Thief's Magic

Stain. She must have used magic when looking inside herself. For all that it had gained her. She stood paralysed. “The worst places you can use magic are those you and others frequent,” the corrupter had said. It was a tiny blot, though. It would soon fade away. But what to do in the meantime? It was in full sight, too high above the bed for the bedding to cover it.

  A loud knock on the main door made her heart nearly jump out of her chest. Izare started awake. He glanced around the room, blinked at her, then his gaze moved to the door of the lower room. He cursed.

  “Famire. She’s early. Or we slept late.”

  Rielle found her voice somehow. “Probably a little of both. You’d better get dressed and answer the door.”

  He turned back to the bed and her heart froze as his gaze settled on the stain. But he only grimaced in sympathy and began to pull on his trousers from the night before.

  “Let Old Tam take care of it. I’ll get some water and send Famire upstairs.” He grabbed the pitcher and slipped out of the room shirtless. Rielle winced as she heard a young woman’s voice. While she was relieved it was Famire, she knew the girl would either be scandalised or enjoy the sight of his bare chest a little too much.

  Looking back at the Stain and the red blotch below it, she had a flash of inspiration. If it was washday, then she had a way to cover both. Grabbing everything that needed cleaning, she piled it on top of the bed. She could still sense the Stain if she searched for it, but if she hadn’t known it was there she’d have never noticed it. Hopefully it would have faded in a few hours, when she took the washing to Tam.

  Izare returned with the pitcher, put on a shirt, then headed upstairs. Rielle took her time cleaning and dressing, then started preparing a simple meal of bread, salted preserves and sliced melon. They both needed to eat, but it was rude to do so in front of a guest without inviting them to join in. She ate the ends of the bread and melon as she worked. By the time she was done her sense of calm was almost completely restored. Only when she saw the pile of washing did she feel anxiety rising, so she avoided looking at it.

  Using an unfinished, long-ago-rejected painting as a tray, she carried the food upstairs. Famire was already in position, her clothes artfully dishevelled. The girl’s eyes snapped to Rielle.

  “Oh, it’s the woman herself. Ais Lazuli. Talk of the temple.”

  “Ais Famire,” Rielle replied. “How are you? How are the girls?”

  Famire shrugged and the shoulder of her tunic slipped even lower. Izare made a low noise of annoyance and she hoisted it up again.

  “They’re the same as always. You gave them something truly exciting to talk about for a while there. Ooh, is that for me? I’m starving!” She was peering at the food. Izare sighed and put down his brush, but when he looked at Rielle his expression was grateful. He gestured towards the chairs.

  “I’m afraid you caught us before we’d eaten,” he said. “But you’re welcome to join us.”

  Famire hoisted her tunic up but didn’t retighten the ties. As Rielle and Izare sat down she flopped into a chair.

  “This posing is harder than it looks,” she said. Not waiting for a response, she leaned forward and plucked some bread from the plates and began piling preserves on top. “I had a morning meal, but I’m already hungry again.”

  By the time she was done, half of the food remained. Izare nodded to Rielle, inviting her to serve herself next. She shook her head. “I’m not that hungry,” she lied, figuring she had eaten a little during the preparation but he’d had nothing. He began grazing, but soon Famire was done with her first serving and was feasting on the rest, leaving little behind for him. A meal that should have fed two had been gorged by one who ought to have had the good manners to share, even if she couldn’t comprehend that her hosts had to eke out what little money they had until the next commission.

  Or couldn’t she? Famire had hardly been warm and friendly since Rielle had arrived. She had always been antagonistic and disdainful, and Rielle could see no difference in her manner now.

  I thought I’d escaped this, and here she is back in my life. The thought sent a bolt of anger through her.

  “You are hungry,” Rielle observed. “Your morning meal must have been very meagre.”

  Famire shrugged. “Oh, I can’t eat much in the morning.”

  “You have a delicate stomach?”

  “No, I’m used to eating as much or as little as suits me at any time of day.” Famire spread her hands. “I guess it’s my upbringing. I can’t imagine what it’s like to adjust to a different way of life, such as you have.”

  Rielle nodded in mock sympathy. “No, I don’t imagine your imagination would stretch that far.”

  Izare slapped his thighs. “I think it’s time we got back to work.”

  “Oh, yes!” Famire agreed. “I will be able to concentrate much better now that I am not so distracted by hunger.”

  Rielle smiled. “Sitting quietly is a skill not everyone possesses. There are good models and bad models, or so Izare tells me. The good models get the better portraits, naturally.”

  Famire glanced at Izare and smiled. “Izzy is so strict. He really doesn’t like it when I move. But,” she paused to look at him from under her eyelashes, “I find it hard to stay still when someone’s looking at me so much.”

  “Because it makes you self-conscious?”

  “No, I quite like it actually.”

  “Well, then, we’ll have to make sure you don’t enjoy yourself. For the sake of a good portrait, of course.” Rielle picked up a chair, moved it closer and sat down. “I’m sure your father doesn’t want to pay for a bad portrait.”

  Famire tossed her head. “Oh, Father won’t be seeing it. He gave me the money to buy a gift, but doesn’t care what I buy so long as he doesn’t have to take me shopping or hear me talk about it.”

  So I’m right. Rielle looked at Izare. He turned to meet her gaze, then shook his head.

  “I’m in agreement with your father,” he said. “But only because I can’t concentrate when you two are talking. I regret that I must cut short your reunion and,” he turned to Rielle, “I also need my dear Rielle to fetch something for me.”

  Rielle opened her mouth to object, then closed it again. I suppose I asked for that. He can’t exactly ask Famire to leave.

  “Something downstairs?” she asked.

  He shook his head, put down his brush and walked over to her. “I need you to buy some food and iquo for when Errek and the others come over tonight.” He reached into his money pouch for the coin. “Buy yourself a treat, too,” he whispered. “I know you lied about not being hungry.”

  She nodded, though her blood had frozen. He wanted her to go out. Alone. She had avoided venturing into the city by herself since Sa-Gest had accosted her. Once she had seen the priest lurking in the shadows of a side alley, watching them. Another time, when she and Izare were eating out with his friends, Sa-Gest had sauntered past, his eyes locking with hers briefly before she had looked away.

  Izare led her towards the stairs, picking up some paper and chalk along the way and pressing them into her hands with the money.

  “I haven’t seen you drawing for a long time,” he murmured, his head close to hers. “Don’t let me be the reason you stop.”

  In that moment she loved him more fiercely than at any time before. When he kissed her, she pressed her lips to his firmly, then stepped away. She held onto that feeling as she walked down the stairs to the lower room. Averting her eyes from the pile of washing on the bed, she slipped the coins into her money bag and strapped it on under her tunic. Then she closed the lower room door firmly and headed out into the courtyard.

  The courage she held onto drained away. Standing in the shadows of the doorway, she looked all around, searching for a thin grey-robed figure. Though she didn’t find one, her fear remained as she forced her legs to carry her away from the safety of home.

  When Sa-Baro had visited to arrange a second meeting, this time with her parents, she h
ad thought of telling him about Sa-Gest, but Izare had been there and she had remembered Jonare’s warning that he might do something foolish. She was not sure telling Sa-Baro was a good idea. Or her family. Once she moved back in with them Sa-Gest wouldn’t dare continue pursuing her anyway.

  Yet once she was married to Izare she would be vulnerable again. Sa-Gest could still make their life difficult.

  Angels save me, she thought. Out of habit, for surely they would take one look at her tainted soul and leave her to the fate she deserved.

  All the worrying took too much energy and thought. It was better not to think at all. She concentrated on making her way through the city quickly, checking ahead for a grey-robed priest when forced to use the smaller, less populated streets. She found places to wait out the hours until Famire left, but couldn’t risk focusing her attention on drawing in case Sa-Gest sneaked up on her. Eventually she bought food and iquo for that evening’s gathering but nothing else, as she felt too much turmoil inside to eat, and made her way home.

  When she reached the door of Izare’s home a wave of dizziness forced her to tuck her purchases under one arm and grab the frame for support. Though her head cleared, a weariness remained. And nausea.

  If I didn’t know better I might think I was pregnant, she mused. That thought caused her mouth to twist into a bitter smile. Would Sa-Gest find her so attractive all swollen with child?

  Would Izare? No, he loves me. She smiled as she remembered his words. “Don’t let me be the reason you stop.” He didn’t want her to give up that part of herself, but what wouldn’t she give up for him?

  Would I give in to Sa-Gest?

  Would he lie with Famire to keep the commission they so desperately needed?

  These thoughts are not making anything better, she told herself, and pushed through the door.

  Three men stood in the stairwell. Her body went rigid with fear as she recognised the man she had dreaded encountering all day. Then she saw Izare and the fear ebbed a little.

  And then went weak as she took in the third man.

  Sa-Elem. That could only mean one thing: an inspection. They had searched the house while she was gone.

  Had the Stain faded? The door to the lower room was open. It took all her will not to look through it to the bed. Glancing at the three men again, she noted that Izare wore his usual expression of forced tolerance during an inspection. Sa-Elem regarded her coolly. Sa-Gest smirked.

  “Ah…” she began. “Forgive me for interrupting, Sa-Elem, Sa-Gest. Have … have you just arrived or are you about to leave?” She stepped forward and handed some of her purchases to Izare, who smiled at her as he took them.

  That’s a good sign, she thought. He wouldn’t be smiling if the priests have found—

  “We just arrived, Ais Lazuli,” Sa-Elem told her. He turned towards the door to the inner room and her heart stopped. “I have received a report of suspicious activity in this area.”

  “Activity?” she asked.

  “The use of magic,” he said. “Stain was found near the garbage pit, so we are searching the surrounding houses.”

  She swayed and caught the frame of the door behind her. “Are we in danger?”

  Angels, please let the Stain be gone. I will do anything. I will accept my barrenness …

  The priests stepped inside the lower room. Izare followed. Not wanting to be left with Sa-Gest, Rielle followed. The younger priest waited in the stairwell, most likely expecting to be ordered to search upstairs.

  As before, Sa-Elem’s gaze swept the room quickly. She relaxed at the careless examination. He looked up, taking in the ceiling, then down at the floor. And then he stilled. His head turned slowly, his attention moving back to the bed. Abruptly he broke into motion. Her mouth went dry as he strode to the bed and knocked the pile of washing off with a swipe of one hand.

  The Stain was still there, a tiny blot hovering above a now dry bloodstain. Sa-Elem looked up from the sheets to stare at Rielle. Not accusing, she realised. Knowing.

  Another wave of dizziness came. Hands grasped her arms.

  Oh, how embarrassing, she thought. I’m going to faint.

  But she didn’t. Izare and Sa-Gest guided her to the old chair. She nearly laughed at the irony of the priest helping Izare assist her. Then Sa-Gest placed a hand firmly on her shoulder, and she realised he had done so as much to stop her attempting to escape. Izare glared at the man, then squatted beside her.

  “Did you eat anything?” he asked.

  She could not meet his eyes. She couldn’t speak, so she shook her head.

  “Eat something now.” He rose and moved to the bed, where he had tossed her purchases.

  “I think it can wait a short while,” Sa-Elem said, though without malice. He looked at Rielle. With a great effort, she made herself meet his eyes.

  “You can see it, can’t you?” Sa-Elem asked.

  Rielle frowned as if in puzzlement or concern, her mind whirling with urgency. Could she deny it? She could claim to have nearly fainted because she hadn’t eaten much all day, not because of seeing the Stain or knowing her crime had been discovered. But once he told her what was there, how would she explain how it got there? If neither she nor Izare had made it, who else could have? It might have been easier to direct suspicion elsewhere if the Stain had been upstairs in the studio rather than above the bed.

  Or was it? Famire had been here. The portrait upstairs would seem to confirm something scandalous had been going on here, with Rielle absent.

  Izare would be hurt at her distrust if she suggested it, and if Famire had not entered the lower room in the entire time she’d been here then he would know she couldn’t be the cause.

  “What can you see?” Izare asked Sa-Elem.

  The priest looked at Izare. “Stain.” He leaned down and traced the shadow with his fingers. “Here.”

  Izare stared, his eyes wide with horror. “There. So close to…” He looked at Rielle, his brow tight and lined. “You can see it,” he said, moving over to crouch before her again. “I can read it in your face, Rielle. There’s no crime in that.” He touched her cheek, tracing her jaw with his fingers. “I’ve known people who could. I understand. A lifetime of hiding is a hard habit to break. However it got there—”

  “It wasn’t there early this morning,” Sa-Gest said. “When I did the first sweep.”

  Izare’s blink was more like a flinch. His eyes went dark with realisation, and she knew then that nobody had entered the lower room since she’d left it. Izare knew that the Stain could only have come from her. Horror came next, and she knew that he would never be able to accept what she had done. She clutched at his arms as if that would stop the truth from driving him away, but he was not moving away. Instead he grabbed her arms tightly.

  “What … what were you doing?” he demanded. “Did you … Did you…?”

  “Getting rid of a child is one of the most common reasons women seek to learn magic,” Sa-Gest said, his voice laced with mock sympathy.

  “No!” Rielle protested. She could not bear for Izare to believe such a thing. “There was no child. I want a child. I didn’t even mean to use magic.”

  “You tried to make yourself fertile?” Sa-Elem asked.

  “No. To see if the damage she’d done had healed.” She looked up at Sa-Elem. “She hurt me so I would have to heal myself. I was tricked.”

  Izare let her go, rising and staggering backwards, but she barely noticed as a memory flashed into her mind. “I was tricked,” her abductor had said. Yet he’d still been paraded through the city and sent wherever the tainted were sent. She saw Sa-Elem’s face relax into sadness and sympathy. He knows the corrupter does this. He knows.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked.

  She looked away. “I was going to, but I couldn’t see how I could without…” She sighed. “The result would have been the same.”

  He said nothing to that. Moving away from the bed, he walked over to stand in front of her. With him be
fore her and Sa-Gest behind, she felt surrounded – caged – by priestly robes. The potential of their magic, for all that it was sanctioned by the Angels, was no longer awe-inspiring or comforting.

  “Ais Rielle Lazuli,” Sa-Gest said. “You are to accompany us to the temple.”

  PART FIVE

  TYEN

  CHAPTER 17

  Leaning on the ship’s railing, Tyen stared out into the darkness. Dark clouds blocked the stars and the lights of the shore were far beyond the horizon. Only the occasional froth of a cresting wave broke the blackness beyond the ship’s lights.

  “Such a lovely, calm evening for a party,’ a quiet voice said.

  He turned to smile at Sezee as she joined him at the railing. “It is.”

  “Of course, it’s not really Veroo’s birthday,” she added.

  He frowned, surprised at the lie.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, then raised her glass to her lips and sipped. Her dark eyes glinted with mischief. “Her birthday passed when we were back in Leratia, when we weren’t in the mood for celebrating. This gives us something to do while on board and it’s far nicer to share such occasions with friends.”

  “Captain Taga shared a bottle of his finest wine with us,” he reminded her.

  She shrugged. “He didn’t have to. We provided one we bought while on shore. And I doubt it’s his very finest.”

  Tyen looked away and sighed. He’d not set foot on land for several weeks. Though the women were happy to purchase things for him whenever the ship docked, and had mailed a letter to his father for him, he envied them their freedom. He dared not spend any more money than he had to either, knowing that if he did his supply would run out sooner.

  No doubt guessing the reason for his miserliness, Sezee and Veroo kept giving him presents. He’d abandoned the habit of reading fiction after joining the Academy, having too much studying to do, but after boredom had driven him to try the novels they bought they’d found a few more to his taste. They criticised every book thoroughly, and each time the ship stopped they sought out another bookshop at which to buy more and sell those already consumed.