Mageborn

by Stephen Aryan

  “Grell, and whoever he works for, are intent on spreading fear and hatred. Anyone with magic could soon find themselves driven out of town or worse. A golden mask might protect a Seeker’s identity, but right now it makes them a target.”

  “You’re worried that people here will attack the Seeker next week,” said Cobb, sitting down on the bridge. Feeling that she was already looming over him, Tammy sat down next to him and he smiled at the gesture. Despite having only one good eye, he saw plenty.

  “If people like Grell continue spreading hatred of anyone who’s different, then I think it’s possible.” Yerskania had always taken pride in trading with every other nation in the world. She could walk down the streets of Perizzi and see faces from Zecorria to Morrinow to the desert kingdoms. “This intolerance is a sickness. If it’s left to fester it can poison good people.”

  “I will speak to the people here. Find out what they really think.”

  Tammy looked around and still lowered her voice before speaking. “Don’t test the children next week. The Red Tower has said you should stay safe and hidden for now.”

  What most people in Morby Dale didn’t know was that, as well as being the Mayor, Cobb was also the local Seeker. No one raised an eyebrow when he made regular trips to other villages in the area. In fact it was expected. As far as they knew he was speaking to other Mayors, not testing the children for magic.

  “Do you want to see the sum total of my magic?” he asked. Tammy was going to say no, but there was something in Cobb’s voice that changed her mind.

  “Yes.”

  Cobb leaned over the side of the bridge and gestured at the water below. As she watched the surface of the trickling stream slowed and then began to part around a patch of ice that had formed. The pebble-sized ball of ice was held in place for a moment and then Cobb’s shoulders slumped. With that it slipped free of its mooring and floated away. It began to break apart almost immediately and in the warm sun it would be gone in moments.

  “Not even my wife knows,” said Cobb. “Not because I don’t trust her, but once someone finds out they always look at you differently. If I’d told people what I can do, I would never have been allowed into the Watch, never been injured, and never come here. They would never have made me the Mayor and I wouldn’t have a wife and two beautiful daughters.”

  Cobb looked despondent, staring into the distance, perhaps wondering how his life would have turned out if he’d gone to the Red Tower as a youth.

  It made Tammy wonder where she would have ended up if her husband was still alive. Would she still be working for Don Lowell in Perizzi? Would she have been running one of the Families by now, instead of working as a Guardian?

  “Although I’m worried about the children, I will bury the mask,” he said, coming back to the present. “Perhaps in time, people’s attitudes towards magic will change.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Tammy, feeling some of Cobb’s melancholy rub off on her. She had regrets as well but it was too late to change the past. All she could do was try to keep moving forward and hope to leave her old life far behind.

  “Enough brooding. Let’s go and get something to eat. Are you hungry?” he said, forcing a smile.

  “I could eat, but then I’ll be heading back to Perizzi.”

  “What about your prisoner?”

  “He knows a lot more about what’s going on than he pretends. Once I get him back to Unity Hall, and he sees the cells, he’ll talk. It’s a long road and I’ll need all my strength to cope with Grell and his mouth on the way.”

  Cobb offered her a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps you could gag him?” he suggested. She shared a smile with him as they set off towards the tavern.

  It was still warm under the trees in the sun, but Tammy shivered despite herself. She was worried about what was coming and if they would be able to stop it before someone else was murdered.

  CHAPTER 20

  Groaning with effort, Munroe pulled Denke a little higher as he was slumping towards the street again. She had one arm around his waist and the other gripping his blood-slicked hand over her shoulder. He moaned in pain but didn’t cry out. She admired Denke’s grit, less so his faith in the people of Rojenne. After all, they had just tried to kill him for being a Seeker.

  “Just a little further,” she murmured, although she’d been saying that for a while. Not for the first time in her life, Munroe regretted being a little on the short side. Denke wasn’t a big man but he was at least twice her weight. Sweat had already soaked her shirt from the short walk and the muscles in her shoulders and arms were burning. He couldn’t walk and she wouldn’t be able to carry him much further without some help. The crowd were not pursuing them yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before someone followed.

  Glancing around, she checked the street and then embraced the Source. Using a steady trickle of power Munroe shored up Denke, easing most of his weight off her shoulders. To an outsider it still looked as if she were carrying him, but now they were walking more quickly and his feet were barely touching the floor. Gritting her teeth against the pressure she scanned the streets for what she needed.

  On purpose she’d taken them away from the busier streets and nicer areas, descending into a more run-down part of the city. Rojenne wasn’t big compared to Perizzi, the capital, but even here she knew where to find a certain type of person.

  Munroe turned down narrower streets and eventually came to a neighbourhood where a lot of the shops were closed and boarded up. There were a few legitimate businesses struggling to survive, a baker’s, a couple of drinking holes and a butcher’s selling questionable meat. She went past all of them without stopping but could feel a few sets of eyes following her progress with keen interest. Eventually Munroe spotted what she was after. A teenage boy lurking on a corner, doing nothing, or so it seemed. When he noticed her watching he slunk away and she followed at a sedate pace. Beside her Denke murmured something as he drifted in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t make out the words and didn’t know if he was asking her to do something important or was just rambling. Either way it wasn’t a good sign.

  Holding onto the Source made the power thrum inside Munroe, but it also heightened her senses. Tilting her head to one side she followed the quiet patter of the boy’s feet. She’d gone down two streets and along a narrow alley, walking sideways with Denke, before she stopped at a crossroads.

  A broad man with a shaven head stood waiting for her with his beefy arms crossed. The boy lurked behind him. From the look of the thug’s face someone had used it to test their fists over a period of many years. His nose was a broken, scarred mess. One ear was gone, probably torn off, and the other stuck out in a comical fashion, twisted and gnarled like a piece of cauliflower. However, despite his rough exterior she noticed that his cool, calculating eyes were watching her closely. They flickered once to Denke before settling back on her.

  “What do you need?” asked the thug, his gravelly voice so deep she could almost feel it in her bones.

  “Doctor.”

  “Show me your coin.”

  Moving carefully, so as not to rip open the wound in Denke’s side any further, she lowered him to the ground. His eyes fluttered and then stayed closed. As she stood up Munroe’s back cracked and she winced. The thug hadn’t moved but now she saw one hand drop to his belt which made her smile. He was smarter than he looked. Despite her size, he hadn’t underestimated her and still regarded her as a serious threat. It would be a shame if she had to kill him.

  “No need for any trouble,” she said, offering him a smile before throwing her money. His eyes never left her face but he caught the pouch and weighed it before tossing it over his shoulder to the boy.

  “A bit of silver, couple of gold,” said the boy and the thug slightly relaxed.

  “Who runs your crew?” asked Munroe.

  “Cannok. You know him?”

  “No. Have the Families extended down here?”

  The thug raised an eyebrow.
“You work for one of them?”

  “Used to. Don Jarrow.”

  Whether he was impressed or not it didn’t show on his battered face. “Bring him,” he said, gesturing at Denke. With a pretend grunt of effort Munroe lifted him up again, noting the patch of blood on the street where he’d been sitting.

  “I’m Munroe.” She didn’t think the thug was going to answer but he seemed to be weighing something up. Eventually he bobbed his head.

  “Tok,” he said, shoving the boy ahead.

  “Just Tok?” she asked, making conversation as she followed him down a small side street.

  “It’s short for Tok-ram-Gara,” chirped the boy.

  “Shut up, Eel,” said Tok.

  After that neither of them were willing to talk and Munroe focused on carrying Denke. She was still sweating a little, but not as much as before. Nevertheless she made sure to grunt every now and then from the apparent effort of carrying a dead weight.

  A short time later they came to a boarded-up building that looked very much like those neighbouring it. The only difference she could see was a small painted symbol, a triangle with an open eye at its centre. Tok knocked on the wooden shell and waited. One of the boards opened to reveal a sturdy door and behind it a scarred Morrin.

  Like all of her kind the woman on the door had impenetrable yellow eyes, a slightly wedge-shaped face and pointed ears. Her white skin was marbled with seams of blue and her uniformly black hair suggested she wasn’t that old. Morrin were a hardy race that, if left unmolested, could live for two hundred years or more. If things didn’t go well in the next few minutes Munroe might have to test the limits of her endurance.

  “Is Doctor Silver in?” asked Tok.

  The Morrin just grunted. “Bring them. Get lost, Eel.” Words seemed to be at a premium for the Morrin, who stared at the boy until he rolled his eyes and shuffled off.

  Inside the old shop Munroe had expected to find dust and grime. Instead it was a warm, homely room decorated with lots of overlapping colourful rugs on the floor. Bright watercolours of forests and the sea hung on the walls and a tidy kitchen sat off to one side. A wide set of stairs in the middle of the room led down into the basement. It felt more like someone’s home than a surgery. The Morrin sat down on the chair beside the door, immobile and silent. Apparently her job consisted solely of opening the door.

  Tok gestured at the basement stairs and she raised an eyebrow, shuffling Denke again, and remembering to wince in pain. Not all of it was fake as her arms and shoulders were still hurting. Moving with care, Tok gently picked up Denke and carried him down the stairs.

  “Such a gentleman,” she murmured, earning a brief smile.

  In the basement three beds sat off to one side, but only one of them was occupied by a man with bandages around his torso. Asleep in a chair beside him was an elderly woman with long wavy grey hair and a deeply lined face.

  “Patient for you, Doctor,” said Tok, setting Denke down on one of the empty beds. The doctor came awake, blinking rapidly.

  “Out of the way, oaf. Wait upstairs,” said Silver, shooing everyone away. “You, girl. You can stay. I’ll need another pair of hands.”

  “All right. What do I need to do?” asked Munroe.

  “Start by telling me what happened,” said Silver, cutting off Denke’s shirt and then slowly peeling the cloth away from the wound in his side.

  “Angry mob. They threw some rotten fruit and then it turned nasty. Someone knifed him in the side.”

  “That explains this,” said Silver, picking a bit of tomato out of Denke’s hair. When his shirt was clear of the wound she hissed and shook her head. “Hold him steady, I need to see if they’ve nicked anything.”

  Munroe held Denke by the shoulders while Doctor Silver forced her fingers into the wound. He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness but now his eyes flashed open. A scream began to build up somewhere in his chest. Before it had time to emerge Denke’s eyes rolled up and he collapsed, limbs dangling loose.

  “He’s not dead,” said Silver, wiping her hands on a towel before taking a long metal spike from a nearby table. It was tapered at one end and seemed to be hollow. “Just passed out from the pain.”

  “What are you going to do with that?” said Munroe, as Silver picked up a small hammer.

  “If you’re squeamish, I suggest you wait upstairs,” said the doctor, positioning the metal spike against Denke’s side. Munroe wasn’t bothered by a bit of gore, but she needed a chance to sit down and collect her thoughts. She’d been so focused on helping Denke that she hadn’t considered her next move if successful.

  “I’ll wait upstairs,” said Munroe, excusing herself.

  It should have been so easy. She’d found Denke before he spoke to the crowd but much like the others he’d insisted on testing the children. Thankfully he had not intended to reveal his identity if they rejected his offer of continued help. As it happened he’d barely made it onto the stage before the gathered crowd tried to chase him out of the city with rotten fruit and the promise of violence. Denke was lucky she’d been there to spirit him away from the mob before they beat and stabbed him to death.

  On the ground floor Tok was sitting on one of the tall stools in the kitchen area. Across the room the Morrin remained by the door, saying nothing, doing nothing. For once silence suited Munroe. She flopped down on one of the stools beside Tok and rested her head on the table for a moment.

  A rough hand shook her shoulder and she came awake to find Tok and another man waiting. There was a faint pulse in her head, the echo of pain, but it quickly faded. The newcomer was dressed in colourful silks and had long black hair and an immaculate oiled beard. The dark-skinned man seemed completely at ease, his green eyes sparkling with humour as he watched her wake up. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but she had the feeling it could quickly fade. Rarely had Munroe seen a man so pretty and so aware of it.

  “Cannok?”

  “Yes, indeed,” he said, accepting a mug of something from Tok who moved to stand behind the boss off to one side. The message was clear. It was them against her.

  “I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes. I’m not representing anyone or getting into anything. My friend and I just got into a bit of trouble. Once the doctor patches him up, we’ll be on our way.”

  Munroe didn’t want to get dragged into the underworld politics of Rojenne. At the same time, however, she wasn’t about to bow down and kiss Cannok’s boots. He might be the equivalent of a Don in these parts, but she’d left all that behind and owed him nothing. And, besides, she was so much more than what she used to be. She never had to bow down to anyone in her life ever again.

  “Where did you come from?” asked Cannok.

  “South. A village not far away.”

  “Lie,” said a new voice. Turning on her stool Munroe saw a tall teenage girl, all awkward elbows and big knees. Munroe embraced the Source and extended her senses towards the girl. It was just as she thought. The faint pulse wasn’t a pending headache but an echo of power coming from the girl. Judging by her bored expression Munroe was confident the girl had no idea she had a Talent or that she wasn’t the only one in the room with magic. In a peculiar way, she reminded Munroe of herself at the same age. Full of vinegar, with a sour mouth and a know-it-all attitude.

  The girl was twisting a strand of her hair around her finger over and over. Keen to test her theory that the girl was able to tell when someone was lying, a cruel thought occurred.

  “You know, if you do that all day, your hair will end up greasy,” commented Munroe. The girl stared at her and then let go of her hair with a grimace. A wry smile crept across Munroe’s face as she turned back to face Cannok.

  “Let’s try that again. Where did you come from?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not staying,” said Munroe, waiting for Cannok to tell her otherwise. To her surprise he didn’t. Instead, a frown briefly creased his forehead.

  “You’re not afra
id, are you?”

  “No. I can walk out of this room any time I want. There’s nothing anyone here could do to stop me.”

  Cannok glanced over her shoulder at the girl and the jovial spark in his eyes faded. He probably thought she was mad or well connected to be so confident. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. A mob took offence at my friend and now I need to get him out of the city.”

  “Is this going to bring trouble for my people?”

  “No.”

  “Lie,” said the girl once again.

  Munroe sighed. “If the people in this room can keep their mouths shut, then it will be fine. There’ll be no trouble for you. If someone finds out I’m here, there might be.”

  The girl remained silent and Cannok relaxed his clenched jaw. “Did anyone else see her?” he asked Tok.

  “Just the boy, Eel,” said the big man.

  Cannok rolled his eyes. “Dox, go and find Eel. Tell him not to speak to anyone until I find him. Sit on him if you have to, but keep him silent.”

  “Why do I have to go?” whined the girl.

  Cannok’s less than friendly stare settled on her. “Dox, if you don’t go right now, I will make you very, very sorry.”

  Without having Dox’s Talent they all knew he wasn’t lying. The girl hurried out of the door without any more lip. Cannok ran a hand across his face, suddenly looking tired and annoyed. “Can you at least tell me what happened, so I’m not in the dark?”

  “I will if you give me a mug of something,” promised Munroe.

  The crime boss laughed and gestured for Tok to fetch her a drink. In the basement she could hear Doctor Silver shuffling about, muttering to herself, and two other people breathing. One of them was quiet, as if asleep, and the other had a peculiar whistle, probably from having a giant spike driven into their chest. At least Denke was alive for the time being.

  “Have you heard about some of the recent trouble with Seekers?” asked Munroe, accepting the mug of ale from Tok. The big man’s expression hadn’t changed but she sensed he was revising his previous opinion of her. She was far more dangerous than even he realised.