The big man glanced at his boss and this time he answered. “It’s like you said. He’s the only crime boss in the city. He doesn’t even pay that well.”
“Well, you’re in charge now.”
Tok raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
“Sure. Why not?” asked Munroe.
“I’m not sure they’ll follow my orders.”
“Let’s see if anyone objects to my suggestion,” said Munroe, looking at the others in the room who were either injured or unconscious. All of them were glaring at her but said nothing. “There, you see, it’s settled. Besides, you’ve got better instincts than these idiots,” she said, including Cannok and the others in her scowl. Doctor Silver chuckled and sat back in her chair, enjoying the show.
“So, Don Tok-ram-Gara of Rojenne. My friend is in Doctor Silver’s care, which I’ve paid for. Now all I want to do is leave here and finish my work so that I can go home to my family. Do I need to worry about my friend?”
“No,” replied the big man, without hesitation. “He’ll be well cared for and then sent home. His secret is also safe. You have my word.”
“Excellent,” said Munroe, offering her hand to the new crime boss. He paused, glanced at her nervously in case she did something with her magic, but then shook it gently. “I’m not going to have a reason to come back here, am I?”
“I certainly hope not,” said Tok and she grinned at him.
Cannok had been embarrassed in front of his people and his power usurped in a matter of minutes. Although he was unable to speak he could still move. As Munroe was pondering what to do with him, Cannok grabbed a dagger from Tok’s belt and launched himself at her across the table. She reacted without thinking, bringing her old power to bear on the former crime boss. There was a loud crack and he screamed before collapsing face down on the table. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. It crept across the wooden surface before pattering on the floor. His sightless eyes stared at her, accusing and angry.
Part of her wanted to apologise, to say that he’d given her no choice, but Munroe bit her tongue and had to work hard to keep her expression neutral. Showing compassion at such a time wouldn’t help her. It would be seen as weakness and it might erode their fear. Taking a deep breath, she stared down at Cannok without compassion and then lifted her eyes to Tok.
“Do we have a problem?”
The big man shook his head but didn’t reply. Doctor Silver wasn’t smiling any more but she did have a slightly smug expression. Cannok had been far less popular with his own people than he realised. Everyone was now staring at her and she could smell their fear. Magic like Dox’s was seen as useful and it was so slight it didn’t really count in their minds. She’d just given them a glimpse of real magic and, in doing so, confirmed all of their worst fears.
Munroe crossed the room, walking on the backs of those pinned to the floor before pausing at the door. With a flick of her hand she released them and they started rolling about, groaning and gasping for air. No one would look her in the eye any more.
“I’ve left you a little reminder,” she said to those recovering on the floor. “If you ever think about trying to get even for this embarrassment, or perhaps to seek revenge, look there.”
Everyone in the room stared at their former boss and she hoped that had quelled any thoughts of retaliation. With a final wink at Tok, Munroe went out of the door, one step closer to going home.
CHAPTER 26
Wren stared at the runes on the back of the door, trying to find a pattern amid the writhing chaos. They continued to squirm, but the motion no longer gave her a headache. It had at the beginning, but she’d been staring at them for quite some time. She wasn’t sure how long. It must have been at least a few hours.
Wren was aware that she was in one of the hospital rooms inside the Red Tower, but she couldn’t remember how she got here. Looking herself over, she couldn’t see any blood or obvious wounds. Her memory loss must be the reason why she was here. It was the only logical explanation.
If the symbols would just stop moving she might be able to decipher them. It had to be some kind of ancient language but Wren didn’t recognise a single letter. Nothing even looked vaguely similar. Without a key it would be extremely difficult to decode, but she was determined. There wasn’t anything else to do.
Glancing at the wall behind her she noticed the light was slightly muted. From around the edges of her door she could see a soft blue glow from the lanterns filled with mage light. That meant it must be night-time. The man who wandered the hallways in sandals always briefly stopped outside every room and she felt a brief surge of power as he embraced the Source. Wren had seen others create mage lights so often she was confident she could do the same. It would just take a bit of practice.
As she embraced the Source and drew power into herself, the glyphs on the door flared to light, glowing orange in response. The more power she drew the brighter the runes became, changing in colour from orange to ruby-red. The glow was so intense that she could still see them through her eyelids when she closed her eyes. A different kind of headache began to form at the back of her skull. Tendrils of pain began to stretch out and as soon as she tried to channel any power she felt a jolt of energy run through her entire body.
Wren woke up lying face down on the floor in the middle of her room. The symbols on the door were black again, but they continued to twitch and squirm as if alive.
The door opened and Master Yettle came in. For such a slight man he was surprisingly strong as he lifted Wren off the floor and helped her settle back on the bed. She felt a pleasant warmth envelope her whole body, starting at the back of her head, easing away the pain, before spreading down her torso and along her limbs. She felt safe and her eyelids drooped shut.
When she woke up next Master Yettle was sitting on a chair reading a book at the foot of her bed. The door to her room stood open and beyond she could see the corridor. The peculiar wall behind her was bright with golden light, suggesting it was already morning.
“What time is it?” asked Wren.
“Breakfast time. You’ve slept for most of a day and a night. How do you feel?”
“I feel fine. Why am I in the hospital this time?”
“What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”
She was about to say being asleep in the dormitory when she remembered the fight with Brunwal. Her heart began to race, a groan escaped her lips and she started scratching at the skin on her arms, looking for where the black mote had burned her flesh. She’d felt its corruption seeping into her bloodstream, even though it hadn’t directly touched her bare skin.
“You’re safe,” said Master Yettle. “The inversion is gone.”
“What was it?” said Wren, remembering the swirling darkness Brunwal had summoned. To use the Source to create something so grotesque and tainted felt like the worst sin a mage could commit.
“Something forbidden. I don’t know how he learned about it.”
Part of her didn’t want to ask but she had to know. “Is he . . . dead?”
Master Yettle’s sad smile told her everything. “There was nothing we could do to help him. It was too late.”
“What’s going to happen to me now?”
“Well, that depends on my assessment. The Grey Council wants to speak to you about what happened, but they’re not allowed until I’ve declared you healthy.”
She had thought all the teachers deferred to the Grey Council in every matter. It made her smile to think of Garvey trying to bully his way in here, only to be turned aside by the calm and kind face of Master Yettle.
“Do you feel well enough to talk about what happened?”
Part of her was tempted to say no and hide a bit longer, but more time wouldn’t change the facts. Even though it had been in self-defence, she had killed another student.
Once, Wren had seen a murderer passing through her town on his way for trial. He’d seemed so ordinary and unassuming. It had been
so difficult for her to bring together in her mind the terrible things that had been done to the victims with the quiet, affable man she’d seen. He was nothing like she’d expected. There’d been no malice in his expression or outward sign of the evil that lurked within. Even after, when they’d found him covered in blood and entrails, he’d not changed into a snarling lunatic. Whatever passion or rage had consumed him in that moment was gone. He’d remained calm, polite and happy to oblige. It was as if nothing unusual had happened.
Her father had told her that such an event changed a person. Sometimes the changes were slight and at other times it was as if something inside had snapped and could never be mended. Over time their outside transformed to match the new person within they saw when looking in the mirror.
Wren wondered what she would see when she looked in the mirror. Would there be a new version of herself staring back? Was there something festering inside her that would grow over time and remake her in its image?
“I can’t hide in here for ever,” said Wren, shaking her head in a vain attempt to dislodge thoughts of what she might become.
“How much do you remember?”
“Everything. Do you want me to tell you what happened?”
“There’s no need,” said Master Yettle. “We’ve spoken to the other students who were there. I just needed to know if your memory was impaired. Sometimes the mind can obscure such a traumatic event to protect itself.”
There would be no hiding for her, within or without. She would have to look at herself and other people in the eye and cope with whatever happened next.
“Do you remember how you came here?” he asked, gesturing at the room.
“I was in the dormitory and people were screaming and crying. Then I remember a sense of falling. I was lying somewhere and I overheard part of an argument between Master Garvey and Master Balfruss. They both seemed so angry. Was that recently? Did that actually happen?”
“Anything else?” said Master Yettle, avoiding all of her questions.
Wren closed her eyes, trying to recall what had happened after that but there was nothing. Just darkness and silence. A featureless void in her thoughts.
“The next thing I remember is being in this room.”
“If you’re feeling hungry, I’ll have some breakfast brought to you.”
“Thank you, Master Yettle.” Wren didn’t know how she could feel hungry after what had happened but her stomach was growling. “Why did he choose me?”
That wasn’t what she wanted to ask but the other question wouldn’t come easily. Master Yettle could see she was struggling with something. He sat back and waited patiently for her to find the courage. Finally she managed to blurt it out. “What will I become?”
“I don’t know,” he said. Much to her surprise he’d not offered her platitudes or false hope about the future. Such honesty was refreshing, although it did sting. Wren didn’t notice she was crying until tears began to drip off her chin. More than anything she wished her father was there to console her. He would have known exactly the right thing to say and make her laugh. But she’d said goodbye to him, perhaps for the last time, and was on her own. “I won’t lie and say this won’t change you,” said Master Yettle. “It must and it will change you over time, but how it changes you is the real unknown. That depends on you, Wren. Can I offer you one piece of advice?”
“Please.” At this moment Wren needed something to hold on to. She felt adrift. She wanted nothing more than for Master Yettle to put his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be all right. But he was not her father and she was no longer a child.
If she were still at home in Drassia she would be regarded as a woman. Society would treat her with the same respect and responsibility as any other woman, no matter their age.
For all of the good that came from it, Wren knew there was a loss of innocence. She had seen a friend of hers set apart from other girls, unable to play any more. Childish antics and temper tantrums were no longer tolerated. Even though she was only a few months older than Wren, her friend was expected to remain indoors at work.
If she were still in Drassia by now Wren would have been given responsibilities by her mother. The future was rigid and set. Now, she felt like a child once more, cut off from everything familiar that might guide her through such a murky time. She had no idea what might happen tomorrow, never mind a week or a year from now. For a time such freedom had been exhilarating, but now it was starting to terrify her.
“Be honest with yourself,” said Master Yettle.
“I don’t understand,” replied Wren.
Master Yettle stared at the far wall as if he could see through it but it was clear his mind had travelled elsewhere. “As the days pass, and you think over what happened, don’t shy away from anything. Let yourself feel all of it. If you lie to yourself, if you censure parts of it, then you will suffer. I can mend a broken bone. I can heal bruises and cure diseases, but I cannot heal your mind. Only you can do that.”
After breakfast Wren spent the rest of the morning alone, thinking on her future. Master Yettle had left the door to her room open but she didn’t try to step outside. There was no point. Right now she needed to be away from other people.
A few hours later there was a loud commotion in the corridor followed by the sound of raised voices. Just as she was getting up to investigate Garvey came into the room. A second behind him came Balfruss, who tried to pull the other Sorcerer out of the room by the shoulder, but Garvey shook him off.
“Are you well, girl? Can you answer a few questions?”
“Leave her be, Garvey,” said Balfruss. “We don’t have to do this now.”
“Time is the one thing we lack,” snarled Garvey. As soon as they set foot in the room Wren felt the familiar thrum of power echoing in her mind. Both men had such strong connections to the Source it felt as if she had a second pulse. It was so intense it thumped against her temples as if someone was tapping her on the side of the head.
“Gentlemen,” said the calm voice of Master Yettle. The tension eased with his presence, but there was still some friction between the two Sorcerers. “I said you could speak to Wren, but only when she had recovered.”
“She looks fine to me,” said Garvey.
Master Yettle ignored both men and came into the room, standing at the foot of Wren’s bed, blocking her view of them. “Do you feel well enough to talk, or shall I send them away?”
Wren was confident Garvey would argue again but much to her surprise he remained silent. Part of her would have liked nothing better than to see him dismissed and sent away like an errant child. It would serve him right, but it would also be petty and childish of her. She might not be in Drassia any longer but she couldn’t pretend to be a girl any more.
“I’m happy to speak with them.”
“Keep it brief,” said Master Yettle, looking directly at Garvey. “She still needs some rest.” The healer waited until Garvey agreed before stepping aside and letting them further into the room.
“Can you tell us what happened last night?” asked Balfruss. “Take us through the events from the beginning.”
Speaking slowly and trying to keep her voice calm, Wren laid out what had happened. She started with Brunwal’s unprovoked attack on her the first night and what had happened when next they’d duelled in the dormitory. Even though she hadn’t mentioned going to visit Garvey for advice, Balfruss seemed to know as he glared at the other Sorcerer. Garvey said nothing and merely listened, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Wren was unable to read anything from his body language but she could feel constant waves of rage radiating from him. It seemed to be seeping from every pore in his body. Something truly awful must have happened to him in the past to make him so bitter and angry all the time.
Eventually she spoke about her final confrontation with Brunwal. Balfruss gently questioned her about what he had summoned and the effects.
“I’ve never seen anything like it before. It
was horrific. A festering darkness that smelled awful. A few people were physically sick just from being near it. I looked into the weave and what I saw made no sense.”
“You did what?” asked Garvey, exchanging a quick look with Balfruss.
“I tried to understand what he’d done and how, but there was an absence. Normally everything created from the Source is filled with light and colour. Beads and diamonds on translucent threads. Glowing embers in a pattern made of light. By comparison what he’d made was just a void filled with darkness and despair.”
“Can you always see how something is created with magic?” asked Balfruss.
Wren shrugged. “As long as I’m able to focus and I have a little time. Why? Is that normal?”
Again both Sorcerers said nothing but a silent message seemed to pass between them.
“What happened next?” asked Balfruss, dodging her question.
“I wrapped Brunwal in a shield, trapping the thing inside with him. I thought he would dispel it but he didn’t, or he couldn’t, and it consumed him.” Wren’s stomach flipped over as she thought about the noises he’d made as the first black mote touched his skin. The smell of his burning flesh seemed lodged in her nose.
“Do you regret what you did?” asked Garvey, earning another glare from Balfruss, but he ignored it. From the way he asked the question he made it sound as if she had been the perpetrator and not the victim.
“He wanted to kill me. I would have died if I’d not fought back. I didn’t have a choice.”
“We know that,” said Balfruss. “Master Garvey didn’t mean to make it sound like an accusation.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“No, we brought you here as a precaution. So that Master Yettle could make sure you weren’t injured.”
“You heard her. She had no choice. It was self-defence. We’re done here.” Garvey pushed away from the wall, ready to leave, but Balfruss didn’t move.
“Why didn’t you come to one of us for help?” he asked.
Garvey slowly turned around until they were both watching her very closely. She wanted to tell Balfruss the truth about everything that had happened, but she couldn’t say it with Garvey standing in the room. It was as if he knew what she was thinking as a sly smile crept across his face, daring her to say something against him. It would be her word, as a new student, against that of a respected teacher and member of the Grey Council.
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