by Juliet Kemp
Reb nodded. “Well, they tried to claim that they’d banished it again, but clearly they haven’t, if it’s been seen in Teren. And the way they froze like a rabbit when I mentioned it, and started babbling about the Academy – they were just trying to cover themself. I’ve no time for liars.“
“So you didn’t apprentice them?”
“I most certainly did not. I told them to bugger off and sort out the problem they’d left behind.”
“Well,” Marcia said, with relief, finishing off the second-to-last dumpling, “that should be done for them, as it happens.” If Reb hadn’t wanted anything to do with this sorcerer, then it didn’t matter what Marcia had said to Selene.
Reb frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
“When Captain Barcola mentioned it, I sent a message to Selene. The Teren Lieutenant?” Marcia added, as Reb’s frown deepened.
“I know who Selene is,” Reb said. “I met with her yesterday, if you recall. She wanted me – Cato and me – to look out for this sorcerer, if they came into Marek. Cato wasn’t keen, but… never mind. What do you mean, you sent her a message?”
“Captain Barcola told me where this sorcerer was staying,” Marcia said. “So I messaged Selene, telling her to look at the White Horse for a Teren sorcerer. Though I didn’t know at the time it was the right one. But it sounds like it is, which means that she owes me one.” Probably not enough of a tie to get Selene to back off as regards the Guilds, unfortunately.
“You handed over a sorcerer?”
“I passed on information,” Marcia said, scowling. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“She’ll take them back and kill them,” Reb said. “Feed them to the demon.”
“Then maybe they shouldn’t have raised it?” Marcia said, though she felt a bit sick. “It’s a Teren problem, not mine. And it means Selene owes me one, which is politically useful.”
“Sorcerers fall under the jurisdiction of the Group,” Reb said.
“But this is a Teren sorcerer, not a Marek one! You just turned them down as an apprentice.” Marcia felt annoyance rise. “And anyway, the Group is just you and Cato.” She immediately wished she hadn’t said that.
“It is what it is,” Reb said, her eyes narrowing. “And it has jurisdiction over sorcerers, and sorcery, of all sorts within Marek. It is not down to House Fereno to set Teren onto a sorcerer within Marek.”
“So if Teren had encountered them two miles down the road you wouldn’t mind what happened?” Marcia said. House Fereno indeed. They were operating on that level, were they now? “Reb, this is absurd. You don’t have jurisdiction over all information within Marek that bears on sorcery.”
“You set Teren on a sorcerer,” Reb said. Her cheeks were flushed dark now with anger. “Without consulting me. Or your brother, come to that.”
“Politics is my job, Reb,” Marcia said. “You’re being unreasonable. As you just said, I am Fereno-Heir, and I act for House Fereno. Of course I didn’t consult you. You wouldn’t consult me about a matter of sorcery that you thought might affect trade or politics, would you? I don’t understand what you expect.”
“I expect you to stay out of things you don’t understand!” Reb was on her feet now, and Marcia leapt to her own feet.
“You are being ridiculous…”
“What if I had apprenticed them?” Reb demanded, cutting over her. “I’d have an apprentice – someone I was sworn to protect – with the Lord Lieutenant hunting them across Marek. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t have a political impact, and it would be down to you!”
“Then you might just as well say that you should consult me before taking an apprentice,” Marcia retorted. Reb’s eyes flashed. “But it doesn’t matter, because you didn’t apprentice them. It’s a Teren sorcerer, it’s a Teren matter, and if they resolve it, then we here in Marek don’t have to do anything more about it. So I honestly can’t see what the problem is!”
“The problem is… Oh, never mind.” Reb grabbed the dumpling bowl from the table, turned and stomped across the room to the kitchen bench. “I’m tired. You’d better get the last ferry across the river.” She didn’t turn round.
Marcia looked at the set line of her back, and clenched her teeth. This wasn’t her fault. This was Reb, overreacting to something that didn’t need to matter at all. But Marcia was damned if she was going to put in the spadework to resolve this, or be the first to apologise. Reb was being unreasonable, and she could damn well think about it and step down.
“Fine,” she said, tightly, and slammed out of the front door. She fumed about Reb’s unreasonableness all the way across the river and up the cliff-path to House Fereno; whilst a tiny core of her hoped that the Teren sorcerer had managed to evade Selene’s guards. Whether or not they deserved it, fed to a demon didn’t sound like something she could wish on anyone.
k k
Asa was lying on Jonas’ bed, with the sheets half-covering them, as Jonas stood by the table, pouring a small carafe of wine into two clay cups. He’d fetched the wine up from the pub on the corner before Asa got here, for them to share together, but they’d gotten distracted before he could pour it.
He crossed over to the bed and handed Asa a cup as they sat up a bit against the wall. It had been a warm day, but the air coming through the open window was getting chilly. Jonas picked up the blanket off the floor before joining Asa on the bed, leaning against the wall to face them a little.
“Good health,” Asa said, catching his eye as they took a sip of the wine.
“Good health,” Jonas responded, remembering not to break eye contact ’til the toast was done.
Asa shifted on the bed, and looked away, their shoulders tensing slightly.
“So,” they said. “I was coming along through the docks today, and I saw Tam. And Tam pointed out to me a Salinas ship, called the Lion t’Riseri. I gather it’s been in for a day or so now.”
Jonas tried not to wince. He hadn’t yet mentioned the Lion, or his mother, or the upcoming dinner to Asa. He wasn’t sure why. Well, no, he was entirely sure why. He didn’t want Asa and his mother to meet, he didn’t want to go to the damn dinner himself, and he’d been desperately hoping some alternative would turn up so he didn’t have to deal with any of it.
He shouldn’t be surprised that this had caught up with him.
“Not being in a hurry,” Asa continued, their tone slightly pointed, “I stopped and had a chat with a couple of the crew. Apparently, the captain is here seeking out her son, who’s been living in Marek for a while. And she’s found him already, and spoken to him.”
“Yeah,” Jonas said. Couldn’t really avoid it any more. “The ship’s here, and my mother’s here.”
“You didn’t mention it?” Asa asked.
Jonas couldn’t quite read their tone. Were they angry? Tam had known, after all… he should have told Asa.
“I suppose I didn’t,” he said.
Asa shrugged. “It’s up to you, Jonas. But it feels like the sort of thing you might tell your friends.”
“Tam only knew because he happened to be there when she came in,” Jonas said.
“Whatever. I’m trying not to be hurt, because it’s not my business, really.”
“It is, though,” Jonas protested, without thinking about it.
Asa smiled at him, just a little, looking faintly reassured. “Well, I suppose I’d like for you to have mentioned it. That your mother – that your family, really, aren’t the crew that to you? – have come to find you.” They shifted round on the bed to face Jonas a bit more. “It sounded like they expect you to go back to Salina with them.”
Jonas sighed. “That’s what Mother wants.”
“Do you want to?” Asa asked. “You said, last month, that you were going to stay. But – ” they hesitated. “But perhaps you’ve changed your mind.”
Jonas set his wine cup down on the floor next to the bed, and pushed his hands into his hair. “I want to be here. I want to hang out with you, and I want to learn
sorcery from Cato,” or mostly he did, anyway. “But – Mother is quite forceful.”
“You’re an adult,” Asa said. “You don’t have to do what you’re told. It’s up to you whether you want to stay here.” They took a slug of wine. “Or not, obviously.”
Jonas looked down at his hands. “I suppose not. Except…” Except that nothing was ever that simple, was it? “You’re right, the crew are my family.” Or at least, ‘family’ was the nearest Marek equivalent to what a Salinas crew were to one another. “I grew up on the Lion, you know. I… miss them.”
Except that wasn’t quite right, either. It had become steadily harder, as he got older, to be on the Lion. Not the physical work; that he didn’t mind. What was harder was realising that his flickers were not quite right, something he had to hide. Something that made him not quite right.
He was hiding those here too, wasn’t he? Other than from Cato. Asa didn’t know. Nor Tam. Nor Marcia and Reb, although he didn’t exactly count them as friends.
Storm and angel, he was tired of hiding things.
“But?” Asa prompted. “It sounded like there was a but, there.”
“But I have friends here, too, and a chance to explore something about me that I can’t even think of at home,” Jonas said. “I don’t intend to be dragged back home, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Home, though. Salina was still home. Asa’s eyes flickered slightly, although they didn’t say anything. But of course Salina was home. He’d only been here a few months. Whether or not he stayed… it was comfortable here, and he liked it, but…
Asa shrugged, and Jonas pulled himself back to the conversation. The sheet fell off Asa a little more with the shrug, and Jonas tried not to get distracted by the smooth dark brown skin of their chest.
“Obviously I’d prefer you to stay here,” Asa said, their eyes affectionate. “But it’s your life, Jonas. I just – it would have been nice if you’d mentioned it, that’s all. And if you do change your mind, it would be nice if you mentioned that.”
“I’m not going to just leave without telling you,” Jonas said.
“Well,” Asa said. “Good.”
“Look,” Jonas said, realising that whether or not this was entirely a good idea, it was the best opportunity he’d get, and it was probably too late now to hope that something would happen to cancel the whole thing. “Mother wants me to come to dinner tomorrow, at the embassy, with Kia. Uh, the Ambassador. You know she was on the Lion, too?”
Asa nodded, a pin-scratch frown between their eyebrows.
“She, uh. She wanted you to come along, too.”
Asa’s eyes widened.
“Hang on. She knows about me?”
“She guessed I was seeing someone,” Jonas said. “So she said, I should invite them along.”
“Really? Are you sure this is a good idea? Do you want me to come along?”
Jonas nodded with a confidence that he didn’t entirely feel. He wasn’t even sure how he’d introduce Asa. ‘Seeing each other’, but… friend? Lover? Salinas relationships tended to be fluid unless and until you had a child together (and often beyond, come to that, but raising a child meant some kind of commitment, even if you never shared a bed again); Mareker relationships, as far as he could tell, tended to be less so, but he and Asa hadn’t really discussed it yet.
Now would probably be a good time to do so, but he couldn’t even think about trying to deal with that on top of everything else.
“You’ve left it fairly late to invite me,” Asa said.
Jonas pulled a face. “Yeah. Sorry. I was kind of hoping that Marek would slide into the sea and I wouldn’t have to go myself, to be honest. But I would like you to be there, if you want to come.”
“Well. If you’re sure.” Asa smiled, looking somewhere between pleased and worried. “What should I wear, though? I haven’t even anything Marek formal, never mind Salinas formal.” Messengers didn’t have enough ready cash to have extra, non-essential, clothes.
“I’d say stick with Marek,” Jonas said. “Uh. I could ask Marcia?” Mareker formal wasn’t any more gendered than Salinas was, so that could work. He’d been avoiding Marcia for ages. But if Asa was prepared to do this, then he could cope with asking Marcia a favour. He was pretty certain that she still owed him something after everything that happened at New-Year. Mid-Year. Whatever.
Or Cato might have something suitable, which would be a much easier conversation, but he wasn’t going to suggest that out loud. Asa was definitely nervous around Cato. He’d ask Cato, and pretend he’d asked Marcia, and it would all be fine.
Asa was looking unsure. “Marcia’s a rather different shape from me, up and down. And she’s shorter. And Marekhill. I mean…”
“Sure, I didn’t mean her stuff, but she’ll know how to get hold of something,” Jonas said. “Mareker stuff is fairly adjustable anyway, right?” Cato was closer to Asa’s shape and size, so that should be fine. “It’s my invitation, I’ll sort out something for you to wear,” he said, more firmly. “Honestly. It’s not a problem. I’ll skip work tomorrow and get it fixed.”
“All right,” Asa said, evidently still slightly reluctant. “But… Jonas, are you really sure?“
“Positive. It’s fine. I’ll sort something out, I promise, and you always look amazing, anyway.”
He leant in to kiss Asa, hand trailing down their arm, and Asa smiled and gestured assent as they too moved into the kiss.
He would sort something out. It would all be fine.
FOURTEEN
The trouble with having done what you might term a moonlight flit from the White Horse, albeit in the afternoon and leaving adequate payment behind, was that Tait had no guidance about where to find this Cato, other than ‘in the squats’. And then there was the possibility of being followed, or spotted, or…
It ought not to be that much of a risk, not really. You couldn’t reliably tell Teren from Marek folk by sight; Tait didn’t stand out that way. But if you were looking for someone of Tait’s specific description… Tait was taller than average, and they were gloomily aware that they didn’t move like a local, and they didn’t know their way around the city.
But what they could do was blend in with all Marek’s other visitors. It was a cosmopolitan city, and strangers were common. So Tait took a circuitous route over to the squats, wandering around and doing their best to look like any other visitor with no care in the world. They peered in shop windows and stopped in Marek Square to look at the carvings on the Guildhalls, each trying to outdo its neighbour, and at the weird architecture of the Salinas embassy, which was presumably trying to give a Salinas feel to a building that was basically Teren/Marek standard brick, and succeeded only in looking peculiar. They sat on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the Square for a while, trying to look relaxed and instead feeling hideously conspicuous. And finally, they meandered over Old Bridge and up the road to the edge of the squats.
They were slightly formidable buildings, five or six storeys high, and built in a single row with only occasional passageways through into the next parallel street, cut through the buildings with a single-storey height, so more rooms could be fitted in on top of them, and reminding Tait uncomfortably of tunnels.
“You looking for someone, mate?”
The lad who tapped Tait on the shoulder – giving them a very uncomfortable moment as they spun around, heart in mouth – had a friendly smile, and a red armband around one arm. That meant something, didn’t it? A messenger, was that right?
“I – uh – ”
“I’m Tam, mate. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve not seen you round here before, and you don’t look like you’re that clear where you’re going to. So – can I help? Where is it you’re after?”
“I don’t know the address,” Tait admitted.
“No address? Right. Got a name, then?”
“I’m Tait.”
“A name you’re looking for,” Tam said, patiently.
“Oh! U
m.” Tait thought for a moment, trying to work out if they should risk asking directly. Then again – what else were they going to do? Wander round in circles waiting for Cato to shoot sparks out of his window? “Cato. The sorcerer.”
Tam’s eyebrows went up. “You sure, mate?”
Tait swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure. I need to find him.”
“Well.” Tam sounded a bit dubious. “I can give you directions, but I’d look out for your stuff, if I were you. Keep your bag close, kind of thing. There’s some less friendly folk, up there, and it’s coming on to get dark.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tait said, feeling relief. Ordinary foot-pads they could deal with; they’d lived in a couple of very unsavoury parts of Ameten. And one of the things about blood-sorcery was you always had a nice sharp knife about your person.
Tam gave them detailed directions, took them to the right passage, and left them with a friendly wave, refusing the Marek penny Tait offered.
“Nah, I just like to help out where I can, you know? Less’n’ you’ve got a message you want delivered,” he shrugged the shoulder of the arm that wore the armband, “I’ll happily take for that.”
“Sadly not,” Tait said, and Tam grinned and turned to jog off back towards Old Bridge.
Tait squared their shoulders, made sure their bag was strapped tight to their chest, and set off towards Cato’s house. They only had to dissuade one potential footpad on the way, when they noticed someone coming fake-casually out of a doorway. Putting their hand to their knife and pulling it out, just a little, was enough for the person to hesitate and change direction.
Tait found the correct number on the fifth street away from the river, and went up to the first floor, where a large red painted C decorated the first door on this level. This was the place, then. Tait took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
It swung open.
“Come in, and keep your hands where I can see them,” someone called from inside the dimly lit room.
Cautiously, Tait advanced, blinking in the hope that their eyes would adjust faster to the half-dark. It was still daylight outside, but curtains had been pulled across the windows. There were a couple of candles lit by the bed that was opposite the door, and someone lounging on it, propped up with a couple of pillows. As Tait’s vision improved, they could see that the figure – Cato, presumably? – had his hands behind his head.