Dead Letter (4 page)

“
Adept Lanuille, at your service.”

“
At my service? What ever do you mean by that?”

“
The elders have assigned me to be your escort.”

“
Not on my life!”

“
That is exactly our task, I’m afraid.”

“
Our task? Who do you mean? Those two?” The two whispering men
bowed an acknowledgement to Kettna.

This was
unbelievable. There would be no way to conduct her own business in
the city with three adepts on her back about everything she did. “I
can’t believe my Mother! This is her doing, I know it.”

“
I am sorry the decision angers you,” said Lanuille. “We won’t
impede your position with the city watch.”

“
How so? Don’t you think three mages traipsing on my tail will
hamper my efforts?”

“
I cannot say, though I am bound to follow my
assignment.”

“
What exactly is your assignment?” asked Kettna.

“
Protection.”

“
Reconnaissance?” Kettna would get to the bottom of her
mother’s plans.

“
Not specifically.”

“
What specifically?”

“
To protect you from any threat on your life or any threat to
the Order.”

“
And which of those imperatives takes precedence?”

“
My instructions are not specific to that detail.”

“
Can I give you orders?”

“
You can, but I am not bound to follow them. I remain your
guilded senior and have authority to direct you should the need
arise.”

“
May I see your edict?”

Adept
Lanuille produced the document from an inside pocket and Kettna
read it over. This was all too embarrassing to believe, yet there
it was, complete with signatures of the elders and the seal of the
Order. Freedom had a tight leash and her mother had a deeper agenda
than ‘protection’. It was pointless to struggle against guild
edicts, as much as she wanted to. She would let them play out and
the connections would become apparent, as they did with all things.
For now, she would follow the thread of her own edict and find Rix
along the way.

The
ferryman leaned on the rudder and sang a song about wind and waves
and buckets and knaves. Kettna put aside the politics of her
journey and emptied her mind of frustration, practising her focus
on the patterns of the weave, manifesting as the forces of nature.
Gulls patrolled a fisher-boat, gliding on the breeze. The sail on
the skiff billowed and the lake blew white pointed kisses to the
sky. Here at the conjunction of air and water, Kettna attuned her
thoughts. She pictured the elements interacting and nurtured an
idea, repeating the words of the ferryman’s song like a colourful
thread woven into a tapestry. To her surprise the weave yielded to
her mind and a wild spell took hold, following the path of the
ferryman’s ditty.

“…
The sails filled and the waters stilled, the boat
up and flew on the water,” sang the ferryman, until he realised
that very thing was happening. The bow lifted and the boat skimmed
across the lake, as though the gods drove it with their own hand.
The ferryman gripped the rudder, his eyes wide and laughter jumping
from his chest. “Look at that Mistress! I’m a mage now!”

“
I think the Order missed an opportunity with you, Ferryman!”
laughed Kettna.

Adept
Lanuille glared at Kettna, as if the compliment had stained her
immaculate blue robes.

The
ferryman’s innate mana dissipated. The spellsong was lost in his
excitement and Kettna’s focus on Lanuille’s sudden irritation. It
was a good thing too, for they were close to the docks of Calimska,
where scores of small boats ducked in and out between ships big
enough to crush the ferryman’s skiff. The docks bustled with
sailors and labourers, travellers and hawkers. Treadwheel cranes
lifted heavy cargo and draft horses hauled wagons loaded with all
manner of goods. A waft of fish, tar and manure assaulted her nose.
A battalion of warehouses lined along the lakeside like troops
laying siege to the city. Calimska looked down from upon the hill,
ringed by a stone curtain wall that proclaimed ultimate power, as a
crown did for a monarch. Inside the city fortifications,
golden-yellow brick houses with tiled roofs climbed the hill, just
as the first settlers did, flocking to witness Calim’s miracles on
the summit. And there, at the very top, was the seat of power, the
epicentre of politics and trade: the Grand Hall and Castle
Roost.

CHAPTER THREE

Locked
Out

The ferryman brought
the skiff up to the pier and secured the mooring lines. Wielding
magic through song had given him a giddy grin and he proffered a
kind hand to assist the two men first to disembark. The cowled
adepts ignored the ferryman’s hand and stepped ashore without so
much as a nod of thanks, or a pause in their intelectual
conversation. They were rude, even for mages. Undeterred by the
snub, the ferryman assisted Adept Lanuille, who took his hand with
brief courtesy. Kettna accepted his hand with warm regard and he
helped her onto the dock. Together they had made magic, ever so
fleeting, yet the joy of the ferryman’s song had stitched a
connection between them. Would it be so if she had not used his
song as the catalyst? He bowed to Kettna and placed his forehead
upon the back of her hand in the old custom of gratitude.
“Mistress, you did that miraculous thing, no?”

“
I helped, but the power was all yours. You must have a touch
of weather witch in your blood.”

“
Mayhaps you’re right. My oldma ran with Reik wanderers over
the range when she was more cake and less crust. Whatever the
reason, I thank you. Next time you want to cross, find me. No
charge, and we can zip across again, hmm?”

“
I’d like that very much.” Kettna returned his thanks with her
forehead on his hand.

“
Oh, no, no. Please, Mistress, you give me too much honour.
You go now and find your fortune in the Calimska. When you return,
find my flag, red crab on yellow sand. If you see that, you find
me.”

“
Farewell, Ferryman.”

“
Be safe. The City of Gold ain’t all shine.”

Kettna
took her leave, marched down the pier to where her adept escorts
were waiting. Without a word, the novice past them by, taking Lake
Road toward the barbican of Silk Gate. Who were these three adepts,
treating such a kind man with disregard? Even if the ferryman had
been without good humour, surely they could have afforded him more
decency.

Lanuille
caught up, matching Kettna’s long stride. “You shouldn’t have done
that.”

“
Are you going to report it? Are you going to haul me back
across the lake so Mother can punish me?”

“
I should. That was a serious violation.”

“
Ash! It’s anything but serious. Drop the pretence. The elders
aren’t watching.”

“
You know it’s against the law to wield upon a citizen like
that.”

“
I didn’t intend for that to happen. I was just probing the
weave and the ferryman happened to have the gift. I couldn’t summon
a gust like that on my own. Besides, he didn’t mind. I made his
day.” As soon as Kettna said it, she wished she had kept her smart
mouth shut.

Lanuille
pulled Kettna aside. “What? You used him?”

“
No, it wasn’t like that.”

“
The commandments are all that separate us from poachers. You
are the daughter of the Archmagus! How could you? You’ll be
expelled.”

“
Don’t get me started about the commandments, and don’t twist
this up and liken me to a poacher. I took nothing from him, I
swear. I’d never poach another person and endanger their life.”
That was mostly true.

“
Then how do you explain such a display? If it wasn’t you and
he has only a gift with no bond to the spell’s articulation, what
then? Do you suggest the gods are at play here?”

Kettna chose her words with care. She didn’t want to enmesh
her true crimes buried in the past with her present indiscretions.
“I’m sorry. My response was short and impolite. I shouldn’t have
spoken to you, my senior, with disrespect. I only employed an old
technique that Calim’s disciples used on new settlers when they
were trying to find talent amongst the common folk. You know, the
one in
Illuprine’s
Memoire
? He calls it a
Gather
.”

Adept
Lanuille scrutinised Kettna. “I’ve never heard of such a
thing.”

“
You’ve not read
Illuprine’s
Memoire
?”

Lanuille
faltered. “No.”

“
The
Gather
isn’t exactly a spell. All a mage needs to do is focus
connections in the weave to the subject and see if the subject can
spontaneously grasp a thread and manifest their talent.”

“
Is the ‘technique’ on the approved list for a
novice?”

“
No. However, it’s not on the prohibited list
either.”

“
It’s a thin rope to traverse,” said Lanuille, raising her
finger in admonition. The adept’s tattoos pulsed, flexing her
talent in Kettna’s face.

“
You might be my senior, but you are not my judge. The Order
has not instructed me to recognise your authority on any matter.
You have your edict and I have mine. Do what you must, just don’t
get in my way.” With that, the novice stepped around Lanuille and
walked on to the city. Damn that woman if she thought she could
bully her with threats of expulsion. What would she know? She’d
never have to walk the line of supplementation. Never have to sneak
a potion just to get through a practical, or stoop to worse to pass
an exam. Lanuille could suck Limbo and still have mana to burn. Why
did the gods dress up an empty head with magic and make Kettna
suffer through drought?

The
novice refused to give a look behind to see if the adepts were
following. Why give them the satisfaction? Besides, from the
direction of the uneasy stares, Kettna knew that the escort of
mages followed her like a caravan guard. Soon she would discover
how well they kept up in the city. If Lanuille and the conversing
men were going to have to protect her, surely it was important to
test their effectiveness.

Lake
Road curved up from the docks. Leading up to Calimska’s outer
walls, the sheds and storehouses thinned and were replaced by shady
trees and flowering meadows dotted with idle sheep. Silk Gate was
crowded with wagons, heading back to farm to beat the evenfall.
People on foot lined up to get back into the city before dark set
in and the curfew tax came down.

Kettna
took her place in line to enter through the side pedestrian door of
the gatehouse. A city guard strolled down the line, eyeing the
citizens. “Copper in! Copper in! Get your shine out!” A single
copper was nothing for a mage, but for others it was half a day’s
labour. This discouraged transients working inside and spending
outside the walls. The Calimskan guilds had manipulated the
economics of entry and exit to favour established local businesses
for the benefit of all. When the shimmering magical shield went up
in dragon season, the tariff for entry sharpened enough to
penetrate a rich merchant’s vault. It was an effective and divisive
deterrent allowing only rich outsiders to seek refuge from rogue
dragons. Anything less would mean Calimska suffocated in a plague
of poverty. What’s more, it ensured that local workers inside the
walls thought twice before seeking their fortune outside. Calimskan
economics secured power firmly with the guilds. Business ruled
here, not a monarch with sycophantic lords, sucking life and labour
from the peasantry.

Her
father, the Chamberlain of the Order, had told Kettna stories of
rising discontent in the city. Anti-Guilders, they called
themselves, a league seeking a fairer system. Kettna had read their
political pamphlets, and saw merit in some of what they said.
However, for every civil act they engaged in, they behaved like
hooligans stirring up a fight.

A
raggedly dressed woman hawked oranges up the line and her shrill
call distracted Kettna’s thoughts. “Oranges for clippings! Halve a
copper and take four gold!”

The
guard waved his arm at the peddler. “Off with ya now! Quit the
line.”

“
Ain’t breakin' no law. I’ll sell what I want outside the
gates. ”

The
guard advanced on her, cudgel at his side. “Mind your tongue,
woman.”

“
Or what? Drag me inside so’s to arrest me?” The woman spat on
the guard’s boots and ran.

The
guard dashed after her and snatched the hawker’s arm, dragging her
down in a spill of oranges. The guard raised a tight fist and laid
into the woman’s face. He raised it again, but Kettna was there,
seizing his wrist and pulling the guard off the woman. “Enough! Let
her be.”

The
guard turned on Kettna, a red knuckled fist ready to lay into her
too, until the adepts ran up to deter the attack. Four mages of the
Order gave the guard pause. “I meant no harm to your
lot.”