The Fire Mages (20 page)

“So,” I said, “do you want to top up your vessel?”

“I—” He sighed. “Kyra, I’m not sure. All the rituals—”

“Are so much pigshit,” I said. “You don’t need them. Look.” I strode across to the pillar and placed both hands on it. At once the energy fizzed into me, and I laughed out loud for sheer joy. It lasted only a few seconds this time, for it wasn’t long since my last renewal. I turned to Cal. “See? Perfectly safe, and not an incantation to be heard.”

Still he hesitated. “Will you do it with me? Both of us holding the vessel?”

“Are you sure? I mean, maybe it was my fault it went wrong before.” Then, a sudden thought. “May I hold it?”

“Why? I mean, what are you going to do?”

“I thought perhaps I could see inside it, see if there’s anything wrong with it.”

“It’s me that the problem, Kyra,” he said, then shrugged. “But why not?”

He dragged the leather thong over his head and pulled the vessel out of its velvet jacket, handing it to me without a word.

At first I just held it by the thong, trying to feel the magic in it with my mind, without success. It was too small a power source, I suppose. So I took the stone in my hand. Then I could feel the magic, but there was also something else – a deep gash, almost cutting it in two. From the outside it looked perfect, but inside the vessel was damaged.

I handed it back. “It has a flaw in it, deep inside. I think that’s why it won’t work now, it can only hold half the energy.”

“Oh.” His face was a mixture of relief and frustration. “You mean – it’s not my fault? It’s the stone? But then it’s broken – and it can’t be fixed.”

“It still works, doesn’t it?” I said. “It just needs topping up more often.” I pointed to the pillar.

“How can I do this by myself?”

It was a good point. It only worked with two hands on the pillar. “How does it work the first time – your initiation?”

“That takes lots of mages. There were ten for mine. There’s a lot of stuff first – you know, the incantations, the rituals. Then everyone joins together in a long line, with the new mage and vessel somewhere in the middle. Then each end of the line touches the pillar. Having so many people – it dilutes the experience. There isn’t all that – well, touchy business afterwards.”

“Sex, you mean?”

He laughed. “Yes, sex. Then you see if the mage got any power in the new vessel. If so, there’s a proper renewal a ten-sun later.”

“And if not?”

He was silent.

“Oh.” I’d heard rumours of what happened to failed mages, but I’d hoped they weren’t true.

“So,” he said, “will you help me with this?”

“I think it’s better if we find a way for you to do it yourself. If I’m involved, I might divert the energy into myself and that’s not what you want. Why don’t you just wear the vessel round your neck, touching your skin, and then place two hands on the pillar.”

“It’s odd, the way it works with you,” he said slowly, his head tilted on one side as he looked at me appraisingly. “You don’t need a vessel, it’s like you
are
a vessel.” Then his mood changed abruptly. “Right, I’m going to do this.”

He hung the stone on its thong around his neck, tucking it inside his tunic and undershirt so that it rested against his skin. Then he stood in front of the pillar, flexing his hands, his face deep in concentration. He took a deep breath, then slammed his hands against the pillar.

I could see at once that it was working. He threw his head back and howled, then gasped, breathing raggedly. For an age he stood motionless, and then, with a slight moan, he withdrew his hands. He laughed, turning to me with a triumphant expression.

“It worked! No incantations – that’s all moon-water, isn’t it? Touching it – that’s all it takes.”

“And your vessel?”

He pulled it out, holding it in his hand, considering. “Still not the usual amount, but noticeably more than before. I’ll keep it in its little case, I think. Preserve what power it has.”

He drew me into his arms and kissed me for a long time. There wasn’t the usual post-renewal fire, but we made love anyway and it was good.

After that, we met almost every sun. It suited him to meet late in the morning, for he had mage business before that, so we went into the Imperial City and explored a bit, and then to my house for the noon board before retiring to the bedroom. We were back at the Keep then in time for any evening festivities.

I loved those long, languid afternoons. Sometimes we just lay in bed, curled up together. Other times, we rooted through the big closets trying on the clothes and jewelry that still lay there, as good as new. The clothes all seemed to be designed for a warmer climate – delicate silks and lace, soft cottons and taffetas. We couldn’t work out which were for men and which for women. The jewelry was more interesting: tiny pearls sewn onto strips of lace or threaded onto narrow chains, gold and silver and bronze, great jade pendants, some even sewn onto belts.

We talked about everything under the moon, with no secrets. He told me a great deal about his mage training, although I hadn’t asked him to. Perhaps he felt I ought to know something of mage discipline. It was interesting, but not much help to me. My own magic was very different from the mages with their vessels.

I hardly saw Drei. Most mornings now he was up before I was, and I rarely saw him again until bedtime. Occasionally we were both invited to some function or other, but otherwise I was left to my own devices. He never told me exactly what he was doing, even when I asked, and he never bothered to ask what I was doing. So I never had to confess to my little affair with Cal.

I wasn’t tormented by guilt. I knew I was doing nothing illegal, so I didn’t agonise over it. I suspected that Drei wouldn’t see it that way and I was glad I didn’t have to tell him, but who I slept with was my choice to make. My only obligation was to sleep with Drei whenever he wanted, and I was doing that. He had nothing to complain about there. Besides, my drusse contract was almost at an end, and after that I could be with Cal. If I chose to, of course.

I wasn’t really sure yet what I wanted, or where I wanted to be. I was torn. The logical part of me insisted that I’d be better going back to Ardamurkan to begin rebuilding my life. Another part of me altogether was drawn irresistibly to the Imperial City. And yet another part wanted to be wherever Cal was. I wouldn’t say I was falling in love with him, exactly, but he was tender and affectionate, and how could I help responding to that? I was content, at least.

But then everything began to go wrong.

~~~~~

The first disaster was Marras. I’d almost forgotten about our helpful scholar at the library, as it was so long since I’d been there, but then she started sending me strange little notes. Did I want any information from the library? Could she run any errands for me? And – most worrying – was I all right, and would I like her to visit? I put her off as best I could, but it was unsettling. I supposed she’d noticed we weren’t going to the library any more – well, I wasn’t, I had no idea whether Drei was – and was trying discreetly to find out what was going on.

Then one morning as Cal and I were walking up the main street in the Imperial City, I felt something.

I stopped dead. “A bird. There’s a bird coming.”

“What? But why? How? That’s not supposed to happen, is it?”

“No. We’ve been inspected already, why would it come back?”

“Maybe it’s not for us,” he said.

Slowly, we turned round. And there she was, Marras, skulking behind a statue, trying to hide and not making a good job of it.

“What are you doing?” I yelled, running back down the street towards her. “Why are you here? Were you following us?”

“Please don’t be angry!” she said. “I was just curious. I saw you disappear into the wall one sun, so I’ve been watching... Oh please, don’t hurt me!”

Then she shrieked as the bird arrived, and circled round us. The creature dived low over our heads, and Cal gasped and grabbed my hand. Marras fell to the ground, screaming over and over.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I whispered to her.

Cal and I clung to each other, but there was nothing we could do for poor Marras. She was only a scholar, she had no magic to protect her, and there was nowhere to hide. She screamed and ran and ducked and flailed about, but there was no escape. The bird swooped down and grasped her shoulders in its wickedly long talons, and with a few powerful sweeps of its wings created a rush of wind as it took off. Then it winked out of existence still carrying Marras, her last scream cut off precipitously.

Cal and I stood clutching each other, shaking. I was crying, I discovered.

“What shall we do?” My voice trembled.

“Nothing,” he said in a whisper. “She’s gone. There’s nothing we can do. We can’t tell anyone, can we? She’ll be missed eventually, and they’ll work out what happened.”

We were sombre that sun. We wandered about aimlessly for an hour or two, hardly aware of where we were, both of us disturbed by what had happened. We couldn’t have prevented it, but still we felt some guilt. If we had been more careful, had paid more attention, perhaps we could have spotted her sooner, and got her out before the harm was done.

Noon came and went, but eventually Cal remembered there would be food waiting at my house. I wasn’t sure I could eat, but he was hungry so we started to look for a shortcut.

“We can cut through underground,” I said. “That building over there – I’m sure the basement connects with a tunnel going most of the way there. It’ll be quicker than following the streets.”

Of course we got lost. There were tunnels everywhere, but no markings on them and no means to get our bearings.

“I think it’s this way,” he said, as we stood irresolute at a corner. “Come on.” I hesitated, and he went forward a little way. “Look, I’m sure this is right, I recognise that door down there.”

He strode off confidently. There was a sudden shimmer, like a summer heat-haze.

Then he vanished. Gone.

Despair washed through me, turning every limb to water. I was too stunned to move.

“Cal? Cal!” I called uselessly.

I thought – hoped – he was playing a trick on me. Slowly I walked down to the spot where he’d been, but there was nothing; no hidden door, no markings on the wall, no symbols. The walls were blank.

Panic overtook me. Frantically I raced up and down the corridor screaming his name. Eventually, grief caught up with me. I collapsed, flopping to the floor, distraught and sobbing.

Cal was gone.

I hardly knew what I did after that. The tears dried up eventually, but I was numb, frozen with disbelief. I think I stumbled around in the tunnels for a while, looking for Cal even though my heart knew he was gone. Dead, I supposed, but that was too much to take in. How could someone just disappear like that? The birds, yes, they were magical beings, they could pop in and out of existence between one heartbeat and the next. But humans had to leave traces behind, didn’t they? Footprints, a dropped scarf, a scent... a body, at worst.

I found myself near my house just as the sky darkened, so I went inside, if only to escape the biting wind. I had barely felt it before, but now I discovered I was chilled to the bone. I went through to the room for evening board, but I was early. Two people in their uniforms were setting the table. They bowed to me, and said something incomprehensible, then turned away to their chores, faces expressionless.

Tears dripped down my face again. I had never felt so alone. I’d lost my only real friend, my lover, and the worst of it was, I had no idea why. How could it possibly happen? Cal was a mage, he should have been safe. He
was
safe, for the bird had left him alone, and how many corridors had he walked through alongside me and not been taken? Yet now, for no reason I could see, the city had decided he had no right to be here.

It was my fault. I’d made false assumptions somewhere. I’d prided myself on my ability to reason, to deduce how the city worked, and I had failed. I’d thought Cal was safe but I was wrong, and I’d lost him because of it. If only we’d been more cautious! If only we’d gone a different way, a route we’d tested before.

These thoughts went spinning round in my head again and again, but I could make no sense of them. I began to doubt my reasoning, my sanity even. Perhaps I imagined everything? Perhaps he’d never been here at all? Did I dream those languid afternoons in bed?

No. Logic was my friend. I went through to another room, which had a writing table in it, pulled paper, pen and ink from the stand, and began to write. I made three columns: one for myself, one for Cal and one for poor Marras. Then I methodically listed all the differences between us. As soon as the list was in front of me, the obvious difference jumped out at me: the magic. I had magic inside me, Cal’s was contained in his vessel, and Marras had none. I could go anywhere with impunity. Marras had been taken the instant she set foot in the city. That was an assumption, of course, but it seemed a safe one. But Cal – so many times he had been here and been perfectly safe. What was different about this time?

I could see him in my mind’s eye, clinging to me when the birds came, or holding my hand as we strolled the streets and later striding off down the corridor. When he vanished, we were not touching. Almost all the time, we walked about hand in hand, but that one time he hadn’t been touching me. So had
my
magic been protecting him? Was he vulnerable without my constant touch? Why did his vessel not protect him? Because it wasn’t touching him, I realised. It sat in its little pouch instead of resting against his skin. I remembered the mage who’d led us through the sewers that first time, clutching his carved ivory vessel the whole way. That was all it needed. If Cal had let his vessel touch his skin, he would have been perfectly safe. If the mages had shown him how to get into the city, they would have told him that, probably.

But it was too late. Far, far too late.

I had a thought and raced through to the bedroom, and rummaged through drawers and shelves until I found what I was looking for – a belt with many pieces of carved jade worked into it. There were several in different sizes, and we’d assumed, when we looked at them before, that the jade sat on the outside, as decoration. Now I saw that I’d got it wrong. The jade was designed to lie on the inside, next to the skin. The belt was a device to hold many vessels. When I touched one of the jade pieces now, I could detect a faint resonance of magic still humming inside. That would be a powerful gift for a mage. For Cal.

It was all too much. I hurled myself onto the bed and wept in anguish.

~~~~~

I was tempted to stay there all night. I could live indefinitely in my house if I wanted to, with food and drink and every want provided for. Every want except companionship. I couldn’t even talk to the servants, ask them why they were here when no one lived here for them to serve, why they spoke a strange language, why they set out food every board when most of it would be uneaten.

So that evening I returned to Drei, the only person left that I could now call friend in Kingswell. If he
was
my friend. I wasn’t sure any more. All his earlier openness and desire to teach me had evaporated. He no longer needed my magic, so he no longer needed me. But I was still his drusse, for a little while.

I couldn’t tell him anything of that sun’s events, I was sure of that. I’d told him nothing of Cal after that first public encounter at the court assembly, and I was terrified to tell him now. So I washed my face at the water bucket room and returned to the Keep. Even so, it was probably lucky that I was already in bed when he returned to the apartment. He was not the most observant of men, but even he might notice my red eyes and distraught face under the full light of the lamps. As it was, it was dark enough to hide my grief. He took his pleasure and then went straight to sleep, while I was left lying miserably awake, trying to decide what under the moon I was to say if anyone came asking questions about Cal.

Eventually I slept.

~~~~~

As soon as I woke I knew I was pregnant.

In the ordinary way, I wouldn’t begin to suspect for another couple of ten-suns or more, but I was instantly aware of this
thing
inside me. Sometimes it’s a pity that magic is so unequivocal. There are occasions when a little dissembling, a little prevarication would be a kindness. On such a morning, my loss still raw and aching, I could have borne to stay in ignorance a little longer.

But no, there it was, as real and undeniable as my nose. Another person inside me. Minute, I suppose, but an individual all the same. Someone who was not me.

Fortunately, Drei took himself off without touching me, and with barely a word. I lay in bed, curled up in misery, until the servants began to knock on the door and ask if anything was the matter with me.

“Nothing at all, I’m fine, be right out,” I lied, then buried my head under the covers again.

But eventually I had to get up and pretend there was nothing worse ailing me than a headache. The morning board had been cleared away, but they made me a tray of food and I crumbled bread and sipped at my herbal drink and pretended I was fine. So much pretence.

I stared at the drink in disgust. It was the strongest mixture I could find, and I brewed it every morning without fail, yet here I was pregnant. How could that happen? A baby was the last thing I’d wanted, yet here it was.

~~~~~

It was several suns before I summoned the courage to tell Drei, but he was remarkably composed about it.

“A surprise, but a nice one, I think.”

“Aren’t you upset about it? You didn’t want this any more than I did.”

“Well, the herbs are not guaranteed to work for everyone,” he said calmly. “Sometimes these things happen. It won’t be so bad, I’m sure. I’ll make an appointment at the Scribing House just opposite the South Tower. That’s quite a good one, so I’ve heard.”

I was lost. “A Scribing House? What for?”

“To extend your contract, of course. Another year should do it, don’t you think? Or a year and a half perhaps.”

I felt as if the ground had tilted under me. “Extend my contract?” I said stupidly.

“Of course. I was going to raise the matter anyway, and this settles it. You make a very good drusse, Kyra. I’ve been very happy with the way you’ve taken to it. It will be a more complicated contract, of course, but we have time to get it done before the present arrangement expires. There will be more money, of course. And a bigger apartment, too. Obviously. We’ll need more space now.” He chuckled, and beamed at me genially.

My mouth had been flapping in disbelief, but I finally managed to speak. “No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“I don’t want to extend my drusse contract.”

“But you have to.” He sounded like a petulant child.

“I don’t
have
to. It ends in five suns and I don’t want to extend it.”

“But why? It’s not as if you have any other prospects. It will be better for you to stay with me until the baby is old enough to... until the baby is born. Then we can see what would be best. You don’t dislike me, do you?”

“No,” I said quietly. It was true enough, and I couldn’t lie to him anyway. “But I came here for a reason, to go to the Imperial Library with you and find out about our magic, and that turned out to be less useful than we hoped. So there’s no need for me to be your drusse.”

“But the baby! I mean, you breached your contract...”

“No, I didn’t! You know perfectly well I’ve taken the herbs every morning, you’ve watched me do it. The servants can vouch for it, as well. The law accepts that accidents happen. There’s no penalty unless it was done deliberately. The only difference is that because of the terms of the contract, the baby belongs to me, not to you.”

He stood as if struck by lightning, and it occurred to me that perhaps he’d been pleased about it because he thought
he
would keep the baby. I would stay there as his drusse until the child was weaned and then be dispatched off home. Or somewhere, anyway. I wasn’t sure I had a home any more.

Then another thought flitted into my mind. The child might be Cal’s. Awkward.

I was going to have to tread very carefully.

~~~~~

I had nowhere else to take my temper, so I stormed down to the discreet little shop that had sold me the herbs and thumped my half-used jar on the counter.

“They didn’t work,” I growled to the flustered assistant. “I’m pregnant.”

I was swiftly ushered into a private room, with a rather pointed pause beside the notice in large letters:
‘No guarantees, no refunds’
. The shop owner herself was fetched, and a hot drink made for me.

“I am so sorry,” she said. “We do have a few failures from time to time. You are one of the unlucky ones. Is it a disaster? We usually recommend a spellpage if you want to be absolutely sure.”

I shrugged. “It’s not a disaster, just – bad timing, I suppose.”

“Ah. I understand. But we could give you something – to deal with it. Very discreet, no one need suspect. No charge, of course.”

Oh, the temptation. To sweep it all away and pretend it hadn’t happened. But there was the curse of magic again; I could feel this child inside me, with its own personality rubbing against mine.

I shook my head. “But why would it happen?” I said. “Do the herbs go off? I’ve had this jar a couple of moons now.”

“Oh, not so quickly as that. Let me see.” She scanned the label. “No, these should last for six moons at least.” A frown. “This is our strongest mixture, it rarely lets us down. That is strange. Where did you keep it? Not above the hot pipes, I hope.”

“No, in the cool room, with the milk and butter. At this time of year, it never gets warm.”

“And you took it every sun?”

“Every morning, without fail.”

“That
is
odd.” She opened the lid and sniffed the herbs inside. Her face changed. “Oh! This is – has anyone tampered with it, do you know? Spilled the contents, or anything? Because this is not
our
mixture at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“Just a normal herbal mixture. With a little redroot added for the bitterness. It would taste much the same, but this would not have the desired effect at all. No wonder you find yourself pregnant.”

I was too astonished to speak.

“Is it possible,” she said gently, “that your—” A quick scan of my earrings. “That your drusse-holder wished you to become pregnant? And perhaps switched the herbs?”

“No, no,” I said. “He agreed to the terms of the contract.” But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I remembered how relaxed Drei had been when I told him and how quick to propose extending the contract. Almost as if he was expecting the news. And once the idea was in my head, I couldn’t get it out again.

~~~~~

This was a strange time for me. I was lost in a haze of misery, and I couldn’t say whether it was the loss of Cal or the discovery of the baby which grieved me most. Sometimes I just lay in bed crying, other times I was so angry I wanted to throw things around the room. When I could drag myself out of the apartment, I wandered about in a dream, drifting unseeing through the streets until evening.

I was so alone. The thought that Drei might have replaced my herbs with another mixture and made me pregnant against my will kept me from confiding in him. He’d been kind to me at my trial, but I saw now that he had a reason for that. He wasn’t quite the friend I’d thought he was. Oddly enough, for the first time in my life I began to think fondly of home. Mother’s brisk practicality would make my pregnancy much easier, and Ginzia and Alita would coo over the baby. Father would be glad to have me back, I knew. It would be a relief in many ways to turn and run back to the village, to be coddled and cherished a little.