Circle Of Magic - Tris's Story Part 13

"No, that's all right," said Niko, holding up a hand to silence him. "Your lump?" he asked Daja.

"There's a lump in the thread circle for each of us. I touched mine, and I felt better.

Not as strong as the rest, when Briar called for help, but lots better than when I got up."

When Sandry returned, Niko said, "I wish to see this string of yours."

She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "Tris is crying. She's never been under catapult attack before. She's frightened."

"So are we all," Niko said. "I will go to her, but in a moment. The string, Lady Sandrilene." He held out one long, thin hand.

Her little nostrils flared, as if she scented trouble. "It's ours."

"It could have got you into trouble that all of your teachers combined could not have saved you from. I will have it, if you please."

His black eyes met her blue ones, and held them. Watching, Daja and Aymery held their breaths.

It was Sandry who looked away. She fished the circle of thread from a small pouch that hung around her neck, inside her dress. She hesitated, then gave it to Niko.

The moment he touched it, he jerked, dropping it to the floor. "G.o.ds above!" he whispered.

"What is it?" Aymery enquired. "A magical artifact?"

"It's a bijili, isn't it?" Daja wanted to know.

Aymery looked at her.

"The mimanders use them. They keep things in bijili -winds, or strength for when the jishen come and they're worn out, or even just for light. A bijili can be a crystal, or a gla.s.s bubble" - she stooped, and picked up the circlet of thread -"or knots in a string."

Niko opened his handkerchief on the table, and pointed to it. Daja reluctantly put the circle on to the linen square. He folded up the cloth, and put it into his s.h.i.+rt pocket.

"Until the four of you learn control, I'd rather see you play with coals from the fire than something like this, even if you somehow created it yourselves."

"How about we play with boom-stones?" asked Briar, leaning against his doorframe.

"I wouldn't mind getting a look at one of those - before it went boom, anyway. Long before."

"As would most of us," Niko said grimly. "I've been watching them all afternoon, and can't for the life of me tell what's inside their containers. They're even better spelled against magic than battlefire. If we knew how they were made, we-"

"Why can't you put me down?" demanded a cross voice outside. "People will think I'm dying if they see me carried in by two hulking lads-"

Briar smiled dreamily. "She's home."

Lark entered first, looking as tired as everyone else. Then two armoured warriors, a dedicate and a novice, eased through the door sideways. They had made a chair of their arms, and were carrying Rosethorn between them. She was soot-streaked, her hair black with sweat. Despite the irritated vigour in her voice, she had so little strength that she couldn't sit up, only lean against the novice.

It was Kirel; he looked positively hara.s.sed. "We brought her," he told Niko. "And believe me, it wasn't easy."

CHAPTER TEN.

Exhaustion rolled in with the fog that Skyfire had ordered. Once he'd made his peace with Tris, Niko tried to meditate with the children, to work on their grip on their emotions while working magic, but gave up after first Briar, then Daja, then he himself nodded off. Supper came up from the Hub, but no one wanted the trouble of setting the table or of cleanup later. Those with the strength nibbled on bread, cheese, fresh garden vegetables and smoked fish from the cold-box; everyone but Aymery seemed half-asleep.

No one wanted to go to the Earth temple baths after supper, either, but in the end the need to get clean was stronger than weariness. The children, Aymery, Lark, Frostpine and Niko managed the trip to the baths.

Briar made certain that he was scrubbed and out well before the men; the girls and Lark, he knew from past experience, would take a while to finish. Bone-weary as he felt, he still managed a weak trot back to Discipline, Little Bear at his heels.

Rosethorn was sound asleep when he crept by her open door. He doubted that she would waken for some time yet, which was all to the good. If she caught him going through Aymery's belongings, she would make his life a misery.

That he had to do so he was sure of. He liked Tris's cousin, but he had liked a great many people in Deadman's District that he couldn't trust as far as he could throw them. Aymery made him feel untrusting. He tried to tell himself he wasn't jealous of the way Tris looked at her family-approved mage cousin, the one who'd been kind to her, but living with Rosethorn tended to strip the illusions from a boy. Briar was jealous, a bit, but he told himself that had nothing to do with it. Something about Aymery was not right.

Before they'd left, the boy had prepared a bowl of the uneaten chicken stew, carefully going through it for any bones. Now he put the bowl on the floor for Little Bear. As fast an eater as the pup was, it would still take him a while to devour so much. Eating, he would care about nothing else -like where Briar was - until he was done.

Before he got to work in Sandry's room, Briar made sure that its front window was open. The rest of Discipline's residents would come in the back. If he left the room through the front window, and walked around to re-enter the cottage through Rosethorn's workshop, no one should guess where he'd actually been.

Aymery hadn't brought as much as Briar had expected: a small chest with plenty of bra.s.s fittings and a large, impressive-looking lock; a larger chest that stood open in the middle of the floor; two saddle-bags. The larger chest was a third full of books; the rest was clothing. He could find no hidden compartments. A look into the saddle- bags revealed necessaries like shaving-gear, money, jewellery, a travelling writing- desk, a few more books. Now, here was Tris's cousin, liking to dress well - too well for a student, thought Briar, who had seen many when they came to Deadman's District for rough fun - who'd mentioned a stay of some weeks the night before. He didn't have enough pretty clothes for that. If he were a poor student, as most of them were, then he'd have a reason for a small wardrobe - a small, cheap wardrobe. But he wasn't poor, was he? If he were, then why did he buy a shaving-mirror of the finest Hataran gla.s.s, and silver-backed brushes and combs? If he were poor, how did he pay for the small pouch of earrings and a collection of G.o.ds-amulets in precious metals?

The trunk with his books, and his saddlebags, were all serviceable enough, and had seen plenty of wear. They looked like normal student gear. He might well have brought those to the university from Capchen.

But the smaller trunk... The smaller trunk was new, and it had cost Aymery something.

Here were contradictions, then. Being poor was the only excuse for a small wardrobe for several weeks' stay - but everything about the goods he did have screamed of money. If he were a rich student, then he would have packed enough for a lengthy stay, and he hadn't. Aymery was lying about something, that was plain.

Briar knelt to examine the smaller chest. Merchants, he thought, shaking his head.

Only a merchant would buy such an expensive-looking piece of trash. The pricey wood inlays were veneer, thin sheets of costly wood laid over cheap stuff. There were cracks in them already. He could pop the wide straps off with a chisel and his own hands; the nails that bolted them to the wood were no st.u.r.dier than the veneer. And the lock! The only reason to buy this item would be for so large and ominous-looking a lock. It was the kind of lock that screamed "safe" - and it was no safer than a bread- box.

Briar appreciated a merchant's son's trust in craftsmen. It had made his life easier, back in his thieving days. It would make it easier now.

Reaching into his waistband, he drew out the slim packet of lock-picks he'd made since his arrival at Winding Circle. Normally he kept the packet under a loose board in his floor.

Niko frowned on him so much as carrying a hide-out knife for protection - which he did anyway, because there were plenty of respectable uses for a knife. There were none for lock-picks.

He chose two, and delicately inserted them in the keyhole. Immediately he felt the burn of standard protection-spells running through his fingers. Softly he whispered the words of the standard cancelling-spell that he'd had to learn by heart when he was four. The burning stopped. A nudge of one pick, a tickle of the other, and the lock opened as smoothly as b.u.t.ter.

"I love me," he whispered.

The box was divided into velvet-lined compartments under a velvet-covered top tray.

He recognized items in the tray: a deck of fortune-telling cards in its silk bag, sticks of chalk for drawing magical circles, shallow bowls for things like herbs, water, oil and salt, a handful of talismans for the working of spells. Here were ink-sticks in various colours, stone trays for mixing ink, drawing-brushes and reed pens. All of these things would be used for the working of magic: it was the basic kit. He lifted out the tray.

Light blazed, so bright that it nearly blinded him. Briar sat back on his heels, knowing that if he stuck a hand into that light, it would burn like acid. The funny thing was that he knew how to break this spell - the secret was expensive, but not at all hard to learn.

Spells to foil common protection-magic could be bought and used by anyone, whether they had magic or not, which didn't exactly make him respect Aymery's judgement.

True, he'd said he was specializing in illusion-magic, but what was Briar supposed to think of a man who couldn't be bothered to put his own spells on his treasures?

He never looked for any kind of search, a voice whispered in Briar's mind. He expected everyone to believe in what he claimed to be. He expected to deal only with his own kind, not someone used to thieves and nasty folk who talk one way and do another.

Briar made the signs of the more costly charm, and blew on the light. It vanished. In the compartments were some bottles, packets and something square, in a velvet bag.

Picking up one of the bottles, Briar sniffed, and nearly sneezed. Cinnamon oil and poppy. The container was half-empty.

"Bad, Aymery," he murmured. "Very, very bad."

One vial contained a grey powder. He glanced at the label. While he could only read individual letters, and not even all of those, he wasn't stupid. Rosethorn had a bottle labelled with most of these same marks. She'd said it held a sleeping mixture. She had also taught him the meaning of a number of signs commonly put on labels. One of two on the bottle full of grey powder meant "extremely strong". He didn't know the other, but memorized it. Perhaps one of the girls would know what it was.

The other bottles had no meaning for him at all. Opening the bag, he drew out the flat thing inside. It was a mirror, set in a gla.s.s frame shot with bubbles of gold. The mirror itself was black and glossy.

Inside it, shadowy forms moved. A voice in it said, "My dear sister, you worry too much. Things are nearly in place."

Briar dropped the mirror back into its container, and thrust it into its compartment.

Hurriedly he began to put everything back: he could hear Aymery and Niko approaching as they talked about some book or other.

Crawling out the window, he wondered, If all the scrying-mirrors in Winding Circle broke last night - why is his still whole?

It wasn't long before everyone went to bed. Niko stayed at Discipline, dozing off in a big chair padded with blankets and cus.h.i.+ons. Even Little Bear was sound asleep, on his back with his paws in the air, in front of the cottage altar. He hadn't so much as stirred when everyone came in from the baths.

Tris was the last child to go to bed, saying goodnight to Aymery - the only one still awake - once her nestling got his last meal of the day. She had put bed off partly because she disliked the thought of that steep climb to the attic. Partly it had been listening to Aymery talk of his university studies; to her relief, he hadn't mentioned going to see her father after that first conversation. Partly it was the thick fog that now pressed against the cottage, m.u.f.fling even the noise made by the continuing trickle of refugees coming down the road from North Gate. Tris hated to be inside during fog.

She wanted to be out, walking around in the middle of a cloud that had managed to come to her.

And if they throw more boom-stones in spite of the fog? she wondered as she hauled herself over the last step and on to the attic floor. A fine thing, to be out in the open and have one of those things drop on your head!

She looked up at the planks that hid the thatch over their heads. How well might the roof hold up, if struck by one of those things? Certainly not as well as the deck of the galley that had been struck by one that morning.

Shurri Fire-Sword, defend us, she thought, hurrying to her room. Trader and Bookkeeper, Trickster, I don't care who, keep those things off us!

"You took long enough," Briar said from the shadows by her window.

For a moment she was so frightened that she thought she would faint. Groping one- handed, she found her empty water-basin nearby - and threw it at him.

He ducked. The basin clanged to the floor.

"Tris?" Lark called tiredly from downstairs.

"Sorry!" she yelled.

Briar picked up the basin, examining it. "Now you have a dent."

"I ought to dent you," she hissed.

"You tried." White teeth flashed in the gloom. "You missed."

Tris gently placed her nestling - who hadn't so much as peeped when she threw the basin - on her desk. Finding her steel and flint, she lit a candle with hands that shook.

"How did you sneak in here?" she demanded, still keeping her voice down.

He yawned, and pointed out the window. Tris understood. She had left this room sometimes by dropping on to pillows that were conveniently placed on the roof of Rosethorn's workshop, then jumping to the ground. If an ungainly thing like her could do that, someone like Briar could easily climb up. "Aren't you too tired for this?"

"What I had to tell you can't wait."

"/ say it can. Get out."

"Listen, Coppercurls - your cousin's as wrong as they come. And don't throw anything else; the grown-ups need their rest."

For a moment her throat worked, but no sound came out. Air gushed around the room, making her wall-hanging flap. She wrapped her fingers around the nest to hold it still, and finally squeaked, "How dare you! How-"

His eyes met hers; the words dried to ash in her mouth. This was Briar. They had kept each other alive during the earthquake, and watched clouds get born together. She'd only just started to teach him to read, but she could tell already that he would love it as much as she did. He had kept her from falling off a wall only that morning.

"Please say you're joking," she whispered, and sat heavily on the bed.

Now that she had calmed down, he sat beside her, and told her what he'd found.

"Where's he getting his money?" he asked when he was done. "You don't buy the things he's got on a student's allowance-"

"How would you know about student allowances?" she asked, trying to braid her unruly hair. The air was gusting again, plucking locks from her hands.

"I learned awful quick it's not worth the trouble to pick their pockets," he said. The hair on the back of his neck had started to p.r.i.c.kle. There was more going on in here than just the wind picking up. "They hardly ever had two coppers to rub together - if they had anything, they spent it on books." When she made no comment, he went on, "From what you say about your family, they won't pay extra money to anyone, even their future mage, till after he's shown what he's good for. So where's he getting his money? And maybe he says he came to study for weeks, but he didn't pack like it."

"He could have left his other things in storage at the guesthouse." Tris spoke dully, trying to reject what he was saying. Her heart thudded. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled, tingling. At that moment she hated Briar for telling her these things, for sounding so sure.

"I bet it was him that I saw on the Hub staircase, with the invisibility spell - but why was he there? I bet whatever blew up the stuff in the seeing-place, he put it there."

"You never saw a face. It could've been somebody else." Why hadn't he just gone straight to Niko, or Rosethorn? The tickling along her skin got hotter. Now she could feel her pulse banging in the veins of her neck.

"Why sneak into the kitchens?" Briar wanted to know.

"Don't tell me Gorse would notice everybody in that madhouse today."

"But Gorse does. H-" Briar yawned, looked out the window - and froze.