The Fire Mages (9 page)

Considering the power the mages drew fuelled spells for a year with the minimum of fuss, I couldn’t see why any of it was necessary. The power was there, in the pillar, waiting. It
wanted
to be drawn out.

Eventually we got to the heart of it. Cal’s vessel, the teardrop shaped stone, was placed on a holder at shoulder height. We each placed a hand on the pillar. I was hesitant, but there was no sizzle this time, just a vibration that ran through my whole body and a warmth under my palm. Then, in unison, we each touched a finger to the stone to form a connection: pillar to Cal to stone to me and the pillar again.

I could feel it flowing through me. Whatever it was, this energy within the pillar, it rippled through me like a great river. I was more alive than I’d ever been, as if every pore, every hair, every sense was independently alive and I could feel each minute sensation at once. My whole body tingled with ecstasy. I think I cried out in pleasure.

In time, although I couldn’t say how long, the river dwindled to a stream and then to a tiny trickle. Then, abruptly, it stopped. Cal had removed his hand. I opened my eyes – I wasn’t aware of closing them – and saw him grinning inanely at me. He laughed, an odd high-pitched sound right on the edge of hysteria. I laughed back at him. I still tingled from top to toe. I felt as if every hair was standing on end. I was filled with such energy, such joy, such – desire.

I grabbed him and pulled his head down, kissing him hard on the lips. He responded in kind, his tongue pushing into my mouth, pressing his body against mine. Then we were tearing at each other’s clothes and tangling on the floor, breathing hard, squeezing, pushing, thrusting. I was screaming, I think, and he was almost as noisy. I’d never imagined any experience could be so exhilarating, so all-consuming, so overwhelmingly physical.

Afterwards, we lay on the blankets, still giggling, still energised, still touching and exploring. We should have been exhausted, but instead we carried straight on into another session and then another, perhaps. I don’t exactly remember it all. We may have slept a little, because all at once it was morning and light filtered in through high windows I’d not noticed before.

Cal attached his vessel stone to its thong and hung it round his neck, so that it lay next to his skin. That way, I supposed, he could call upon its power without holding it in his hand, making his thought magic even more impressive. We dressed, and gathered up all the bits and pieces from the ceremony, stuffing them haphazardly into the boxes. Then Cal rang a bell on the landing to summon the servants – for a Lord Mage would never carry his own baggage – and we made our way back to the mages’ house, still giggling, holding hands like children.

~~~~~

I was so full of zest that I could hardly be still for ten-suns afterwards. I was always dashing off somewhere, there was always time for one more task. I did twice as much as normal, yet I still had energy for more. Reading became, for the first time, a chore to me, for I hadn’t the patience to sit still. Instead of curling up in the window seat of my room, I began to stride about, book in hand, reading passages aloud and sometimes arguing with myself. The library, where I had to sit to read, tested my self-control to the limit.

Cal, by contrast, was subdued. He was surprisingly pleasant towards me. After a year of abuse, now he treated me with civility and even kindness, taking the trouble to ask what I was doing and to volunteer information. Perhaps I’d passed some kind of test. Three nights after the renewal, he scratched at my bedroom door and asked diffidently if he might share my bed.

I shrugged. “I’m still your drusse.”

So he came to me every night, and proved to be a gentle lover, cuddling me afterwards, and nibbling my ear softly. I didn’t mind; it helped to dissipate some of my excess energy.

I think he needed some comfort, for although the renewal had worked, his stone vessel hadn’t been filled with as much power as usual. It might only last him for half the year, and there would need to be another renewal then. He began to talk about extending my drusse contract, but I wasn’t sure. He was nice to me now, when he wanted something, but he had been detestable for so long I wasn’t sure I would ever like him.

I didn’t feel sorry for him. I supposed, as a mage, his power was an important part of who he was, and the loss of it was a deep wound. I didn’t like him enough to care.

I did wonder whether it was my fault, whether when I touched the pillar the first time, I had released some of the energy and set the ceremony on course for failure. But when I tentatively explained what I’d done, Cal just shook his head.

“These things happen sometimes, without any obvious reason.” He looked at me sourly. “Not everything is about you, Kyra.”

When I look back on it now, I can’t believe I was so blind. All the clues were there, right in front of me, but I was too wrapped up in my wonderful life to see what was going on.

Less than a moon later, the Kellon sent for me, and the world collapsed.

I had been in the Kellon’s address chamber many times before, but always tucked away in a corner, watching and listening, never taking part. Now I was standing in the centre of the room, the focus of everyone, as the Kellon’s stern eyes bored into me. He wore his official robes of justice, and I was on trial for the illegal use of magic.

It was about Deyria, naturally. After two years as the Kellon’s drusse and still with no baby making an appearance, the mages had been called in to examine her. They declared that her womb had been spelled, and with such strong magic that their efforts to nullify it had met with little success. The Kellon repeated everything I’d told him of the spell I had scribed for my sister, then turned to me.

“Lady Scribe Kyra, I suggest that you did, in fact, illegally create a true spellpage at a time when you were not licenced to do so. I suggest that you stole the materials to create this spellpage. I suggest that you took no silver and paid no tax on the transaction, contrary to the Drashon’s law. I suggest that you encouraged your sister to break the terms of her drusse contract. What do you have to say?”

I wasn’t afraid. I should have been, of course, but my father had always told me that if I told the truth nothing bad could happen to me, and I had told the truth. Everyone was watching me. Deyria was white-faced, tearful. Bellastria was serious and concerned. Drei was there, for once, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and the Kellon, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. I couldn’t see the mages as they were sitting behind me.

“Gracious Lord,” I said, looking him in the eye, “I have nothing to add to my previous explanation to you. I created a fake spellpage, at my sister’s request, using only mundane materials.”

“Then how do you account for the condition the mages have found?”

“I cannot account for it, but it is not my doing.”

“What other explanation can there be?”

“If perhaps my sister later bought a true spellpage—”

“I didn’t!” she burst out. “I
want
a baby now! I never did anything—” She was crying too hard to continue. He turned, smiling, and shushed her.

“Then I can’t think how it could happen,” I said. That was true enough. It was a complete mystery to me, for even then the most likely explanation never entered my mind.

“Very well,” he said, his judicial face back in place. “If you would kindly wait outside while we discuss this further.”

I sat in the cool corridor outside, watching sunlight lancing through coloured glass and making a mosaic of painted shapes on the floor. Servants came and went in silence. Cal waited with me, holding my hand, although I hadn’t asked him to. He hadn’t been part of the investigation, and he was nonchalant about it. He was in one of his better moods.

“Don’t worry, they’ll find a way out of this. Or if they don’t, it will only be a fine or something, with you being connected to the Kellon.”

“That shouldn’t make any difference,” I said, shocked.

“No, but it often does. If you’re telling the truth, you’ve nothing to fear.”

“
If?
Don’t you know? You’re a mage, you can see when someone’s lying!” Then a doubt: I remembered hearing that was all a myth. “Can’t you?”

“Well – it’s not as simple as that. It’s just – an impression, you know? A feeling. The mages give an opinion, but it’s not carved in stone –
this
is a lie, but
that
is true. It doesn’t work that way. I can’t do it, as it happens, but Meristorna – she’s the one who usually decides.”

That wasn’t reassuring. It was Meristorna who had told me it was all a myth.

“And my sister’s womb being spelled – is
that
just a feeling, too?”

“No, no, that’s much more solid. If you can touch the person, you can see any spells that affect them. I can see things like that. Well, given enough time, anyway.”

Drei came out periodically to tell us what was happening. Deyria gave her version of events. One of the mages explained some technical details. Several Masters vouched for my good behaviour at the scribery. Cal was called in to answer questions about my trustworthiness. I still wasn’t worried. I’d done nothing wrong, I’d told the truth, it was all a misunderstanding.

Drei stayed with me while I was alone, not touching me, not talking, for once not watching me, just sitting a little apart. After a while, he slid somewhat nearer to me along the marble seat and said quietly, “Could anyone spell her without her knowledge?”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Someone who didn’t want the Kellon to have any more potential heirs. Me, for instance.” He laughed at my shocked face. “I didn’t, don’t worry. But
could
I do such a thing, if I wanted to?”

“No. Well, it would be very difficult.”

“But not impossible?” he asked eagerly. “It could be done, then? With plenty of money and an unscrupulous scribe, say?”

I thought about that. Could that be the answer? Someone else had scribed a true spellpage secretly. The hope that flared in me lasted only an instant.

“It would be close to impossible,” I said, sighing. “Beneficial spells – those for healing or a good journey or some such – anyone can buy those and burn them, without the target knowing anything about it. But harmful spells, like the one to prevent pregnancy, have to be burned by the target herself. It would be chaotic, otherwise. If you disliked someone, you could spell them a broken leg or something.”

“Or kill them.”

“Well, yes. Can you imagine it! Society would collapse. Maybe there are other forms of magic that can do such things without restriction, but the magic we have – the
spells
we have – are very tightly constrained. It could be done, but then you would have to use spells to break the constraints, on top of the spell you wanted, and a whole amount of work to aim it at the right person. The number of variances needed would be enormous. I don’t know if it could even be written. A very powerful thought mage might be able to do it. The human mind is subtle.”

“Hmm.” He frowned. “So not that, then. Could Deyria be lying? Maybe she really did spell herself?”

I’d wondered about that, too. If she had, she wouldn’t want to admit it to the Kellon. A fake spellpage he could overlook, but a true spellpage would break the terms of her drusse contract. But I didn’t think she was lying. I was sure that, despite her initial fears, she really wanted to give the Kellon a child. Nor could I believe that she would sacrifice me to save her own position. Besides, where would she have got the silvers for a spell like that? She’d never saved a single piece in her life.

Reluctantly I said, “No, I don’t think she spelled herself.”

He folded his arms and sighed. “Well, it’s a puzzle and no mistake.”

“The oddest thing of all,” I said, “is that even a true spellpage should have worn off by now. A year or so is the most you get from it, and then only when you add the longevity symbols. Which I didn’t.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” was all he said.

I was summoned back in to hear the Kellon’s decision.

“Lady Scribe Kyra, you are accused of some serious crimes, and nothing has been suggested here which might exonerate you. I have only your word that the spellpage you wrote was fake. The mages’ opinion is that you are lying...”

“I’m not!”

“Do not interrupt! That is their opinion, which I am bound to take into account. It has been pointed out to me, however, that I am not an unbiased party in this case. Therefore I shall not pass judgement on you myself. Instead, I will refer the case to the Drashon’s Court, which will be here in two moons. Until then, you are forbidden from all scribing activities...”

“You can’t do that,” I said indignantly.

His eyebrows shot up. After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “You are a contract scribe, are you not? Well, I have no wish to restrict your professional activities more than is necessary. You are forbidden from scribing spellpages...”

“No,” I said with as much patience as I could manage. “If you find me guilty,
then
you can impose penalties. If you defer the case, you must let me go about my business without constraint.” I knew the law well enough, I’d been studying it for three years. There was a shocked murmur round the room.

His face reddened. “And suppose I find you guilty right now and merely defer your sentence?”

“That would be passing judgement on me yourself, which you’ve just said you wouldn’t do.”

He looked angry enough to spit roast me, but he conferred with his advisors and then grunted when they shook their heads.

“Very well, you may go,” he said. “For now.”

~~~~~

Those two moons were very strange. On the surface, my life continued exactly as it had before. I started my fourth year at the scribery. I worked with Marisa and Elissana. Cal still came to my bed, even though my drusse contract had long expired. I could change nothing, plan nothing, until I knew what my fate was to be.

This interlude gave me time to look up all the accusations against me, and for the first time I felt real fear. I was accused of very serious crimes. Encouraging the breaking of a drusse contract was relatively trivial, only a fine, although it would be a steep one because of the rank of the drusse-holder concerned. Not paying tax on a transaction carried a heavier penalty, a retraction of my licence for a period of time, perhaps permanently. If I were found guilty of the misuse of magic and stealing magically enhanced items, I could be sentenced to die, by a means chosen by the justice.

It was sobering. At best, I would be impoverished for life, with no means to earn my living. At worst... but I refused to think about that.

Drei came to see me three times during this period. Twice he came to give me information about the arrival of the court, names, dates and schedules, so that I would be prepared. Once he came because he had found a reference to a similar case in a book, and wondered if it might be any help to me. It wasn’t, but I was grateful anyway. I didn’t know what to make of him. I hardly knew him and our previous encounters had been odd, to put it mildly, yet he seemed to be the only person who believed my story.

None of the mages were any help. They kept telling me not to worry, and producing my favourite foods to cheer me up, but what I needed was practical advice and perhaps an obscure legal ruling from centuries ago that would release me from my dilemma.

Cal insisted on examining Deyria himself, but he came back in a black mood. He could see the spell on her womb very clearly, and it was very strong.

Mani and Lora, my scribery friends, also tried their best. Mani was now working at a big Scribing House, and he set all his fellow scribes on the problem, too. Lora had found a female patron and was in her third year, and she haunted the library on my behalf. But it seemed there was no way out, and I must hope for clemency from the Drashon.

The Drashon’s Court circulated round all the towns twice yearly, in spring and again in late summer, before the tax gathering. They dealt with any cases involving the nobility, and certain other serious cases. Normally it would be some of the Drashon’s extensive collection of children, nephews and nieces, cousins and other assorted relatives who attended, but this time the Drashon himself was coming, to honour the deceased Lady Cerandina. Many of her close kin were coming too, bringing various items of hers to be ceremonially burned in a remembrance pyre.

There was a great procession through the town when they all arrived, a long snake of riders and carriages, guards and servants and wagons, which took hours to toil up the hill to the Hall. I thought of Deyria, receiving all these high-ranking guests at the Kellon’s side, and wondered how she was coping. I hadn’t seen her since the trial, but that wasn’t a surprise. Nor had the Lady Bellastria sent for me. I was very much out of favour now.

The address chamber was packed for my second trial. Every seat was taken, and more people stood at the back, or crouched on the steps. I had never seen so much coloured silk, so many twinkling jewels, such elaborately draped scarves and embroidered skirts.

The room was rearranged slightly, with extra chairs in the centre. Three justices, who would manage the trial, sat on the chairs previously occupied by the Kellon and his heirs. The Kellon now sat to their right, while the Drashon, wearing his heavy golden collar, sat to the left.

This trial took much longer because every detail had to be described for the justices. The Kellon himself talked for quite a long time, explaining the drusse contract, how he learned of the fake spellpage, his discussion with me about it and the discovery that Deyria’s womb was spelled. Then Deyria told her story. The mages were called to describe the spelled womb, and the remedies they had attempted to alleviate it. The justices asked many questions, and had various parts of the story repeated.

Then it was my turn. Again, I was asked to tell the whole story from beginning to end, and the justices asked questions. Once the Drashon himself interrupted.

“So you are saying that your sister asked you for the spellpage?”

“She did, Highness.”

“
She
suggested the idea to
you
?”