by Jasmine Walt
“It’s all right,” Janta said, noting my dismay. “I’ll help you.”
Slowly and patiently, she helped me translate the text. I was able to read every fourth word or so, and between the two of us, I worked out what the encyclopedia said. Some of it I already knew from Iannis – gulayas were anchored to the location where they had first been activated, and the wearer could use them to teleport back to that location so long as the gulaya was charged. They would activate on command, or in some cases automatically if the wearer were in deadly peril. The encyclopedia cited a mage who had been carried back to the nursery at the age of seven by a gulaya, when a grizzly bear was about to bite her head off. However, several centuries ago, gulayas had gone out of fashion because charging them required a two-day ritual after each use, and a single mistake in the execution of said ritual meant you had to redo the whole damned thing. Even worse, the ritual involved a rare plant called grusia that only grew in a mountainous area located between Sandia and Garai, and its sale and export were illegal in most countries.
“Why is it illegal?” I asked Janta.
“Because grusia is more commonly used in death spells,” Janta explained. “Mostly by witches, of course, as they tend to rely on plants for their magic more than we mages do. The Federation banned the plant nearly three hundred years ago, when the Minister at that time was assassinated through a death spell that involved grusia.”
“Makes sense.” I shuddered a little. “I didn’t know death spells were a thing.” I mean, maybe in the back of my mind I knew it was possible, but I’d never really thought about it.
Janta smiled a little. “I’m afraid you’ll find out that all sorts of things are possible with magic, both good and bad.” She turned away, gesturing for me to follow her. “Come. We have several old gulayas in the library’s artifacts collection that I can show you.”
She led me to a back room lined with shelves filled with containers of varying shapes and sizes. They were all carefully labeled, but when I tried to read some of them, I found, to my frustration, that the labels were written in Loranian. Dammit. I really was going to have to master the language sooner rather than later.
Humming a cheerful tune under her breath, Janta scanned the shelves until she found a long, rectangular metal box. As she touched it, runes flared to life, glowing bright blue and red. I squinted against the glare, my eyes having adjusted to the dim interior of the library, while Janta murmured a few Words. There was a loud click, and the runes faded as the container unlocked.
“Here we go,” Janta said, carrying the box to a table in the center of the room. She opened it and pulled out a smaller box from within labeled “Gulayas”. Inside were seven of the silver, star-shaped charms, most of them as big as my palm, but some of them smaller.
“Oh, this is terrible,” Janta cried as I laid the last one on the table. She was scanning a long piece of paper. “One of the gulayas is missing!”
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” I murmured, picking up each piece in turn and examining it. They smelled like magic, but very faintly, as if only traces remained. But one of them, a small one that was little larger than a gold coin, smelled more strongly than the rest. Was there a chance that it might still be charged? How long did it take for a gulaya’s charge to wear off naturally?
“What do you mean, you are not surprised?” the librarian asked, suspicion clouding her voice. “Nobody is supposed to have access without one of my staff.”
“As I mentioned earlier, I encountered one of these on my rescue mission,” I told her. “Argon Chartis used it to escape when we found out he was allied with the Resistance, and it’s entirely possible he stole it from this very library when he was still Director at the Mages Guild.” I held up the small gulaya. “I need to take this one to Lord Iannis. It might be able to help us with something we’re looking into.”
“Yes, of course.” The librarian had her hand pressed to her cheek, still shocked. “You’ll need to sign the check-out log.”
I did as she asked, then pocketed the borrowed gulaya and strode out of the library. I had no intention of giving the gulaya to Iannis – I was keeping it for myself, at least for a little bit. With the bright red target the Resistance had painted on my back, any ace in my sleeve was welcome. I just hoped that the gulaya, if it was in fact still active, would not whisk me all the way to Garai or some other place overseas where I did not know the language. But then again, any place was probably safer than where I was now.
5
I hurried back to the Mages Guild, intent on cornering Iannis and getting him to give me a useful assignment. But just as I was passing through the reception area, Dira, the front desk receptionist, called my name.
“Miss Baine, there’s a message for you. From an Enforcer Annia Melcott.”
I paused, then veered toward the desk. If Annia was calling me here, it had to be important. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been in a fog of grief over Noria’s decision to join the Resistance, bitter and utterly defeated. I hoped she wasn’t about to do something rash. “What’s the message?”
Dira frowned, reading the message she’d scrawled down when she received the note. “She asked if you could please meet her at your mutual friend’s house. And that it was urgent.”
“Thanks.” I nodded, then hurried down the hall, heading for the finance office. As I half-expected, most of the finance department’s desks were empty, and the few people who were busy at their desks were mages, with the exception of one elderly human accountant. I couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped me. Was everyone deserting us?
Noria did.
Pushing that thought out of my head, I veered left, toward the Finance Secretary’s office, and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Sunaya Baine.”
There was a pause. “Come in,” he said eventually.
I pushed open the door, then closed it behind me. Cirin Garidano, Solantha’s Secretary of Finance, was more striking and fashionable than the other mages of his stature. Like Iannis, he tended to dress in robes that flattered his broad shoulders and tall frame, and he wore his black hair long, far past his shoulders. Dark, piercing blue eyes were narrowed in concentration as he tapped out a report on his typewriter with long fingers that flew across the keys. I felt my approaching heat more strongly at the sight of a handsome male, but firmly pushed the sensation away.
“Isn’t typing reports something you delegate to a lackey?” I asked, leaning my hip against the door.
He glanced up at me, a faintly annoyed expression on his face. “In case you haven’t noticed, Miss Baine, we are in short supply of lackeys at the moment. Did you come in here to criticize my office?”
“No,” I admitted, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I came here because I need to borrow a car.”
His dark eyebrows winged up. “And what makes you think I’m in a position to help you? The Mages Guild doesn’t use cars.”
I rolled my eyes. “Give me a break. I spend enough time around this joint that I can afford to do a little snooping.” My ability to wear illusions was a big help in sneaking into restricted areas, too. “You’ve got a garage full of them.” I smirked a little at the surprise in Cirin’s eyes. “Guess you mages aren’t so averse to technology after all, are you?”
“We mages, Miss Baine, and not as much as we used to be,” he admitted in a cool voice. “After all, we use telephones, typewriters, and dirigibles, don’t we?”
“And apparently vehicles.”
“They are for emergency use only,” Cirin warned. “After realizing how much of an advantage technology has given humans, Lord Iannis has authorized, and even encouraged, the use of technology in the Guild, though not everyone is in favor of such innovation. Vehicles aren’t the only things he’s collected… but we’ve yet to publicly use them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on. It’ll be okay. I know how to drive. It’s not like you guys painted the Mages Guild emblems on y
our vehicles, have you?”
When Cirin didn’t respond, I groaned. “Seriously?”
“They wouldn’t be official vehicles if we didn’t,” Cirin pointed out. “We had it done recently.”
That explained why I didn’t remember seeing it. “Fine. Then give me a can of paint so I can cover it up. Just let me borrow a vehicle. I can’t go running around on foot with the Resistance out to kill me.”
Cirin sighed. “I can’t give you a car,” he told me. “But there is another kind of vehicle I can give you.”
I perked up. “Oh?”
“This is bullshit,” I grumbled to myself as I pedaled up one of the many very long, very steep hills that Solantha was known for. I was halfway to the Port now, pushing the bicycle the Finance Secretary had bestowed upon me as fast as I could. But even though I had extra-strong muscles as a shifter, they weren’t used to bike riding, and certainly not over long distances with steep hills. A dull ache was starting up in my quads, and it was only going to get worse from here.
At least you’re getting a workout.
I snorted. Yeah, like I really needed one. By Magorah, but I missed my steambike. I wished like hell I’d been able to recover it from Turain, but Danrian’s cronies had probably sold it off to a chop shop weeks ago. I was never going to see my baby again.
You could probably convince Iannis to replace it for you, a little voice murmured in my head. I clenched my jaw at that idea. I was too proud to ask for that kind of gift from Iannis. I was already living in his Palace and eating his food, wasn’t I? I wasn’t going to ask him for money I hadn’t earned on top of it.
No, when this was over and I could start earning money as an enforcer again, I’d buy myself another bike. For now, I had to deal with this hand-me-down. It was one of the bikes the guards used to circle the perimeter during their rounds, and since the guards were conspicuously absent, there was an abundance of bicycles available.
Eventually, I made it to the Port, and I cruised down the boulevard, studying the row of large, stone boathouses that marked the entrance to each pier. The smell of burnt wood still lingered in the air, and I could see wreckage floating in the water – leftovers from the attempted ship robbery the apprentice had mentioned last night.
I finally came to Witches End, and I skidded to a stop as I noticed the entrance to the pier had been barricaded, and was guarded by two stout shopkeepers bearing cudgels. Cautiously, I got off my bike and approached them.
“Hey,” I said, adopting the voice of the acne-covered teenage boy I was pretending to be. “What’s going on?”
The shopkeepers closed ranks, glowering down at me. “This area is off-limits to all humans and shifters,” the one on the left growled in a thick Pernian accent that was much deeper than Comenius’s. I recognized him as Caradin, a magical bladesmith who’d set up shop at the Port about a year ago. I’d been eyeing his wares for a while now, but hadn’t managed to scrape up the coin to buy any as yet. The man next to him was his son. I’d bet those cudgels they wielded were capable of more than breaking bones and causing concussions.
“Look,” I said, lifting my hand. Fire crackled in my palm, and the two jumped, startled. “I’m not a human. Comenius is a friend of mine, and he called me over here. Can you just let me in to see him? I promise I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“How do we know you’re not using a charm to produce that flame?” Caradin demanded.
I rolled my eyes and lifted my arms overhead. “Search me then, if you’re so suspicious.”
“She’s not, Da.” The son’s eyes glowed an eerie blue as he stared at me, and I had a feeling he was searching me. “She is wearing charms, and an illusion of sorts, but both fire and illusion are being produced by her.”
“She?” Caradin demanded, and I tensed. I wasn’t prepared to drop my illusion, not in broad daylight.
“Da, just let it go,” the man hissed.
They shared a long look, then Caradin sighed. “Very well. You may pass.” He moved his big bulk out of the path. “But if you try to blow up any shops, I’ll have your head.” He lifted his cudgel, and I gaped as it morphed into a short sword right before my eyes.
“Damn,” I muttered as I turned away. I’ve gotta get me one of those.
I walked my bike up the pier, noticing that all the shops were boarded up now. This was likely in response to the skirmish that went down by the Port last night. I couldn’t blame the shop owners for being cautious – I would have done the same – but it still made me sad to see the usually thriving shops battened down. It felt like they were huddling close together, bracing for a storm.
A storm that was already in full swing.
Com’s place was boarded up as well, so I trotted up the side staircase and knocked on the entrance to his apartment. Since he was the only close mutual friend Annia and I had, I figured she had to be here.
The door opened, revealing Comenius. His ash-blond hair was messy, and there were bags under his eyes, as though he’d risen from a sleepless night and hadn’t bothered to brush his hair.
“It’s me,” I said, using my normal voice, though I didn’t drop my teenage-boy disguise.
“Come in, come in,” he said hurriedly, waving me inside. He shut the door behind me and double-locked it. I stared at the two strangers sitting on his couch. One was a tall, lean man in his thirties wearing dark sunglasses and a leather jacket, and the other a petite blonde dressed head to toe in denim.
And they both smelled strongly of magic.
“It’s us, Naya.” Annia’s voice came out of the blonde, and I started. “Annia and Elnos.”
“Elnos?” I swung my gaze back to her companion and goggled. The man I stared at looked nothing like the fresh-faced, gangly young mage who was Noria’s boyfriend. “Why the hell are you two disguised like this? What’s going on?”
“The two of them have decided to infiltrate the Resistance,” Comenius said from behind me. I turned to see him standing near the small, round dining table, arms crossed and an uncharacteristic glower on his handsome features. “Something I am in complete disagreement with, by the way.”
Sighing, I turned back to face Annia. She might have been wearing a different guise, but the steely look of determination in her eyes was all her. “I’d ask why you’re doing this, but I already know. You two are going to try and get Noria back, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Elnos answered, his voice hard. “By force, if necessary. She has gotten in way over her head.”
“We’re going to try to persuade her first, though,” Annia added.
I snorted. “Do you really think persuasion is going to work at this stage of the game?”
Annia opened her mouth, but Elnos beat her too it. “No,” he said glumly. “She won’t listen to reason at this point, and we don’t have time to convince her. We need to get her out before the Resistance is defeated, and she is killed.”
“You seem pretty convinced of that,” I commented. Not that I disagreed, but I was interested in hearing his reasoning.
Elnos nodded, his expression grave. “Modern humans and shifters have no idea what cornered mages are truly capable of. The mage community has not been forced to use the full extent of its powers since the Conflict, and neither human nor shifter memory is that long. The Resistance and their supporters think that between their superior firepower, greater numbers and the handful of magic users they’ve recruited to their side, they have what it takes to successfully overthrow the Federation government. However, offensive and defensive magic is still very much a part of every apprentice’s curriculum. We have lethal spells that can wipe out entire armies if they’re not set up to properly defend. These spells are currently forbidden, but if the Resistance continues their provocations, that is going to change.”
I paled at that. “So you’re saying that, if it came down to it, the Federation could just send a group of mages to wherever Noria’s at and wipe out her entire camp?”
Elnos nodded. “Easily. The
Federation has refrained from such action because they did not consider the Resistance a large enough threat, and also because they know the kind of public-relations nightmare indiscriminate mass killings would cause. But they will only exercise restraint for so long. This is why I’ve always pleaded for peaceful and voluntary reform. I kept hoping that if I had enough time, I could convince Noria to change her outlook.” He sighed, his stern expression crumpling with sadness. “But I failed, and now I must get her back before it is too late.”
I nodded slowly, impressed with Elnos’s maturity, then went over and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “All right. What can I do to help you guys?”
“I need some assistance with our disguises,” Elnos admitted, a little sheepishly. He gestured to Annia, who pushed her sleeve back to reveal a bracelet with a single charm hanging from it. “I created a charm for Annia’s disguise, in case we get separated. While I believe the look itself is solid, I haven’t quite gotten the hang of masking her scent, since my own nose is not sensitive. There will be shifters at the camps, and since she has already infiltrated a Resistance camp with you and Fenris, there is always the chance someone might recognize her scent. Not to mention that we need to disguise the scent of my magic, or the Resistance will know for sure that we’re not two rebel humans running off from our homes to join the fight.”
“Yeah, you’ll definitely want to mask that.” Sitting down on the couch between them, I guided Elnos through the necessary steps required to change their scents. It was interesting, that I was teaching a full-blooded mage how to direct his magic in a specific way, when I’d only just learned this trick myself a few months ago. Iannis had mentioned that my sensitivity to scents must be why I had such an aptitude for disguising them – it was a talent that usually took a long time to master. I wondered what other types of magic my shifter heritage might give me an advantage in, but I filed that question away for later.
“Okay, you two should be good now.”
“Thanks.” Sighing, Annia leaned her head back against the couch, then eyed me. “You know, it’s a little weird to hear your voice coming out of a teenage boy’s mouth.”