The White Mists of Power (15 page)

The men talked behind her of spells and magicks. She did not listen. She waited until her trembling slowed before straightening up.

She set the teapot down on the counter and walked back to the table. Xell was looking at Seymour as if Nica had never left. “Nica,” Xell said, “get us some parchment.”

Nica reached around the table to the desk near the window. She removed several sheets of parchment, two pens, and two bottles of ink. She set the equipment on the table, then went back to clean the cups. The men bent over the papers, pens scratching as they traded spells. Nica boiled water, rinsed the cups, and then returned to the table. Xell and Seymour traded papers.

“Would you like me to work with you on these?” Xell asked.

Seymour shook his head. “I think I’ll have time to practice on my own.” He set the sheets aside so that the ink could dry. Xell skimmed over the sheet that Seymour had handed him, and seemed satisfied.

You would forgive Byron anything.
The foreign bitterness of the thought startled her. Then she realized that for the first time one of Xell’s thoughts touched her.

“The paper is dry,” Seymour said. He gathered up the sheets, holding them as if they would burn him. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for all of your help.”

Xell nodded. “If you need assistance, please let us know.”

“I will.” Seymour stood and walked toward the door. The crystals’ pinkness shone. He let himself out. As the door closed, the pink glow faded, and the crystals were clear again.

Nica sighed a little, wishing she could follow him, wishing she could see Byron.

“It’s not wise,” Xell said softly.

“I know.” Nica walked back to the hearth. Chills ran up and down her arms. “I should let him know that I’m alive. I owe him that much.”

“No.” The fire’s warmth crept up her arms. She felt as if she were being half burned and half frozen. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. He bears the white mists of power. I saw them.”

“And I explained that.” Xell’s voice boomed around the room. The crystals jingled. “I forbid you to see him. You risk too much.”

“We are bound,” she said. “He saved my life.”

“Leave him alone, Nica.” Xell’s anger touched her, but beneath it she felt something else. She took a step toward him, leaving the warmth of the fire.

“You’re afraid,” she said with surprise. “What could Byron do that frightens you so?”

Xell’s rigidness snapped. He seemed to melt against his chair. As he stood up, she saw that his arms were shaking. He walked over to her, but did not touch her. “The white mists of power outside of the palace mean war, Nica. The Enos say that when they no longer control the white mists of power, we, the people of Kilot, will destroy the land. And when we destroy the land, the Enos will destroy us.”

“But Byron is Enos- trained. You said so yourself.”

“There’s more to it than that.” Xell looked old in the shop’s dimness. The flickering fire light crept into the lines of his face, hiding his features in shadow. “Underneath the palace lies a cache of Enos power so great that only the most powerful Enos guard it. Gerusha discovered the Cache and swore upon it that no war would ever again touch Kilot. The Enos held him and his descendants to that oath. In turn, the Enos hold the key to the royal succession, but otherwise do not interfere in our affairs. It is said that when the Enos begin to interfere in human affairs, the final time has begun.”

Nica frowned. The old legends seemed too vague to her. “So whoever carries the white mists of power is a member of the royal family.”

“No.” Xell took her hand. His fingers were cold. “Whoever carries the white mists of power carries with him the power to destroy the entire kingdom.”

ii

The night talked to him. Afeno walked near the ports. The river barges cuddled the docks, their lanterns reflecting orange in the water. Since they had come to Coventon, he had taken to walking the dock area at night, seeing the pickpockets at work, eyeing the whores. Byron kept him busy during the day, but at night Afeno had only Colin to talk to, and the boy was too young to have many stories. Afeno missed the night action. His fingers itched with the urge to dip into a pocket and lift a coin. But Byron had warned him against it, saying that too much was at stake. And for the first time in his life, Afeno had money and no need to steal anything.

He pushed his ways through a crowd huddled outside the tavern at the edge of the docks. Inside, he paid a round for an ale he didn’t drink and sat at a table near the door. He used to dream about sitting in a tavern and not getting thrown out. Now the barkeep took his money and paid him no notice, as if Afeno had as much right as anyone to come into the tavern. That pleased him.

Three of the whores he had seen outside walked into the tavern and took the table next to his. The acrid odor of sweat mixed with sour perfume wafted over to him. He stuck his nose in his tankard, preferring the bitterness of the ale to the smell of the women.

The woman next to him, a tall redhead with face powder so thick it caught in the lines on her face, slammed five gold pieces on the table. “I’m buying for everyone!” she said.

The crowd laughed, but the hum of voices dimmed. Everyone was listening. Afeno leaned forward a little on his chair, hoping that he could find a way to share in the profits too.

“What did he find, a new merchant with a loose purse?”

“Better than that. He knows where Lafa’s bounty is staying.” The whore pushed the gold pieced forward. “Where’re the drinks?”

The barkeep began filling mugs of ale. “We all know where the bounty is staying, Olu, but no one can touch him until he’s outside the city.”

The whore shrugged. “Who’s to say how he gets outside the city.”

Afeno frowned, unable to follow the conversation. He had been here night after night, and had heard nothing about a bounty. Men around the room stood up and left their ales.

Afeno took a deep breath and stood. “Do you mean the bard who just came into town, the tall, thin, dark one with the fancy clothes?”

Everyone in the bar looked at him. Afeno thought a few people recognized him, but he wasn’t sure. The barkeep had stopped pouring the ales. He said, gruffly, “That’s the one.”

Someone wanted Byron bad to place a bounty on him. Afeno was shaking. “I’m down from Dakin’s lands. Dakin is paying five hundred gold pieces for him alive.”

“Where did you hear that, boy?” the barkeep asked.

“Nadaluci. It’s all over up there.”

The whore stuck her money in her pocket. The men gathered near the door, and the conversations began low, people trying to figure how to get both rewards. Afeno left his ale and slid past the bodies toward the door. He wanted to leave, but most of his money was at the inn with Byron. He owed it to Byron to tell him. But he didn’t want to go back. With this many people after him, Byron had no chance of survival. And neither did his companions.

iii

The guild shop was dark except for the embers glowing in the hearth. Nica’s hands shook as she laced her cape. She hadn’t left the shop since she had become a magician. Xell insisted on total seclusion until she learned her craft well enough to survive on her own.

She had waited until Xell was sleeping before sneaking down the stairs. She would talk to Byron briefly, thank him, let him know that she was safe, and then she would return. Xell wouldn’t know until morning, and by then he would be able to do nothing.

A small trickle of fear ran down her back. Her training was all she had, especially now that Rury was dead. But sometimes Xell exaggerated threats. Perhaps he had exaggerated this one.

She crossed her arms before her face, held her breath, and clenched her fists. Her chants were soft. She felt deep relief as her luck web hugged her.

When she opened her eyes and let her arms drop, she heard someone cough. She turned and saw Xell behind her. He was wearing his magician robes. “I’m coming with you,” he said.

Nica swallowed. She knew how people reacted to the offer of money, especially people as poor as those who worked the docks in Coventon. Her magic was untested outside the shop, and yet she was a better magician than Seymour. He would be no help if something happened. “All right,” she said.

Xell did not smile. He took her arm, then picked up his staff. Another chill tickled her spine. Xell only used his staff for serious magic.

They stepped out of the shop. The night was cold, and the river smelled of fish. No one was on the streets and yet up ahead, Nica could hear shouts and cries. She wanted to walk faster, but Xell held her back. He led her through two side streets and around a corner.

And then she saw the crowd. They huddled around an inn. They were carrying torches that illuminated the entire road. Most of the crowd were men, large men, dock handlers and toughs, but a few women stood inside the crowd. They seemed to be waiting. A man leaned out a window. In the flickering light, Nica recognized Seymour’s face. He raised his hands and Xell groaned.

“He’s got the wrong position!”

Xell raised his staff. The strands of Nica’s luck web shimmered as Xell gathered his around himself. He started to chant, but too late. The inn exploded, sending plumes of flame into the sky.

iv

Afeno heard the explosion echo like a crack throughout the city. He was still a mile from the inn. He ran, passing empty docks and emptier streets. He thought he heard shouts up ahead, and he saw flames splash against the sky. Then the fires disappeared and the shouts grew dim. He ran faster, his breathing so loud that he could barely hear his feet pound against the dirt.

When he reached the inn, the street was dark. Small fires burned on the building’s face, and the wood was scorched. A large hole gaped in place of the window to Byron’s room. The area smelled of sulfur and charred wood.

Afeno ran across the street and through the inn’s open door. No one was in the tavern. No one appeared to be in the inn at all. He took the stairs two at a time, rounded the corner, and entered the dark hallway.

The sulfur smell was stronger here, mixed with something else, something rancid. The door to Byron’s room stood open, and a thin trickle of light came from inside.

Afeno stepped through the door. Tiny flames burned along the inside of the wall. The pallets were covered with blood. Byron’s sword was stuck in the floor at an odd angle. A body lay in the hole where the window used to be. Afeno’s heartbeat moved into his throat.

He hurried to the hole and grabbed the body. The rancid smell came from it. Afeno finally recognized it: burned flesh. He pulled the body out of the hole. It was Seymour. His hands and arms were all burns. As Afeno laid him back on the floor, Seymour moaned.

“The innkeeper. Some beggars. A hundred people. Byron and Colin fought–” Seymour coughed. He wheezed for a moment, then took in some air. “I tried a new spell, but it exploded on me, and I couldn’t help–”

“You need an herb witch,” Afeno said. He had to get out of there, out of the stink. He beat the remaining flames out with a blanket. “I’ll be back with an herb witch. Wait here.”

“But Byron–”

“Ten minutes won’t help or hurt Byron either way, but it’ll help you. Wait here.”