The Magelands Epic: Soulwitch Rises (Book 7)

by Christopher Mitchell

  The Empress went to take another drink, but noticed her glass was empty. She glanced at Calder. ‘Whisky.’

  Calder raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He stood, and walked over to a tall, glass-fronted cabinet.

  ‘The good news,’ said Nyane, ‘is that both Rainsby and Stretton Sands have enough provisions to last them over the winter. If we can hold out until spring, then the conscripts currently being marshalled will be able to bring the garrisons around the Inner Sea back up to their full strengths.’

  ‘Is that it?’ said Calder, a bottle of whisky in his hands as he stood by the cabinet. ‘All this effort, all this pain, just to re-garrison our positions and wait for the Rahain to attack again?’ He shook his head. ‘The people won’t take that well.’

  ‘It’s not up to the people,’ said Belinda. ‘The Empress’s strategy is clear.’

  Calder brought the bottle over to the table, pulled out the cork, and placed it in front of the Empress. She stared at it for a moment, then poured herself a large measure. Nyane suppresses her tongue-flicker as she watched the Empress take a drink. Noon was still an hour away, and with so many problems pressing on the empire, the last thing she wanted was the Empress getting drunk.

  ‘Any news of Sable?’ the Empress said.

  ‘None,’ said Nyane. ‘The only possible sightings remain those from a few days ago that had her on the way to the Holdings.’

  The Empress frowned, shook her head, and took another drink.

  ‘If it really was her,’ said Belinda.

  Nyane glanced at her.

  ‘I’m not calling your mother a liar,’ Belinda went on, ‘but it’s possible that a different agent was using Sable’s name to sow confusion.’

  ‘I had her describe her to me,’ said Nyane. ‘Her looks, her manner of speaking, and I’m afraid I harbour little doubt that it was in fact Sable who brought my mother out of Rahain.’

  The Empress glanced over.

  ‘I know it looks odd, your Majesty,’ Nyane said.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking that. It’s just as likely that Sable brought a mixture of Rahain agents and true dissidents out with her, in order to “sow confusion”, as Belinda put it. She’s probably hoping that we’ll automatically mistrust your mother.’

  ‘But, your Majesty, it seems we do mistrust her; otherwise, why is she forbidden to visit me in the Great Fortress?’

  The Empress frowned. ‘Without Karalyn here to read strangers, I must put my children first.’ She raised a finger to point at the burnished metal eye-plate that covered the side of her face. ‘Do you think I’m likely to forget how the palace was breached before? It’s nothing personal; the rules apply to everyone.’

  Nyane nodded.

  ‘How is she?’ said Calder.

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ said Nyane. ‘She and my father have settled well into my apartment above the university. Everything’s a big change for her, of course, but we’ll get there. I think the attention she was getting in the Rahain quarter upset her a little, so the move to the university has worked out well, I think.’

  Calder glanced at her. ‘It must be hard.’

  ‘It’s not been without its challenges. Nineteen years is a long time.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said the Empress, pouring herself another whisky. ‘You should go and see her. I know how much you hate having to sit and watch me drink.’

  ‘I am at your service, your Majesty, and I never hate being in your company.’

  ‘Alright then, I hate it when you’re sitting watching me drink. I can sense your disapproval a mile off.’

  ‘But we still have much to discuss.’

  ‘We always have things to discuss; that’ll never change, but right now, I just want to get drunk, and let the wave of bad news wash over me.’

  Nyane bowed her head. ‘If you insist, your Majesty.’

  ‘I do.’

  She got to her feet. Calder and Belinda remained where they were, and Nyane gave each a slight nod.

  ‘I’ll be in the university if I’m needed,’ she said, then turned and left the council chamber, a sentry opening the door for her.

  A mixture of emotions troubled her as she made her way down the flights of stairs to the lower levels of the fortress. She was relieved that she wouldn’t have to watch the Empress get drunk. Whisky sometimes made her angry and tearful, and liable to lash out at those she loved. Despite this, she was annoyed that Belinda and Calder were staying. Calder had been getting closer and closer to the Empress over the passing thirds, and hardly ever left her side, and Nyane was more than a little jealous of the bond they were developing. Sometimes she thought that Calder would make a more suitable herald; certainly a less awkward one. And Belinda? She hated to admit it, but perhaps Karalyn had been at least partly correct; perhaps Belinda wasn’t ready to possess enough power to level a city.

  Sadness, though, was the dominant emotion. Her closest relationships were strained to breaking point; she hadn’t seen Dean in several days, and Karalyn was probably lost to her forever. Isobel and Dyam were dead, and Olin was in jail; and the one person she had focussed on – the Empress, was growing tired of her presence.

  And yet, waiting for her in the university were her parents. Both of them. She smiled, but it was bittersweet.

  ‘Good morning, father,’ she said as she entered the small kitchen in her university apartment.

  He turned from the stove to glance at her. ‘This is a nice surprise, little flower. I wasn’t expecting to see you until later this evening. I’m making tea, would you like some?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She sat at the table as her father prepared cups and took the boiling kettle from the stove.

  ‘Is mother still in bed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nightmares?’

  He sighed. ‘Yes. Another dreadful night, I’m afraid. I’ll have to pop downstairs and apologise to your neighbours; they must think someone’s being murdered in here.’

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ said Nyane. ‘I’ll take care of it.’

  He poured tea into two cups and brought them over to the table. He sat, and Nyane noticed the tiredness round his eyes.

  ‘I would hate to think I was abusing your hospitality,’ he said. ‘I really am very grateful to you for letting us stay here.’

  ‘It’s nothing. You’re my family.’

  He put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. ‘I never thought it would be so… difficult. The days are hard, but the nights? I dread the setting of the sun, for I know that when the nightmares come, my heart breaks all over again.’

  ‘I should stay here one night to give you a break.’

  ‘No, daughter. It would pain me even more for you to have to see your mother in such distress. I am her husband; it’s my job and I’ll not shirk from it.’

  Nyane sipped her tea.

  There was a loud rap on the front door. Nyane’s father started, his eyes glancing towards the bedroom where her mother was sleeping. Nyane got to her feet as another knock rang through the apartment. She left the kitchen and went into the hallway, then opened the door to see Ravi standing outside the apartment, looking dishevelled, and reeking of dreamweed and gin.

  ‘Morning,’ he cried. ‘I was up all night, working, and I’ve just got to tell you what happened. I was coming to the fortress to see you, but I saw your carriage outside, and thought to myself, well that’s a stroke of luck, because now I won’t have to travel across half the city…’

  ‘Hush, Ravi,’ Nyane said. ‘My mother’s asleep, and I don’t want her to awaken.’

  ‘Oops,’ said Ravi, squeezing past her as he entered the apartment. ‘I’ll just have to tell you quietly. Got any coffee?’

  Nyane frowned. ‘Maybe now isn’t the…’ She paused as Ravi took off his coat and strode into the kitchen.

  ‘Hello, Nyane’s dad,’ she heard him say. ‘Oh, the kettle’s just boiled. Excellent. No, don’t get up; I’ll help myself.’r />
  Nyane closed the front door and returned to the kitchen, where Ravi was busying himself by the stove.

  ‘Where do you keep the sugar?’ he said.

  ‘What is this noise?’ said a voice from the bedroom door. ‘Is everything alright?’

  ‘Yes, mother,’ Nyane said. ‘Everything’s fine. It’s just Ravi.’

  ‘I’ll ignore that,’ said Ravi. ‘Hi, Nyane’s mum. I’m making coffee, want some?’

  The woman stared at him, her eyes narrow. She turned her glance to Nyane’s father.

  ‘I ask you to do one thing,’ she said, ‘to let me sleep, and you can’t even manage that. You know how tired I am; do you not even care? Here you are, inviting strangers into the house.’

  ‘He’s my friend,’ said Nyane, ‘it is I who’s to blame, not father.’

  ‘Umm,’ said Ravi, ‘have I arrived at a bad moment?’ He turned to Nyane’s mother. ‘This is all my fault. I just got so excited by something that happened last night that I had to run over and tell Nyane. Kerri never tires of saying that I’m always putting my foot in it, so sorry.’ He poured a cup of coffee and offered it to Nyane’s mother with one of his big grins.

  She took it and sat at the table, her eyes suspicious.

  ‘Ravi’s a clay mage,’ said Nyane. ‘He’s been working on a project for me.’

  ‘He smells of alcohol,’ said her mother.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ravi said, sipping his coffee. ‘Burning the candle at both ends, as they say. Sometimes my best ideas come to me when I’m a little bit rubbered, and this one’s a corker.’ He turned to Nyane. ‘It’s the silica, it’s obvious. Threads of silica binding to grains of silicon along their lateral axes at the tiniest level imaginable; smaller than anyone’s eye can see, with five parts stone to one part clay; yeah, only one part clay; I know, it’s mad, eh?’

  Nyane raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know. Is it?’

  Ravi frowned for a second, then his grin re-appeared. ‘Maybe I should show you. So far,’ he said, waving his arms around, ‘it’s all up here in my head. I’ve not actually tested my theory yet.’

  ‘What, may I ask,’ said Nyane’s mother, ‘are you trying to achieve?’

  Ravi shrugged. ‘Do you know much about stone or clay?’

  She eyed him with a glance that bordered on contempt. ‘I was a city engineer for fifteen years, young man; in charge of cavern maintenance and repairs. I kept the water flowing, the lights on, and the heating pipes working. I know a thing or two.’

  ‘Great,’ said Ravi. ‘Are you a mage as well?’

  ‘Yes, but only in a technical sense. A sand-shaker, as they say; nothing like Nyane.’ She turned her glance away. ‘If I’d been a proper mage, I would have never been allowed to escape. The stone mages are guarded and watched closely.’ Her eyes drifted away.

  ‘Have you done much construction?’ said Ravi, but the woman didn’t respond.

  ‘Give her a moment,’ said Nyane’s father.

  ‘Don’t patronise me,’ she said, her eyes re-focussing. She glanced at Ravi. ‘What were you saying?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘In answer to your question about what I’m doing, I had this idea to see if I could make a new material that was stronger than anything else; resistant to clay, stone and fire powers; able to absorb massive artillery bombardments. How, you ask? By combining my clay skills with a Rahain mage’s stone powers, working together to create something new.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Impossible.’

  ‘Why?’

  Nyane’s mother’s tongue flicked out. ‘Well, because they are two separate powers, completely unrelated.’

  ‘Yeah, but working on the same, basic raw materials: crushed stone mixed with finely-sieved clay particles. Look, I could explain this a million times, or we could all go over to the lab and I’ll show you.’

  ‘I, I... don’t know.’

  ‘It’ll do you good to get out of the apartment,’ said Nyane’s father.

  ‘I agree,’ said Nyane, ‘especially as this is a subject that you have an interest in. You could look through the notes, and give us a considered opinion.’

  ‘Yeah, it’ll be a laugh,’ said Ravi, dropping his empty coffee cup into the sink. ‘Come on.’

  ‘But I’m not dressed to go out,’ said Nyane’s mother.

  ‘I’ll wait for you,’ said Ravi.

  Half an hour later, Ravi led Nyane and her parents through the corridors of the university towards the laboratory. He kept a friendly conversation going for the entire way; chatting to Nyane’s mother, and asking her about her various aspects of her work for the Rahain. Nyane stayed back, listening but remaining quiet. This could be a good thing, she thought; something to distract her mother from the anxiety attacks and feelings of dislocation that had been affecting her since her return.

  Her father caught her eye and nodded as they walked. She knew that he had no interest in the complexities of stone and clay-work, but seemed happy that they had got out for a while. Ravi stopped at a door and unlocked it.

  ‘It’s, eh, in a bit of a mess,’ he said. ‘I’ll clean it up later.’

  He walked into the large room and went round opening the shutters. Nyane entered, frowning as she caught the heavy odour of keen and dreamweed in the air. The worktops were cluttered with detritus; lumps of clay lay mixed with fragments of rock, while there was so much on the floor that their shoes crunched as they walked.

  Ravi cleared a space on a workbench, moving aside the empty cups and glasses. He picked up two bags from another table and brought them over, setting them down next to a set of scales.

  ‘Finely ground,’ he said, holding one bag aloft, ‘and this one’s finely-sieved.’ He nodded at a metal container. ‘I’m gonna mix them in that.’

  ‘A cake tin?’ said Nyane.

  ‘It’s all I could find last night. It’ll make a rough brick-shape. Clever, eh? I got a wooden spoon, too.’

  He began pouring from one bag, and a stream of grey powder spilled into the tin. He then reached into the other bag and grasped a handful, then dropped it into the tin.

  ‘Now some water, then stir,’ he grinned. He took a water bottle and dribbled a cupful into the mixture, then began stirring with the spoon, the liquid turning the pulverised stone and clay into a thick grey porridge.

  ‘Okay,’ he said to Nyane, ‘if my sums are right, these new proportions, and all the extra grinding and sieving, which took me hours, by the way, should do the trick. Are you ready?’

  Nyane stepped forward. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Right, I want you to think down to the smallest size of particle possible, then five of those are going to join to one of my blobs of clay. Got it?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure what you mean, but I’ll try.’

  She held out her hand and felt for her powers, then sent them into the mixture. It was a bit like manipulating sand, she thought, feeling her way through the powdered rock. She began to order the granules, then glanced at Ravi, whose fingertips were poised on the mixture.

  ‘I see what you’re doing,’ he said. ‘Good. Now, just let me…’

  She felt their power combine to blend the clay with the stone, and she laughed.

  ‘What happened?’ said her mother.

  ‘I felt it,’ Nyane said. She gazed at the solid lump of grey matter in the tin. ‘Well? Did we do it?’

  Ravi grinned. ‘Yeah. Told you it’d be easy. It’s the proportions, as I’ve been saying all along; that and the grinding. We’ve cracked it.’

  Nyane frowned.

  ‘Go on,’ said Ravi, ‘try to break it.’

  She held out her hand again, then gasped as she realised that she could no longer sense the rock particles within the mixture. She glanced at him. ‘I can’t.’

  He laughed. ‘Neither can I!’ He took her hands in his and began to dance, wheeling her across the floor of the laboratory as her parents watched, smiling. ‘We’re going to be rich,’ he sang.

  Nyane rem
embered her position, and coughed, releasing her hands from his. Ravi shot her a look, then continued to dance by himself. She walked back over to the workbench and prodded the grey material. It was hard and unyielding. She turned the tin upside down and tapped on the bottom, but nothing happened.

  ‘Did you grease the tin, Ravi?’

  ‘Eh, what?’ he said, coming to a stop. ‘Was I supposed to?’

  Nyane’s mother laughed, a sound her daughter hadn’t heard for a long time. ‘Have you never baked a cake, young man?’

  ‘That’ll be a “no”,’ he said. He took the tin from Nyane and banged his fist on the bottom. ‘Stuck solid. Must’ve welded itself to the metal. Shit.’

  ‘Language, Ravi,’ said Nyane. ‘Remember who’s present.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about that,’ her mother said. She stuck out her hand to Ravi. ‘My name’s Nadia.’

  Ravi shook her hand.

  ‘I admit,’ she went on, ‘that what I have seen here has fired my imagination, and my mind is bursting with ideas; there are so many uses this material could be put to. May I read your notes?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, though most of what’s in the journals was rendered obsolete by what we just did. I haven’t had time to write up the new approach.’

  ‘But you will?’ said Nyane.

  ‘Yeah, no problem, boss.’

  ‘I would still like to read about your earlier attempts,’ said Nadia. ‘Even the failures will tell me much about the process.’

  Ravi walked over to a desk and picked up a large pile of papers and folders.

  ‘Allow me,’ said Nyane’s father, taking the bundle from him. He glanced at his daughter. ‘Is it fine if we borrow these?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Nyane.

  He walked up to her, clutching the bundle to his chest.

  ‘Today,’ he whispered, ‘may have witnessed more than one breakthrough.’