The Tainted City

by Courtney Schafer

  “But a backlash of forces as powerful as the confluence’s…” Kiran went cold. Soon, all the vipers will burn… “That would kill every mage in the entire Painted Valley.” Along with any nathahlen bound to them; and the nathahlen who survived the initial magical conflagration would find themselves without water.

  “Yes,” Ruslan said simply. “And distance will not save any mages who might flee. All of us who reside here have made blood vows to Sechaveh that link us irrevocably to the confluence.”

  Kiran swallowed. He didn’t remember making any such vows, though it could well have happened in the days he’d lost. Not that it mattered—the mark-bond he and Mikail shared with Ruslan meant any vows Ruslan had made linked them just as tightly to the confluence.

  “Isn’t there some way we might dissolve that link?” Mikail asked. “If the binding could be released, we could seek safety elsewhere, and return afterward—”

  Ruslan snorted. “To what? Should our enemy succeed, this valley will be left as barren of magic as the mountains. I will not run away like some sniveling charm-maker. Lizaveta and I searched for long decades to find a source of magic plentiful as this one. No one, mage or nathahlen, will take it from me.”

  “If you know how this disruption of forces is done—how do we counter him?” Kiran asked.

  “By destroying him,” Ruslan said. “We have not the time to counter him otherwise. To hold the balance of forces, we would first have to map their every detail; whereas our enemy needs no such knowledge. Think of a spinning top: easy for a child to flick it over with a finger. Far more difficult to use that same finger to keep the top in continuous motion. Thankfully, our enemy’s mediocre level of talent once again works in our favor. If he had the strength to alter confluence currents as we akheli can, he could have pulled the earth-forces out of balance long since. But instead of altering the currents to his design, I believe he waits for the confluence’s natural pattern to be in a propitious alignment, and then causes upheavals large enough to send the currents battering against the forces that contain them. A crude, brute-force method, and one that will need time and repetition to succeed. I think we have a week, perhaps even two, before he can increase the stability of the confluence beyond recovery.”

  A week didn’t sound very long to Kiran at all. He exchanged a troubled glance with Mikail, who asked, “Do you know the alignment he seeks, and can we predict its next occurrence? If we knew when he would next strike…”

  “Prediction is always challenging with currents as complex as those of the confluence, but yes, I intend to anticipate him,” Ruslan said. “Then we will see how he fares when facing not one akheli, but four.” The smile he swept over Kiran, Mikail and Lizaveta shone with savage anticipation.

  No wonder Ruslan had wanted him to study wounding spells. Kiran would have no hesitation whatsoever casting against the man who’d so badly injured both him and Mikail.

  Lizaveta stretched, slow and languid. “A shame we’ll have to kill him swiftly. Death seems so meager a payment for the trouble he’s caused us. But here, brother…your akhelyshen are wavering on their feet. Show them some kindness and let them rest while I help you analyze the confluence currents.”

  It was true, Mikail looked exhausted, and Kiran felt little better. Even without his active participation, the spellcasting had left him drained and weary, especially coming so soon upon his body’s healing.

  “Your advice is as excellent as ever.” Ruslan kissed her hand and nodded to Kiran and Mikail. “Rest while you can. The hunt will come soon, and I need you both ready to cast.”

  Kiran followed his mage-brother out of the workroom, the stained anchor stone looming large in his mind. Ready to cast…he had to get over his reluctance over blood magic, and soon. With the life of every mage in Ninavel resting on their spellwork, he couldn’t afford to balk. If he could only understand why he struggled so with the idea of harming nathahlen…

  He stopped short near the base of the staircase. “Mikail.”

  Mikail swung around. His gaze flicked to Kiran’s white-knuckled grip on the iron banister. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something happened, didn’t it? In the time I can’t remember. Something to do with a nathahlen, that caused the…squeamishness I feel now. You have to tell me what it was.”

  Mikail’s mouth set in a hard line. “Nothing happened.”

  Kiran descended to take his shoulders. “Don’t lie. Not to me. Please, Mikail…” He bent his forehead against Mikail’s. “Something changed me, left me weak. I know it in my bones. How can I overcome the weakness if I don’t know the cause?”

  Mikail’s breathing faltered. His hands slid up to tangle in Kiran’s hair. “You’re not weak, Kiran. You’re just…recovering. Believe me, remembering the past wouldn’t help that recovery one jot.”

  “You don’t know that,” Kiran insisted.

  Mikail let out a laugh that was halfway to a sob. He drew back, enough so he could hold Kiran’s gaze. “Little brother, trust me. You know I’d give my life for you. The past has nothing you need. If you’ve any love for me…then promise me you’ll leave this be.”

  He waited, eyes fierce. Kiran pulled him close again, so Mikail couldn’t see his face, and said quietly, “I promise.”

  A pang of guilt stabbed him when Mikail relaxed. But it was love that had driven him to lie; if he didn’t want Mikail punished for his sake, he had to find the key to remove his own reluctance. Besides, he’d meant part of the promise: he wouldn’t task Mikail with any more questions.

  Mikail wasn’t the only person he could ask. Once Mikail had fallen into exhausted sleep, and Ruslan and Lizaveta were barricaded behind wards to study the confluence, Kiran would have a precious window of time in which he could leave the house unhindered and unobserved. A chance he didn’t intend to waste.

  Chapter Sixteen

  (Dev)

  “Here we go,” I muttered to Lena, and pushed open the door of the Silvermule tavern’s back room. Inside waited Red Dal, lounging in a battered old chair with his legs kicked out before him and a drink in his hand. His collar was open, the wide crimson birthmark that’d inspired his name showing like a splash of blood at the hollow of his throat. The warm glow of the oil lamp overhead revealed signs of age the darkness had hidden during my vigil outside his Tainter den. Gray threaded his dark curls, and the lines graven in his mahogany skin were far deeper and more numerous than I remembered. He still bore the glint of mischief in his eyes that’d charmed me blind as a kid.

  I hadn’t been in the same room with him in years. Even after all this time, seeing him up close burned like I’d swallowed magefire. Yet at the same time, a near-manic anticipation bubbled through me, strong as any I’d felt upon climbing the final pitch up a mountain summit. After all these months, I’d walk out of this room with Melly’s freedom assured at last.

  Red Dal raised his glass in greeting. Ward charms glinted on his wrists, though his real protection was his arrangement with Acaltar’s top ganglord. Anyone who touched him would answer to her deathdealers. Word was she even employed a mage or two to take care of particularly tough targets.

  Red Dal said, “It’s been a long time, Dev, hasn’t it? Nice to see you’ve turned your hand to brokering. I always like to see one of my kids do well for himself, and you were one of my best.”

  His words were warm, his expression fond with a wistful hint of nostalgia. Bitterness scalded me. “I see you’ve the same smooth tongue.”

  Red Dal’s dimples deepened. “Sit, and let’s discuss what I can do for you…and your employer.” His laughing brown eyes raked over the silver sigils patterning Lena’s overtunic. If he was surprised to see me working for a mage, he was too canny to show it.

  Two equally hard-used chairs sat facing his. The windowless room was barren of all else. Red Dal didn’t bother with an office. Enough streetside taverns had private rooms and owners willing to keep their mouths shut that he didn’t lack in spots to meet potential clients.
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br />   Lena stalked over to the nearest chair and lowered herself to sit piton-straight on the very edge of the seat, doing a fair imitation of Stevan at his most icily impassive. I followed, but didn’t sit, instead standing behind and to her left like a sulaikh-servant.

  Red Dal sipped from his cup, watching her over the rim. “I must say I’m a trifle puzzled, now you’re here. Dev’s message implied we might do business…but what can a humble man like myself do for a mage?”

  “I require a certain commodity I was told you could provide.” Lena’s tone was as coldly polite as her face.

  Red Dal’s eyes took on a gleam of interest. “And this commodity would be?” Plenty of scholars and highside collectors hired Taint thieves to steal items out of a rival’s house. Mages didn’t usually do the same, since the Taint wasn’t much good against active casting, but it happened on rare occasion.

  “I am researching the interaction of the Taint and magic, and I need a strongly Tainted subject for study,” Lena said.

  Red Dal lost a little of his smile. “Oh my. I’m afraid that could be difficult. Unless…” The smile returned, full force. “How old would the subject need to be?”

  I knew what the rat bastard was thinking. He wouldn’t want to lose an experienced Tainter at the height of his or her power, but a toddler just old enough to show real talent would be a different story. It’s not easy to find strongly Tainted kids, but certainly not impossible.

  “The best subject for my research would be a child close to their Change. I’m told you have a girl nearing that age.” Lena didn’t look at me, but Red Dal did, his eyes sharp.

  “You surprise me, Dev. I thought you had a fond spot for my kids.”

  I kept my body relaxed and my expression sardonic. “So? Fondness doesn’t mean shit when it comes to a payday. Learned that from you, in fact.” I gave him a sandcat’s razored grin. “You know the one law in Ninavel.”

  “Profit over all,” Red Dal agreed, with a sly, conspiratorial wink that made my hand ache for my boneshatter charm.

  Lena allowed a hint of irritation to cross her face. “Is the child available, or isn’t she?”

  Red Dal set his cup down on the floor, his expression shifting to one of pained regret. “Unfortunately, she’s already spoken for, and my next oldest is still a good few years shy of his Change. I could make inquiries for you in other districts…”

  He was far too cagey to have signed a contract yet. He just didn’t want to lose the nice fat windfall the bids for Melly had promised him. I bit my tongue and didn’t look at Lena. I’d warned her he might not cooperate at first. Now she’d have to get creative.

  “I’ve made my own inquires,” Lena said, colder than ever. “Your oldest child is the closest match for my needs. Are you saying you refuse me?” She lifted a hand, silver light sparking on her rings. Red Dal’s tin cup glowed cherry red and melted into a sludge of metal.

  I cheered silently as Red Dal’s throat bobbed in a hard swallow. He edged his feet away from the smoking remains of his cup.

  “Believe me, I’d love to do a deal, but it really is impossible.” Real fear lay in his eyes, and I frowned. Something wasn’t right, here.

  “Explain,” Lena commanded him.

  “The girl is already promised to another mage. A blood mage.” Red Dal spoke in an urgent, pleading rush. “Surely you can see my position. I signed a sigil-sealed contract with the girl’s blood on it as surety—the deal’s been made, and I can’t go back on it, not for any price you offer. Look, I’ve even got a message from him—just got it this evening, says I should show it to anyone who disputes his claim…” He dug in a pocket.

  My first crazy thought when he said “blood mage” was that somehow Kiran had gotten his memory back. But Red Dal’s fear was all too damn familiar. Horror seeped through me.

  “This blood mage,” I said tightly. “Was he a tall, broad-shouldered man with long red-brown hair and a strange accent? Ruslan, by name?”

  “He didn’t give a name. But yes, that’s him.” Red Dal sounded surprised. “You know him?”

  I shut my eyes, fighting the urge to scream, or stab someone. Ruslan! How the fuck had he found her? Kiran’s memories were gone, and I hadn’t once let Ruslan touch me. He had Melly’s blood…shit, shit! Even if I snatched her away, it wouldn’t matter how far we ran. With a blood sample to target his spells, Ruslan could kill her as easy as crushing an ant, whenever he chose.

  “Oh yes,” Lena told Red Dal grimly. “He is known to me. Show me his message.”

  Red Dal handed her a paper with a single red sigil on it. Lena frowned and traced a finger over the sigil. Nothing happened. She looked all the more grim, and held the paper out to me. “Take this, but don’t touch the sigil.”

  I tweezed the paper between wary fingers. The sigil promptly flared and spread into a line of dark, spiky writing.

  One word to him of his past, and I’ll make the girl-child eat her own flesh.

  The paper dropped from my nerveless fingers. “You said you got this tonight. When did you sign the contract?”

  “Yesterday.” Red Dal shifted in his chair, his eyes darting between us. “Heard two days ago a stranger had been asking after me, but nobody would say who, or what he looked like. Next thing I know, a blood mage stalks in through my door.”

  Yesterday. Ruslan must have started looking for Red Dal right after I’d spoken to Kiran the first time. Kiran and Marten had both thought Ruslan too dismissive of the untalented to treat me as an enemy—and even today, when I realized they were wrong, I’d thought he go after me directly. That with Kiran’s memories wiped away, Ruslan would have no insight into my past.

  What a fool I’d been! He must’ve interrogated Kiran about me before he blotted out Kiran’s memories. Kiran wouldn’t have told him of Melly willingly. Nausea twisted my gut as I imagined Kiran screaming like Torain had. What else had Kiran told him? Oh shit, I had to assume he knew about Cara. I had to warn her, tell her to run. Ruslan meant to use Melly as hostage to keep me clear of Kiran, but he wouldn’t stop there. Not after today. I thought of Kiran’s shadowed eyes and screaming nightmares, and my chest constricted like I’d fallen into an ice-melt lake.

  “The child is still in your possession?” Lena asked Red Dal.

  He nodded, watching her warily. “The blood mage said I could use her while her Taint holds, though she’s his by contract. Said if she’s handed off to another’s care, though, he’ll know, and would take it, ah…badly.”

  So not only was Ruslan ready to savage her in an eyeblink, she’d still be going out on jobs that could get her snatched by the mystery assassin. Sick, desperate fear weakened my knees. Ruslan could do whatever he wanted to Melly and I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t—

  Wait. The embassy’s wards were among the strongest I’d ever seen. If I could get Melly there before Ruslan realized it, maybe the Alathians could stop him casting against her.

  I clamped Lena’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, “I want her out of there. Make him give her to you, hurt him if you have to, I don’t care what it takes—”

  Lena gripped my wrist and my voice locked. Furious, I jerked against her hold, even as she ordered Red Dal, “Leave this room, but do not wander far. I shall call you back momentarily, and if you are nowhere to be found, I will be the one to take it badly.”

  He nodded, his face gone sallow, and darted out the door as fast as if a direwolf chased him.

  Lena raised her free hand and chanted a quick phrase. She held the pose a moment longer, then nodded in satisfaction.

  The block on my voice released. “Why the fuck did you let him leave?” I snarled, tearing free of her grip.

  “You and I need to talk. I cast a silencing spell so we can speak freely.” Lena stood, casting her chair aside in one sharp movement. “I will not hurt him to get Melly for you. Ruslan is the problem now, not Red Dal. We must tell Marten—”

  “No more waiting! Get her to the embassy. Halassian said your wards w
ere strong enough to hold off Ruslan, right? If Marten doesn’t like it, tough. Every damn lead you’ve had in this has come from streetside. You tell him he won’t get a single thing more unless I see Melly safe.” Even if safe meant Marten’s hostage. Gods all damn me! I’d been so sure I could navigate a middle course, avoid handing her to him entirely. But now, if ever, I had to choke down hatred, for all it helped me ignore the black weight of self-recrimination. Marten would use Melly to keep me leashed, yeah, but he wouldn’t skin her alive.

  Lena said, urgent and frustrated, “No. Think. This is why Ruslan left her with Red Dal. He wants you to panic and run off with her to the embassy. Then he can go to Sechaveh and complain we’ve stolen his property, claim we are hindering his investigation, and insist that Sechaveh revoke our sanction.”

  I turned aside to brace my hands on the wall, breathing hard. Damn it! I could see Ruslan trying something like that. And Marten would hand Melly and me both over to Ruslan in an eyeblink before he’d risk getting evicted from the city.

  How I wished Ruslan would find a way to hurt Marten, too; that I wouldn’t be the only one to feel this agony of helplessness. I struggled to think past fear and fury.

  “Does Marten have a way to stop Ruslan using the blood-mark? Some ward to protect Melly, or charm she could wear?”

  Lena said reluctantly, “I’m not certain. The amulet Kiran wore would have been sufficient, but…”

  The amulet Kiran had destroyed today to spare Jylla’s life. Pain clawed at me. “Can you make another one?”

  Lena shook her head. “Stevan modified an existing artifact to create that amulet. We have nothing of the kind here in Ninavel to work with.”