Scholar's Plot

by Hilari Bell

  “Hey!” The tapster darted out from behind the bar. “I’ve seen that signal three times now, Master, and I want you to show your hand. If it’s long on daggers, then you’re cheating. The game will stop, and you and your partner’s stakes will be … divided…”

  His steps slowed in time with his words, for as he spoke Pig had risen to his considerable height.

  Belatedly, I remembered what triggered the Pig and Squirrel con and how it ran. As Kathy would say, Oh. Dear.

  “Who called me a cheat?” Pig rumbled, in a voice that turned heads all over the room. “Who told you I’m cheating?”

  It would have taken a stupider man than the tapster to refuse. He pointed to Stint, who promptly pointed to me. Where was I supposed to point? At Carmichael, who was sixty if he was a day? At Kathy?

  I sprang to my feet, leaping to put the table between us. Pig solved that problem by putting one hand under the edge and flipping it like a tin plate. It probably weighed fifty pounds. It fell with a loud crack, followed by the rattle of falling coins, but I was too busy running for my life to watch Squirrel at work.

  I dodged first between two tables where diners and card players sat almost back against back, hoping he wouldn’t fit between them. But the startled men saw him coming and leapt from their chairs to get out of his way.

  Next I dove under one of the long rectangular dining tables, hoping he’d have to go around it while I made for the door. He knocked it down and stepped over it. The plates that had been on the table crashed, and the people who’d been eating shouted protests.

  I dodged left, hoping Kathy had fled and that Michael would be free to play his part. But Pig was faster than he looked and cut me off, backing me up till there was only one, large round table between me and the corner of the room where the wall met the bar.

  Then a chair swung up from the floor and crashed into the man’s back. It didn’t break — rough taverns make a point of buying sturdy furniture, for just these occasions — but it bounced off his shoulders with a meaty thump.

  It wasn’t till he turned to face his attacker that I saw Kathy, still holding the chair and looking surprised that he hadn’t fallen down yet.

  Why hadn’t she run? Michael wasn’t the only Sevenson who was crazy.

  Pig reached out and grabbed a chair leg, pulling it aside. Kathy swung with it, like a terrier hanging onto a rag, till she crashed into a table and had to let go.

  I could have run then, but that would leave her at Pig’s mercy and his back was toward me. I folded my hands into a big double fist, rushed forward, and brought them down on the back of his thick neck. It felt like hitting a bull’s neck, and I’d struck hard enough that I stepped back yelping, and shaking sore hands.

  Pig didn’t fall under my blow either, but he staggered a step and dropped the chair before turning back to me with a roar of rage. The diversion allowed me to leap aside, as well as back, and put the round table between us.

  Designed to seat eight to ten players, it was big enough that even this man’s arms wouldn’t reach across it, and heavy enough he couldn’t toss it aside.

  He started around it to the right, and I went right too. He changed direction, and I went left. I hoped Kathy would have the sense to run. I wondered what Michael, and the tapster whose place we were wrecking, were doing, but I didn’t dare take my gaze off Pig.

  “Your partner’s probably out by now,” I said. “You could just let this go.”

  Understanding flickered in his eyes, but the doughy face never changed. A very good actor. Which wasn’t all that reassuring, since beating the crap out of me would only add realism to his performance.

  “Why did you say we cheated? I don’t cheat!” he bellowed.

  “Yes, you do.” And I could cheat too. I started drifting toward the left, not too obviously, swerving back every few steps, but generally left.

  And as I’d followed his movements earlier, he now followed mine.

  “You and your partner were signaling cards all night. You’d tell her what suits you were long in by touching your stomach, or your nose, or ear, and she’d tell you how strong she was in that suit by which fingernail she bit.”

  “If we were cheating so good, why were you winning?”

  There was a sincerity underlying that question that made me realize this wasn’t all an act… But I’d now moved far enough around the table that his back was to the corner and my back was toward the room.

  I spun and ran for the door. Most of the tavern’s customers had fled, but I met crazy Mistress Katherine coming toward me. Somewhere she’d found a stout walking stick, which would probably have broken the man’s skull and killed him. I grabbed her arm and pulled her along, removing the stick from her hands and tossing it behind us, though I didn’t take time to aim.

  Michael gave us a wide grin as we passed him, his eyes bright with excitement. I had wished he’d come to my rescue, but now I was glad he’d stayed at his post. Kathy’s court petticoats and high heels were going to be a hindrance to running.

  We dashed out of the tavern and into the street, turned at random, and started toward the university. We’d gone no more than a few yards when I heard the crash of the giant’s fall.

  Still running, I looked back in time to see Michael leap over Pig, who was already getting to his hands and knees. He grinned at me once more, and as the fallen man shouted, “You’re with them!” Michael turned and raced off in the opposite direction.

  Kathy and I had gained some distance and the night was dark. I whirled her into a shadowy doorway, pressing her warm body tight against mine, just before Pig emerged into the street. He looked toward us and saw nothing. He looked the other way and saw Michael, running toward the river. He chased after the prey he could see.

  Lady Katherine clung to me, so close I could feel her gasping and shaking … with laughter.

  “You’re even crazier than your brother,” I murmured. “And I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just … ’twas so funny. You should have seen your face when Stint pointed at you.”

  She had the sense to laugh softly, so I almost forgave her.

  “I’m glad you find the thought of me about to be pulverized so amusing, but it’s not a laughing matter. He knows we played him. As soon as Michael loses him, Pig will come looking for us. And Squirrel’s still around here somewhere. If she sees where we go, she’ll tell him. We need to go to ground for an hour or so.”

  And I led Lady Katherine, fine court clothes and all, into the darkest, dirtiest alley I could find, looking for a hideout.

  I leapt the fallen man’s body and darted into the street. One flashing glance told me the direction in which Fisk and Kathy fled, and I paused long enough to make sure the man I’d tripped could see me before I headed off in the other.

  I was not as dismayed as mayhap I should have been. From my post at the door, I’d seen that Fisk and Kathy had the matter in hand. Now, hearing heavy footsteps racing after me, I was glad I hadn’t been forced to go to their aid — for more than one reason.

  Ever since I’d heard Professor Dayless’ theories, I’d been wanting to test them — or rather to push them even further, by trying to shape the form my magic took.

  Since the chance to do so would only arise if I was in dire danger, I’d chosen not to mention my plan to Fisk, who objects to that kind of thing. But now I was in danger, for the large angry man whose honor Fisk had impugned might well take his annoyance out on me.

  The professor had said magic was in the mind, but to me it felt like a well of some glowing viscous substance, deep in my gut, with a stone slab atop it. That power now stirred uneasily, but the lid stayed firmly in place.

  Clearly, I wasn’t yet frightened enough. Would it be too reckless to let the fellow corner me, mayhap strike me a time or two?

  Probably, but as I ran toward the river docks another idea took shape. Could I use magic — which had worked upon the air to save me once before — to form
a bubble of air around my head? ’Twould not do to get too deep in the river, for in those currents even a strong swimmer might be swept away. But near the bank it should be safe to experiment, to see if I could carry down enough air to breathe for a short time, and remain under the surface till my pursuer departed.

  The footsteps didn’t seem to grow nearer or fall back. I risked a glance behind and saw him running steadily, a determined look on his coarse features. I’d seen the way he treated his poor sister — if Fisk’s accusation was true, I’m sure he bullied her into cheating for him. ’Twould be a pleasure to trick this man, and I began to form the bubble in my mind. I could almost see a thin skin of magic, rising in a perfect sphere about my head and shoulders to allow me to go on breathing when the water closed over it … but the lid on my magic stayed shut.

  I was thinking, not panicking, and according to the professor these calm thoughts were what latched that lid in place.

  Mayhap I had to be closer to the threat? As I ran down the road that fronted the riverside docks, its barges and warehouses only half visible in the light of the rising Green Moon, I began looking for someplace that both gave access to the river and would allow the hunter to corner me. Then I saw it; a long covered pier, extending out into the river for some distance, and mayhap open to the water inside. The doors were closed, but it looked as if a simple lever would lift the latch.

  Ordinarily, I’d never allow myself to be trapped in such a place … but when would I next have a chance to test my theory? I had to seize it.

  I pressed the lever and swung one big door wide. Inside, the first section was more warehouse than dock, holding bundles of cut wood and pallets of brick, loads too heavy and bulky for anyone to steal. Only as I ran down the dock did I see that next came a section in which one side of the building had been opened to the water, so the flat riverboats could pull up and load under shelter. On the dry side of the pier, bundles of cut hay were stacked, likely awaiting transport to Crown City. They covered half the floor with no space between them, leaving me nowhere to hide.

  This might not have been as good an idea as it once seemed. My stomach sinking, I turned back just in time to see the big man step inside and close the great doors. He took in the room, and my position in it with a swift glance, then picked up a loop of wire that hung on a nearby pillar. I hadn’t long to wonder what he wanted with it, for he wrapped the latch closed, four loops of wire and the ends twisted. It could be easily undone, but ’twould take some time. Time I wasn’t likely to get.

  I expected him to rush forward when he finished, but he moved with deliberation, reaching out to sort through a tool pile and extract a boat hook.

  I found myself backing down the dock without making a conscious choice to move, a chill running down my nerves. Boat hooks are neither heavy nor sharp, but they’re sturdy, and it extended his already superior reach six feet. If I couldn’t wrest it from his grasp, which was unlikely with a man that strong, he could beat me to a pulp without ever coming into my reach.

  A very bad idea.

  “I’ve no quarrel with you, sir,” I said. “I’m not the one who accused you of cheating.”

  “No.” The man drew nearer as his spoke. His voice was still deep, but no longer a furious roar. “But you’re with them. How did he know enough about our operation to set us up?”

  This calm purpose was more frightening than his anger had been — faked anger, it seemed. But fear might still work in my favor.

  My heart pounding, I backed out from under the roof and onto the open pier … where I found I’d made a misjudgment. We were deeper into the river than I’d wanted to go, and the light of the Green Moon rippled on the surface in a way that told of swift currents beneath. If I let myself be swept away, ’twould be hard to get back to shore.

  Trying to convince him I wasn’t working with Fisk would be no use, but mayhap the truth would serve?

  “He had no intention of setting you up. He’d no idea you’d be there. How could he? You came in after him, and added yourselves to the game, remember?”

  “I do.”

  The boat hook flashed out, without warning, and I barely managed to jump back in time.

  “That’s why I need to know who betrayed us, and why.”

  This man might not be nearly as dull-witted as he’d appeared, but his mind had fixed on his own conclusions. ’Twould not change, until I’d been beaten so badly no one could have kept silent.

  I had to get out of here, had to hide…

  We were nearly at the end of the pier now, moonlight glowing on the braided ripples where the pilings cut the current — too much current, too hard, too fast. But the shadows beneath the planks were dark … and my magic, finally, flowed sluggishly over the lip of its deep well.

  I shaped the air bubble with all my mind, will and terror, and leapt off the up-current side of the pier.

  There was no bubble. Water flowed over my face, my lips, and ran cold fingers through my hair. I was so startled by my failure that I hit the first piling before I realized the current was sweeping me along. I tried to grab the next dim shape as it brushed past — and missed. A rough band scraped across my chest and neck, and I grabbed wildly for it instead, the rope coarse and frayed, but solid under my hands.

  The pull of the current against it raised me straight to the surface, not six feet from the pier where my assailant stared over the river. With me in the water and him swinging that accursed boat hook, the result of any fight was a forgone conclusion. I was about to release the rope and let the current take me, preferring the risk of drowning to the certainty of being badly beaten, when his gaze swept over me without pausing.

  I blinked the water out of my eyes, hardly able to believe it, but he kept on looking, even kneeling down to look beneath the pier … only a few arms’ length from where I floated in plain sight. I kicked my feet to keep my head above the surface, taking care to make no sound, no splash to betray my presence. But how could he miss seeing me?

  To my own sight, my magic now flowed strongly through my body, making my hands glow beneath the river’s skin like candle lanterns. He couldn’t see magic. Except mayhap the jeweler, I knew of none who could. But surely the moonlight showed me clearly!

  Yet as I looked at the rippling water, around me there lay a patch of darkness several yards wide where far less light reflected off the waves.

  I looked back at the Green Moon, two-thirds full and well-risen. If I saw it so clear, there was certain- ly nothing to shadow me. And yet that curious dark patch remained. As the big man rose to his feet he looked around again, and again right at me … and he saw nothing.

  He shrugged and walked back to the covered warehouse, his heels thumping hollowly on the planks.

  He cast one more look back before he went inside, though this time he looked less at the area near the pier and more at the river downstream.

  I stayed where I was, clutching my blessed rope with hands that grew colder by the minute. ’Twas some time later, far longer than it would take him to replace the boat hook and untwist his wire from the latch, before he came out from behind the corner of the warehouse and set off toward the Fighting Fish.

  His size made him recognizable, even by moonlight. He turned his head several times, looking back at the pier and down the river. ’Twas only when he passed out of sight that the glow around my hands faded, and moonlight began to glint on the water around me.

  I pulled myself up the pilings with hands numb with cold, even on this summer night. I felt as if I’d been in the river for an hour, though it must have been far less than that, and I clambered onto the dock with limbs that trembled and scuttled into the shadowed warehouse.

  Eventually, I set off down the nearly deserted streets to Benton’s rooms. The socks inside my boots squished miserably with every step, though I’d poured them out twice. After some time passed, I finally stopped listening for footsteps behind me and was able to think about the results of my experiment.

  The magic
had come, in response to fear and need, just as I’d planned — though it had taken more fear and greater need than I cared for.

  Why hadn’t it formed the bubble of air I’d wanted? I had thought of it, willed it with all my strength. Instead, it had hidden me. Not that I was complaining about that. In fact … in my heart, what I’d wanted was to hide. Not to breathe underwater, but to be hidden, safe from my pursuer. The magic had obliged, not my will — it had ignored that, as it usually did. It had obeyed the deepest wishes of my heart. This was good in one way, as I was alive and unharmed. But in the other… Professor Dayless’ theory was still intact, but it seemed to offer me little chance to turn this strange, unasked-for Gift into a useful tool.

  As for the other experiment we’d attempted this night… I’d have to learn from Fisk why he’d revealed the other cheats, but it seemed that task had come to naught as well.

  And my boots squished.

  There were puddles in the alley, and given how long it had been since the last rain, I didn’t want to know what was in them.

  Despite the narrowness of this gap between the buildings, Kathy had hoisted her skirts high. It wasn’t as if either of us could see where we were going, anyway. I bumped into two different barrels, probably set there to collect rain, and a sharp-edged crate that caught me on the shin. Kathy ran into something that clattered like a child’s block tower as it fell, and one piece of it got under my foot and rolled, nearly bringing both of us down.

  By the time we reached the end and looked out into a moonlit stable yard, I was almost ready to go back to the streets and risk bumping into Squirrel. But even pitch dark alleys were preferable to an encounter with Pig, who might have lost Michael by now, so I looked around carefully before we emerged.

  There was a large pen off to one side, with half a dozen oxen in it, and a very big stable with a huge load of tightly bound hay hanging up by the open doors of its loft. We were close to the river, and this was probably where freight drivers on the river road stabled their beasts, while they slept at some nearby inn.