A Young Man Without Magic (20 page)

“That's enough of that!” someone shouted from somewhere to the north. Anrel turned.

Lord Neriam was walking across the square, with a line of a dozen of the city's watchmen moving ahead of him, pressing the crowd back.

And what's more, it was obvious from the magistrate's expression that he had recognized Anrel.

So much for any hope of anonymity. Anrel had gambled, and he had lost. How seriously his crime would be taken remained to be seen, but he was now a known criminal.

“Lord Allutar's lackeys are coming to silence me,” Anrel called. “In a moment I'll be gone—but remember what I've told you! Remember, the Grand Council is yours! It represents
you
, the people of the empire! Not the sorcerers or the emperor or any mere
part
of the empire, but
all
of you! Don't let them tell you otherwise! Don't let them choose
for
you! It's
yours
!”

“Get down from there!” one of the watchmen bellowed.

“Why should he?” someone in the crowd shouted back.

“Let him speak!”

Anrel had no intention of speaking any further, though—he had done what he set out to do, and it was time to get down and see if he could get away unscathed. What would become of him he did not know, but staying here could only mean disaster. Still, he hesitated, watching to see what would happen. Would the watchmen try to force their way into the crowd? There were twelve of them, with Lord Neriam's sorcery supporting them, against several hundred citizens of every age, sex, and condition.

“Step aside!”

Then someone shoved one of the watchmen, and a truncheon swung, aimed at a bare head but striking only a shoulder. Blades appeared—and to Anrel's surprise, not only in the watchmen's hands.

“Alvos! This way!” someone called up to him.

He turned to see a woman beckoning to him. He took one final glance at the line of watchmen—now not so much a line as a huddle—and the mob that was encircling them, and then jumped down from his place on the First Emperor's foot, to the plinth and then to the surrounding pavement, where several hands quickly grasped his own hands, arms, and coat. He found himself being hustled away by a score of people who seemed to know what they were doing. He put up no resistance, but let himself be led away.

Before he was able to see clearly where he was, he had been pushed through a door, which had then slammed shut behind him; he was in a narrow corridor, and a woman in a red bonnet and white blouse was pulling him toward a stairway leading up.

“Hurry,” she said. “The watchmen may have been too busy to see where you went, but their spies will know.”

“Where is this?” Anrel asked.

“It's a way out, nothing more,” she said. “Up here, then across, and out through the back garden.”

Anrel glanced back at the closed door. He could hear shouting, but could make out no words.

“Hurry!” the woman repeated, and Anrel yielded, rushing up the stairs.

They climbed three flights in all, then ran through an empty room and out through a tall casement onto a narrow balcony. At the woman's urging Anrel leapt from it to an adjoining balcony, one building north; there he found an open window leading back inside, and made his way back down to ground level, where an unlocked door let him out into a surprisingly large and well-kept garden. A brick walkway led him to the back gate, where he lifted the latch and slipped out into a quiet alleyway.

The shouting from Aulix Square had not abated with his escape. Indeed, it had escalated to screaming, and as he stood by the garden gate he heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

It would seem he had started something a little more violent than he had intended. He had thought the crowd of listeners would disperse when the watchmen arrived, and the entire affair would be a minor incident, but from the sound it seemed he had started a riot, with the
crowds fighting the watchmen vigorously. He tried to decide whether he regretted that, and concluded that he probably did not. This would make his appearance that much more memorable; his words, his attempt to sum up Valin's most important political position in a single brief speech, were more likely to be remembered and spread this way.

Of course, it might also mean that the authorities would take it that much more seriously, making his own escape more difficult, but those mysterious people who had rushed him out of Aulix Square had given him a good start.

He wondered who they were. Had they improvised their actions on the spot, or were they an organization of some sort, prepared for such eventualities as slipping a man out of the square mere yards ahead of the city watch?

He might never know, and it didn't really matter. He had done his part, made good on his promise, and he was done with politics. It was time to leave.

He turned and trotted down the alley, looking for a way out of Naith.

Anrel was not entirely surprised, upon reaching the city's northeastern gate, to discover that the portcullis had been lowered, and the guards were questioning all travelers before allowing them in or out through the narrow postern. Had his little speech gone as he had expected, and resulted in little more than gossip and a few shouted insults, Anrel doubted that anyone would have bothered with such measures. Since he had apparently started a good-sized riot, though, the magistrates were taking matters more seriously.

This did complicate his situation. If he tried to walk out, even giving a false name and fabricated background, they would almost certainly see that he matched the description of the rabble-rousing speaker—brown velvet coat, fawn breeches, broad-brimmed hat. He needed to change his appearance, or find another way out.

Discarding his hat would be simple enough, though he hated to lose it—it was a good hat. The coat and breeches would be more difficult to disguise; a man without a coat would stand out even more than one in brown velvet.

Better, then, if he could find another way out of the town.

That woman who had shown him the back way out of Aulix Square—might she know a way out of Naith? Or might someone be able to provide him with a change of clothing?

In Lume he would have known where to go; there was a row of
shops in the Catseye district, just outside the Pensioners' Quarter, where the merchants were known for their discretion. They would sell the same item, whether a frock coat or a letter of introduction or a sound dagger, for either of two prices—a low one for those who could afford nothing more, or a much higher one that would come with the certainty that they would tell neither the city watch nor the Emperor's Watch anything, should they be questioned. While these businesses dealt primarily with Lume's more unsavory inhabitants, students sometimes had reason to shop there, as well, and Anrel had on occasion seen one nobleman or another, usually wrapped in a cloak and with his hat pulled down, hurrying along that block.

Anrel supposed that Naith must have something similar, but he had no idea where it might be.

One of the guards at the gate was looking at him, and Anrel realized he had been standing in the same place, staring at the postern, for a minute or so. He waved, and turned away.

He was a good half mile from Aulix Square, but he could still hear the shouting of many voices—the disturbance was continuing, and had perhaps even spread. He had not anticipated that. He had expected a few people to argue with the watchmen, perhaps, but no more. He had thought anyone who took his words seriously would digest them, then go peaceably about their business until the election.

A full-fledged riot had come as a complete surprise.

As the noise continued, he found it more distressing. Yes, he wanted his words—or Valin's words—to be remembered, but if this went on people would be hurt, property destroyed, to no purpose. He did not want that.

He was not sure what he
did
want. He did not really think that the empire would be improved if the sorcerers lost their exclusive hold on power; the injustices and abuses of authority came about because the rulers were human, not because they were sorcerers. He had made his speech to give voice to his dead friend's beliefs, not his own. He did not really care who was elected or appointed to the Grand Council, or what they might do once the council met, but Valin had cared, or at least had claimed to.

Lord Allutar had cared enough to silence Valin permanently. Anrel had done his best to ensure that did the landgrave no good, and in so doing had, beyond any reasonable doubt, branded himself a criminal. Despite the false name he had used, he knew he had not gone unrecognized. Even if Lord Neriam had somehow failed to identify him, which seemed vanishingly unlikely, or if the magistrate took a blow to the head in the rioting that knocked Anrel's name from his lips, many of Valin's friends had seen Anrel and heard that name in the wine garden a few days before, and many of them had undoubtedly been in the square today, listening to Alvos.

He had expected that when he planned his little adventure, of course. He had thought they might keep the information to themselves, out of sympathy to Valin's cause, but that was when he assumed he was just someone making a foolish speech. Now that he was the instigator of a riot, a preacher of sedition, it seemed likely that someone would inform the authorities of his actual identity.

Until he knew more of what was being said and done he did not dare go home to Alzur, nor could he stay in Naith. He had to get out of the city somehow, and then get well away as quickly as he could—probably out of the province. Lord Allutar could not very well pursue him into Kerdery or Demerren. If he could remain free for a few days, until the initial excitement had passed, he thought he would be able to manage a quiet return to his uncle's home, but first he had to survive those few days.

Now that he took a moment to think, he knew where he should go. His most sensible destination was Lume. It was the only place in the empire he knew well enough to hide in effectively, and in that seething mass of humanity, who would notice one more face? He could presume upon the hospitality of some of his friends in the student courts and write Lord Dorias a letter to let his uncle know he was well. If he could find some way to receive a message, Uncle Dorias could tell him when it was safe to go home.

Or it might not be necessary to go so far as Lume; perhaps a few miles up the road he might find a refuge that would shelter him until the furor subsided. He could stop at an inn, and talk to a few travelers;
he had more than enough money in his purse to cover his expenses for several days. If Naith calmed quickly he could return without going all the way to Lume.

But first he had to get out of Naith. Trying to hide here, where he knew only a handful of people and none of them well, was foolish. He had no idea how thorough the city watch might be in trying to find the man who had incited the riots, but their efforts might well be more thorough than he could elude.

Getting out of the city undetected, however, presented a challenge. None of the five gates was likely to serve—if this one was closed and guarded, they presumably all were. Still, while Naith was a big enough town to have a real city wall, unlike Alzur's symbolic iron pale, that wall was relatively small, nothing like the massive and magnificent ramparts surrounding Lume. Anrel thought there should be some way out of the city other than through the gates.

The obvious possibility was the canal. Naith was built on hills, not on a river, but there was a barge canal two or three miles long that stepped its way down the hillside and linked the city to the Raish River, near where the Raish flowed into the Galdin. Anrel had only seen the canal from a distance, but he knew it existed, and that barges unloaded inside the city walls. That meant there had to be a way for those barges to pass in and out.

He took a moment to orient himself, estimating where the confluence of the Raish and Galdin would be, and where the canal would presumably be. Then he turned and began making his way in that direction, wishing he knew the winding streets better.

Half an hour later he stood on the canal wall below the city ramparts, looking down at the water gate. Dodging watchmen had delayed him, and he had made a few wrong turns, but he had eventually found it.

The gate was well below street level; there were three locks, each with its elaborate framework of doors and spillways, one after another, between the basin where barges unloaded and the city wall. Altogether the three locks dropped barges a good thirty feet, perhaps more, below the surrounding surface; the water gate through which the canal passed
was not really a gate so much as a tunnel through the city wall. This steep descent was necessary because the city stood well above the surrounding terrain; while the walls were perhaps fifteen or twenty feet high on the inside, the exterior of this portion was a sheer drop of at least fifty. That height required a thick, solid structure to support it, and a barrier that thick required a tunnel.

There was no way Anrel could see to climb down to the tunnel, nor was there any towpath to walk on. He supposed one might dive into the canal, and then swim out—if one knew how to make so long a dive safely, and could swim well enough, which Anrel did not and could not. He could swim after a fashion, but making his way through that tunnel, especially fully dressed, was not something he cared to attempt.

But if he could get onto a barge . . .

The hard part would be getting a barge crew to cooperate. He knew a sorcerer could have compelled obedience with a simple spell, and even made the bargemen forget afterward that he had ever been there, but Anrel was no sorcerer. His unsuccessful attempt to save Valin's life had been the first time he had tried to use magic since he had failed the trial when he was twelve, and had shown him anew the limits of his ability. Yes, he
could
sense magic and draw the energy into himself from either earth or sky, despite the lies he had told everyone after his parents died, but he could not
use
it. He was utterly untrained, and had no idea how he might go about ensorceling anyone.