s no movement at all. My hand aches from where Julianna grips me.

  I lean down to Julianna. “I’m so sorry, your Highness.”

  “Give me my baby. He’s mine. I want to see him. I want Alex to see him.”

  I close my eyes on tears.

  “Oh, Juli,” Hugh says, and comes around the screen. I arrange the sheets down over her legs. Connor’s head drops, although he still holds up the doorway.

  “Give me my baby.” She sits forward and reaches for the child.

  Asa hands him over, and Juilanna pulls the child from the swaddling. I feel a pull on my magic as Julianna links to me, pulls power without even trying. I clamp down on the link, slow it to a trickle, try to stay upright.

  I feel a hand at my elbow; Connor is behind me. He looks down at Julianna and her child, his face a mask of stone.

  Julianna’s face crumples as she views the baby. His bluish skin and limp tiny limbs tremble from her crying. She clasps his corpse to her and rocks. “This is Gantry’s fault. His damned spells. He was perfect, perfect,” she sobs.

  “The body is demon-touched. I can feel it,” Asa says. “You say Gantry cast a spell on your babe?”

  “He cast a spell. I stopped it — I thought I stopped it,” Julianna says through tears.

  “Juli, pet, let me have it.” Hugh tries to take the dead child.

  “Him! His name is Absalom. He is my son.”

  Asa and I gather up soiled linens. Sweat slides down my sides, and I try not to look at anyone’s face. Thunder booms close to the castle.

  “Let me take him into the other room, pet. Let us take care of you.” He pulls the tiny bundle from her arms and takes it out of the room.

  I look back at Julianna. She shakes her head, then groans a little, grips the arms of the chair. “Your Highness, it’s time for the afterbirth,” Asa tells her.

  “Not yet. There’s another baby.” Julianna bears down again, as we stare in shock.

  Connor spins back from the hall where he was going after Hugh. “What? Julianna, you’re not having twins.”

  “It appears I am. Get out.” She pushes, and Asa hurries to check the position of the baby. Linnet and I stare at each other, then rush to get things ready for another birth.

  “You knew,” Connor accuses.

  “Of course I knew. What kind of Healer would I be if I didn’t know? Shut up! Get out!”

  “Your Highness, hold back a moment, I have the head,” Asa says gently, and Julianna pants.

  I hurry forward with a cloth to wipe her face. I glance up at Connor: he’s gone back behind the screen, bracing the doorway with both arms, his head down.

  This baby is born much more quickly, and Asa cleans it off. It — she — starts to yell and move her arms. A live girl, and all her limbs seem well-formed. I breathe a sigh of relief. Julianna laughs a little, with a sob in it.

  “Oh, give her here,” she says, smiling, and I reach to help, but the look on Asa’s face stops me.

  Connor shoves forward at our silence. “What? What is it?”

  “Give her to me,” commands Julianna, and after cutting the cord, Asa does.

  I take a good look at the crying baby. Her eyes are tight closed, and she looks fine to me, pinking up already. Julianna looks her over, touching her face, her legs, her back, holding her close.

  “I fear she is demon-touched also, your Highness. There is a taint.”

  Connor whips arou
nd. “Hugh! Get back in here!” He turns and strides to us. “Can you lift it?”

  “I don’t know. Please step back, my lord. Now it is time for the afterbirth.”

  “Yes,” Julianna breathes, holding her baby out to me. “Wipe her down with warm water, Rhia.”

  The tiny baby kicks weakly, still crying, but too tired to do more. I let the blankets fall away and reach for a cloth, soaked in plain water. When I touch her bare skin, I almost drop her. I sink to the floor, carefully, trying not to clutch.

  I See a child with white eyes, blind. But I know she can see, with a Sight so strong she uses the eyes of those around her. I gasp and the child in the vision looks at me with her empty eyes, smiles. It is not comforting. I break out of the vision and look down at this baby, trembling.

  In the chaos around me, no one has noticed my stumble. The baby is quiet in my arms, starting to root. Her skin is cold. I wipe her down quickly, wrap her again, trying not to touch her skin. I feel a hole has opened up in my stomach. Asa is right; there’s something wrong with this baby.

  Hugh rushes in past Connor, looks at the scene. He sees me holding a live baby.

  “Oh, Juli. Twins. May I see?”

  “Stay behind the screen, your Grace,” I say, and I stand to bring him his niece. “I — Asa says the baby is —” and I look over at her, cleaning Julianna. “She is d —” and I can’t speak. I shake my head.

  “I see. Let me have the child.”

  “Give me my baby.”

  “Yes, in a minute, love.”

  Julianna seems about to leap from the chair, but Asa warns her to take care with herself. She helps her to stand.

  “I want my baby.”

  Hugh is looking over the child, who has started crying again. He sends out a tendril of magic, draws it back. He looks up at Asa. “Do you think we can reverse it?”

  “I will try with you, your Grace.”

  “Good, because I don’t know how much energy I have left. I will need the help. Rhia — I hate to ask it of you, but how worn out are you?”

  My head aches and the channels of magic in my blood burn and chafe. I don’t know how much I have left. “Pretty worn, your Grace. But I can try to help.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Don’t kill yourself. I mean it. But link to me if you can. Let me know if you have to drop out. I’m going to try a spell that I’ve only read. Asa, have you ever removed demon taint?”