by Graeme Ing
We stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. The tempo of her breathing increased, and my gaze dropped to watch the rise and fall of her breasts under her thin, clean shirt. She flushed, and turned back to the stove.
She truly cared for me and that made my insides warm and fuzzy. It had been a long time since someone had worried about me getting hurt. I’d been hard on her. It wasn’t her fault she’d been paired up with me, and yet she handled it with superior grace than I. I’d never liked working with a partner at the Guild—except Kolta—but I shouldn’t take that out on her. She was strong, smart, and willing to get her hands dirty. What more could I want from an apprentice?
“I wish I knew how you did it,” I murmured. “The cling spirits, I mean. If you could learn to control them that could give us an edge.”
She handed me a steaming mug of mulip.
“I knew I could help somehow. Maybe I can teach you some things.” She winked.
She already had, but I wouldn’t admit it.
“You did good. Thanks for saving my life. Again.”
The boat rocked as someone stepped aboard. Footsteps thumped on the overhead deck. I tensed and reached for my dagger, realizing that it lay in my bed at the end of the hallway. Boots appeared at the top of the wooden ladder. Had Fortak’s men found us?
I pushed Ayla behind me and raised my fists, balancing on the balls of my feet. I could have used Targ right now. A dark shape jumped down the ladder and I rushed forward, shoving the intruder against the wall.
“What in bloody Lak’s name are you doing?” Kolta yelled, cowering, his breathing labored.
“What are you doing here? Couldn’t you have announced yourself?”
His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t think you’d attack me. Do you mind?”
He pushed lightly against my chest. I was totally in his face, so I backed down and gestured to the bench.
“Getting a little jumpy, aren’t we?” His eyes bulged from their sockets.
He scanned the scorch marks on my robe and the ash covering the floor.
“You’ve been up against the elemental again? I told you to lay low.”
He tossed me a new and folded robe. “Thought you might need a spare. Looks like I was right.”
I nodded and fingered the thick fabric.
He squeezed onto the bench. “Maldren, my boy, this is beyond serious. This thing is going to kill you. Leave the city, I implore you.”
“No,” Ayla and I said in unison.
“If I do, we won’t have a city left. Who else is going to save us? The masters?” I snorted. “Certainly not the Council. I was there at the beginning, Master, and I plan to be there at the end.”
Ayla handed him a mug of mulip. He thanked her and cupped it in both hands.
“On the subject of which,” he said, “Fortak returned from a summons to the High Council.”
“And?”
“And he’s mad about something.” He shook his head. “He struck Begara.”
I rubbed my nose. “That means they didn’t beg him for help. I wish they’d just give him his damn seat on the Council. At least then he’d dispel the elemental.”
“It might not be that simple. You heard what Phyxia said.”
I nodded. “He’s playing with fire.”
No one laughed.
I wish I’d heard everything that Phyxia had been saying when those wretched ghouls had so rudely interrupted.
“If he’s lost control of it…” Kolta broke off, frowning.
Ayla delivered bowls of bread and stew to the table.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m starving. Can we eat?”
“There’ll be more room on deck.” I moved aft to the ladder, juggling bowl and mug.
The day was warm though Solas dodged in and out of the swift-moving clouds. Wisps of smoke rose from the slopes of Kand Hill. Crowds lined the nearby wharves, every person hauling several bags, sacks, or chests, no doubt hoping to find passage. It broke my heart to see my people flee.
We ate in silence, sitting cross-legged in a circle, and I found the gentle rolling of the boat and the sigh of straining ropes relaxing. The whole of Boattown undulated gently, and I let my gaze drift across the flotsam and rotting hulks. I needed another chat with the Duke, but I knew that he had risked a lot telling me what he had, if Fortak had truly threatened him with a lochtar. Fortak had a reputation for paranoia, so it wasn’t a stretch that he had little trust in his own conspirators.
“I need to know more.”
“What?” Ayla asked.
I glanced at her. I hadn’t meant to voice my thoughts.
“Oh, I was thinking.”
“Uh-oh.” She smirked. “What trouble are we getting into now?”
“Out of the frying pan, into the fire.” It was an apt cliché. “It’s all or nothing for Fortak at this point. Now things get dangerous.”
Kolta nodded and wolfed down his breakfast.
“Bring the fight out of the slums…” I said.
“What?” Ayla and Kolta asked.
“They’d said that,” I murmured, then I snapped my fingers and sat bolt upright.
“Market Plaza.”
Kolta choked and sprayed food everywhere.
A dark cloud swallowed Solas, and a gloom settled over the city. A gust of chill wind blasted the deck.
“What about it?” Ayla asked.
“The coronation is only four days away,” I said.
Her spoon slipped out of her hand and clanged into her bowl, splashing gravy.
“Gods, no,” she said, voice breaking.
“Thousands will die,” I said. “Then Fortak will take command and be a hero.”
Assuming he could get rid of the elemental when the time came.
“That’s h-horrible,” she said. “Damn my father for being involved in this.”
“He made a mistake. That’s all. He was only thinking of your safety.”
“He’s right,” Kolta said. “Once the Guildmaster had you, your father was doomed.”
Her shoulders slumped. She put a hand to her forehead, pushing aside her bangs. Her face lost all its color.
“I did this to him. If I hadn’t gone to the Guild then he wouldn’t be in this mess.”
She resembled a small child right then. Just yesterday she’d been mad at him. Her relationship with her father mirrored mine with my mother. We wanted to be angry with them, but deep down our hearts burned with an undying love. I pulled Ayla to me and wrapped my arms around her. She pressed her face against my chest, despite the ash smeared over my robe. The warmth from her body spread into mine. I could imagine her pain. Kolta grinned. I scowled at him, cupped the back of her head with one hand, and stroked her hair with the other.
“He’s helping us now,” I whispered. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this.”
She nodded but remained in my arms. Kolta wiggled his eyebrows. Eventually, Ayla pulled away and sat with both knees up to her stomach. Her embrace had given me a new strength.
“I’ll make this right,” I told her.
Her eyes flashed. “No, I’ll right my father’s wrong. Don’t you dare push me away. We’re in this together, remember?”
I held up one hand defensively. “All right. Together.”
“Hmph.” She scrutinized me for a long moment and then stood. “I need a bath. Don’t plan anything without me.”
She stacked the breakfast bowls and took them below. I hadn’t finished but I wasn’t going to argue.
“Women,” Kolta muttered when she had descended. “Moods change in a moment. How do you put up with her?”
“She’s strong and independent. She’ll make a great necromancer.”
“I doubt Fortak intends to keep her in the Guild. Her only value was leverage with the Duke. Don’t get too comfy with her, my boy.”
“She has the talent. When she passes the initiation tests, her membership can’t be refused.”
“Then she’ll be only
the fourth woman in history to do so. Your mother was the last, but she was incredibly powerful.” He shuddered. “Scarily so.”
Kolta was scared of my mother? Interesting.
“Well, she spent enough time at the Guild,” I said. “More time than with me.”
Kolta tossed a piece of scrap wood. It splashed into the water between the adjacent boat and ours.
“She saved the city,” he said. “Don’t belittle such a selfless deed. I see her bravado and moral fiber in you. Her stubbornness too.”
He chuckled, but not before I spotted his wistful gaze. Had something gone on between them, or something he’d have liked to? Questions for another time.
“I ought to be more like you, Master. You were my inspiration. I learned everything from you, not her.”
I hadn’t been an easy student. I knew that. Many of the masters gave up on me, labeled me a troublemaker, but not Kolta. He nurtured me and became my greatest mentor until Phyxia. I let out a huge sigh. Here I was, looking back to him for guidance. My gut spasmed as if stabbed. How could Phyxia have betrayed me? So like Mother.
“Make peace with your mother. There’s much she would teach you. I know she’s proud of you.”
I was done talking. “I can’t afford to reminisce. I appreciate you dropping by but you should probably go.”
We stood and walked to the stern of the boat.
“It’s time Ayla and I moved out of Boattown. She deserves better than a rotting boat surrounded by garbage and hiding outlaws.”
He nodded. “Where will you go?”
“The owner of The Pumphouse owes me a favor.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder and then descended the plank to the next boat. It bowed and bounced under each step. It took him ages to scramble from vessel to vessel toward the shore. Solas emerged from the clouds and bathed the city in light.
Later that day, Ayla and I crossed the City Bridge into the Plaza District. The narrow streets, hemmed in by tenements, opened out into wide avenues. The stiff wind off the harbor brought only a whiff of salt, not the stench of fish offal or moldering grain that was a way of life in the eastern city. Boattown had added its own odor: rotten wood, seaweed, and garbage.
“The air smells fresher already,” Ayla said, breathing deep.
“More what you’re used to?”
She hefted her sack onto her other shoulder and hummed a melody. I’d not seen her so happy and relaxed for a long time. I snorted. Promise a woman a proper bed and take her shopping for new clothes, and life becomes easier all round.
There was another thing I’d noticed as we’d crossed from east to west. Back east, citizens hurried the streets and shied from any sign of smoke, even that of the thousands of chimneys they had lived below all their lives. On this side of the river, people held their heads high, dawdled and laughed in the streets.
If only they knew.
Preparations had already started for the coronation of the Crown Prince. Citizens climbed rickety ladders to hang banners and royal flags—huge sheets of linen that flapped noisily in the gusty wind, fighting against their rope ties. Almost every building had been decorated with bunches of purple feresens, and the Lamplighter Guild was out in force attaching baskets of the city’s adopted flower to every street lantern. Ayla paused and inhaled the sweet aroma. The sound of instruments being tuned filtered out of music halls. It was comforting to see at least some people in high spirits, but the difference in morale between east and west was stark.
I led us down Wall Street, stupidly named since there was no evidence that a wall had ever stood there. We arrived at a modest inn tucked tightly among artisan storefronts. The Pumphouse. The taproom was well lit, clean, and airy, and almost devoid of customers. Something I’d never see on my side of the city.
I greeted the barkeep, Lupan, with a nod, and strode to the long bar. He picked at his teeth and scowled. “What d’you want, corpse-lover?”
“That’s no way to treat the man who saved your inn. By rights I should be your partner, but I’ll settle for lodging.”
He leered at Ayla. “Yer whore’d better not be a screamer.”
Heat surged into my cheeks and my heart pounded. I leaned forward. “How dare—”
“I’ll be quiet as a mouse, m’lord,” Ayla said in a very believable slum voice. She slipped her arm through mine, grinning all the while.
I fought hard not to chuckle. “Two garret rooms, first sixday free.”
“I ain’t givin’ you rooms for free. They sell out fast, y’know.”
I glanced around the empty taproom. “Of course they do.”
He scraped his teeth for a long moment, then reached below the counter and brought out two tarnished keys.
“Now we’re even,” he said.
Halfway up the stairs, Ayla spluttered into laughter and gave her opinions on Lupan in the same lilting slum voice. I couldn’t help but laugh with her. We climbed five floors. The final stair was narrow, but in better condition than that of Mother B.’s. I told Ayla to settle in and then come by my room.
Larger than my old garret, this room even had a desk. First things first. I dragged the desk chair over to the window and sat to study the view. All I needed was a beer, but I wouldn’t get room service out of Lupan the way I had Mother B.
Across the river, warehouses crammed the banks from City Bridge to Heroes Bridge, after which the tenements of Eastside took over. I leaned out precariously until I could see Kand Hill far to my right. I shouldn’t have done that. Two black scars gouged its slopes, as if Lak himself had clawed the landscape. A grim reminder of the stakes.
A shout from a bargee drew my attention to the river below. I watched two men maneuver a barge heaped full of mine slag. I hadn’t realized The Pumphouse backed right onto the river.
My door clicked open and I turned as Ayla slipped inside and perched on the bed. She bounced once then lay down. I raised an eyebrow.
“Yours is softer than mine,” she said. “What’re we going to do? If you think coronation day is his plan, then we need one of our own.”
I let out a long sigh and clenched the arms of the chair. Time to be a good little boy and do what Mother had said about researching Caradan. She couldn’t have given me a larger clue if she’d shouted. Unfortunately, research meant returning to the Guild.
“What’re you thinking?” Ayla asked.
Mother was right about another thing too.
“I’m going to try and get the other masters on my side.”
“Can I come?”
“Not this time.”
She opened her mouth, but I was sure it was my glare that made her shut it again.
Once more, I hung from the crumbling chimneystacks of the Guild roof like a mubar monkey. I stretched my back and legs. My body had taken far too many beatings in the past few days. If I defeated the elemental—when I defeated it—I planned to soak in a hot bath from dawn to dusk with a crate of beer in hand.
I clattered down the steep tiles and grabbed hold of the rotten frame surrounding a skylight. They were never locked, and within moments I was inside, hanging from my arms and dropping the eight feet to the floor with a thud. I was in. The trouble was, I couldn’t get out the same way. I shrugged. No one said saving the city would be easy.
My eyes adjusted to the attic’s dim light and I peered at the stacks of junk and old furniture piled haphazardly. Some of it was protected by drapes but most stood in disrepair, nibbled by the rats and monkeys. Stark daylight poured through the skylight, illuminating a trillion motes of dust swirling in midair, disturbed and angry at my intrusion. My nose and throat tickled in the dry, musty air and I coughed. A dozen pairs of tiny eyes glittered in the shadows, blinking, watching.
I tiptoed to a set of crooked stairs choked with dust and cobwebs. Despite my care, the ancient steps creaked and complained, determined to warn the Guild of this intruder. At the bottom, I put my ear to the door. Silence. If Kolta had forgotten to unlock it, I would get awfully hungr
y up here. I turned the handle and pulled. Nothing. I tugged.
Kristach.
I yanked hard. The door popped open, tearing a chunk of the doorjamb with it. The damage wasn’t obvious as long as no one studied the door closely.
Since I knew every twist and turn of the Guild’s leagues of hallways, it didn’t take long to descend to the inhabited levels. I couldn't forget that Fortak would kill me if he found me here. I’d tried to hate the Guild and pretend that I didn’t miss it, but that was a lie.
Grateful that most Guild members were in class, I risked the quickest route, along the wide third-floor corridor we called Centerway. Dozens of hallways ran left and right, interspaced with life-size statues of famous masters. Each hallway was labeled, named after one creature or another. Some of my best tricks and capers had taken place on Centerway and, yes, there were the melted bricks on the corner of Lazoul Lane. My butt tingled as I passed. The worst caning I’d ever received.
I turned right and froze. Fortak stood less than ten feet away.
He stopped, eyes wide. He started to speak but doubled over coughing instead.
I spun and fled, sprinting headlong down Centerway.
“Get back here.”
No chance. I glanced over my shoulder. He hobbled after me, handkerchief to his mouth.
“Stop,” he yelled. “We need to talk, clear up this misunderstanding. Halt, damn you.”
I wouldn’t fall for that. I snaked through the corridors. There was no way he could catch me.
“Seekers, find Maldren and bring him to me,” was the last I heard before I hurtled down a long flight of stairs.
On the landing below, I careened into two students, knocking one down and sending their textbooks in all directions. I didn’t care who saw me now. Already the Seekers would have alerted the cepi, who would locate me in moments. I jumped the handrail, plunging six feet to the ground floor, to avoid a group of journeyman who had gathered at the base of the stairs. They cheered and egged me on. I had two choices: outside or the library. Both would evade the cepi. I hesitated.
Two of the creatures emerged from a nearby wall, twittering as they spotted me. Batlike, their wings beat faster than the eye could see, so they resembled a hazy, blurring shape with tiny antennae and luminous green eyes. Two more materialized out of the floor.