‘The wall is about to fall!’ Though only an earth mage would sense the strain in the close-fitted and mortared joints, the shifting in the foundations below the ground, Jilseth knew beyond any possibility of doubt that the press of this crowd would soon overwhelm the masonry.
Mellitha stared at her in momentary disbelief. ‘Use your magic to hold it firm.’
‘Then those being crushed against the stones by the rest will surely die.’ Jilseth had already glimpsed unconscious faces in the crowd, only saved from falling to be trampled to death by the press of people around them.
‘If the wall falls, those closest will fall with it,’ Velindre said grimly. ‘They’ll be crushed underfoot by the rest rushing forward to attack us or to loot the house.’
Unable to deny that horrible truth, Mellitha narrowed her eyes. ‘Where is Merenel? If we have a fire mage, we can form a nexus—’
‘Do you honestly believe we could work quintessential magic with rocks raining down on our heads?’ Velindre demanded before glancing at Jilseth. ‘Besides, Merenel has gone back to Hadrumal to tell Planir what’s amiss.’
Jilseth felt another tremor running through the wall’s foundations. The masonry was close to fracturing in a handful of places. She reached deep into the earth to buttress the stones with the memory of the mountains they had been hewn from. It was no easy task, standing on delta mud threaded through with the city’s constrained streams.
‘How much longer can you defend those gates?’ Velindre challenged Mellitha. ‘How long until Jilseth exhausts herself keeping that wall intact? I am already weary of pounding bricks into dust.’
‘What do you suggest?’ Mellitha asked Velindre acidly. ‘A wall of fire to burn the closest to ashes and send the rest fleeing in terror? An ice storm to freeze them to the ground and bad luck to those who lose fingers or feet to the frost? How many friends will that win Hadrumal? How will that reassure those merchants harassed by Aldabreshin demands to shun all wizardry?’
Before the blonde magewoman could answer, an uprush of flames framed the top of the gate. Oil or pitch had been hurled against the wood swiftly followed by a burning brand. Mellitha’s eyes glistened green; unshed tears reflecting the emerald radiance quenching the fire beyond any possibility of relighting.
A scream rose above the tumult beyond the wall only to be cut short with eerie abruptness. Then countless screams and shrieks of pain ripped through the silence.
Mellitha spun a globe of swirling water out of the empty air between her hands. The ensorcelled water flowed into a floating disc and a vision of the street outside floated across the water’s surface.
Before Jilseth could marvel at this unsupported scrying, she was shocked at the mayhem it revealed.
The Relshazri Watch had arrived to find themselves unable to force a path through the crowd with their polearms’ staves. So they were using their weapons’ blades. Blood glistened on churned mud where cobbles had been dug from underfoot. Bodies slumped motionless or curled in agonies around some murderous thrust. Those wounded who could still walk lurched and stumbled away. Those beyond reach of the biting steel took flight as best they could.
Not everyone was fleeing. Jilseth watched, dry-mouthed, as a double handful of men and boys drew up into a ragged line, armed with knives and swords. Even in the uncertain moonlight they looked Aldabreshin in features and complexion despite their mainland clothing. Were they Archipelagan born living in Relshaz or some of the many born of mixed blood? Did that matter?
‘This will be a slaughter.’ She turned to the other magewomen. ‘We could keep them apart—’
‘No,’ Mellitha said bleakly. ‘Using magic against the Watch will turn the whole Magistracy against wizardry.’
‘Those Aldabreshi won’t thank you for your help.’ Velindre was equally sombre. ‘They’ll only seek to kill you more quickly to cleanse themselves of magic’s stain with your blood.’
Jilseth felt sick to her stomach as she saw the Watch sergeant gesture with his halberd, warning off some stragglers caught between the urge to run for safety and a callous desire to see what happened next.
One of the belligerents hurled a knife. It struck a Watchman in the neck. The blade fell away, leaving the man unharmed thanks to his steel gorget. The Watch contingent levelled their polearms and charged.
A bearded man in a long tunic died skewered on a halberd’s point. A boy tried to attack the Watchman wielding it. The Watchman pulled his weapon free to rip open the boy’s belly with a scything stroke.
One man had retreated to wrap a cloak around his off-hand, a curved Aldabreshi sword in the other. As a Watchman approached, he darted forward to get inside the polearm’s reach. He hacked at the Watchman’s foremost wrist while looking to tangle the halberd’s deadly blade in the cloak.
The Watchman stepped adroitly aside. Swiftly flipping his weapon end to end put the blade beyond reach of the smothering cloth. The same movement smashed his assailant’s sword arm with the iron-shod foot. The man dropped to his knees. The Watchman spun his halberd again. This time the killing blade hacked his assailant’s head from his shoulders. Blood soared into the air, glittering in the moonlight.
Another swordsman thrust at a Watchman. The armoured man used the flat of his halberd’s blade to force the sword down to the broken earth and cobbles. As the attacker stumbled forward, the Watchman swept his blade up the sword and into the man’s undefended face.
Jilseth longed to block her ears with magic to silence the screams. She wanted to look away from Mellitha’s scrying. But she would have to bear witness to this slaughter for Planir. She wondered what the Archmage would do if he was here. Were he and Merenel watching this carnage through a scrying wrought in Hadrumal?
Mellitha heaved a sigh. ‘That’s over at least.’
The last defiant attacker threw down his knife as his remaining allies took to their heels. Half the Watchmen pursued them while the rest subdued those few who’d surrendered with brutal blows.
‘What will happen to them?’ Jilseth wondered aloud.
‘They’ll be thrown in the Magistracy’s lock-up until they’re sold as slaves,’ Velindre said sourly. ‘This night’s work may weigh in their favour. Some Aldabreshi will want to own men who’ve fought so bravely against wizardry.’
A fist hammered on the gate outside, a courteous yet uncompromising voice shouting. ‘Madam Esterlin. Open for the Magistracy, if you please.’
Mellitha let the extraordinary scrying dissolve into a cloud of mist and gestured. The gate swung open. ‘Yes?’
The Watch sergeant bowed low, though Jilseth noted his eyes scanning the gardens, the stables and the house. The men behind him gaped more openly at Mellitha’s opulent residence.
The sergeant produced a twice-folded and thrice-sealed letter from a pouch at his belt. ‘This is for you.’
Mellitha took it and examined the seals. ‘From the Magistracy, no less.’
Velindre stepped forward to question the sergeant. ‘Has there been much trouble in the city tonight?’
‘For the mageborn? Yes.’
Jilseth was about to ask what he meant when Mellitha set the parchment in her hand ablaze with scarlet magefire.
Even Velindre was taken aback. ‘What is it?’
‘I am ordered to leave the city.’ Mellitha clenched her fist around the blood-red flames. ‘For the sake of continued good order.’
‘I am ordered to defend your property until circumstances permit your return.’
The sergeant took an involuntary step backwards as Mellitha glared at him.
‘Really? And what are your orders if I choose not to leave?’
The man squared his shoulders. ‘To leave you and your property unguarded.’
Jilseth recalled Velindre’s warning that even mundane mainlanders knew that any wizard’s strength must eventually fail.
The blonde magewoman snapped imperious fingers to demand the sergeant’s attention. ‘How long do we have to arrange our affairs?’
‘I am to be gone before dawn.’ Mellitha’s voice broke somewhere between grief and anger.
‘Then guard those gates while we make ready to depart.’ Velindre narrowed her eyes ominously at the sergeant.
He bowed again, even lower. ‘Madam Mage.’
As the sergeant and his men retreated, Mellitha gestured. The gates slammed closed and she rounded on Velindre, incredulity outweighing her anger.
‘You think I will abandon my home to be looted by the Magistracy’s lackeys? That I will turn my household onto the streets to face that mob unprotected? Shall we abandon Kerrit to their mercies as well?’
‘Master Kerrit is dead.’ Jilseth hadn’t meant to break the grievous news so bluntly but Mellitha’s attack startled her into the truth.
‘He—’ The older magewoman stared at her, appalled. ‘But the priest—?’
‘There was nothing his lore could do.’ Jilseth’s eyes stung with painful recollection. ‘Temple guards are watching Kerrit’s house though. That should keep his property safe.’
‘There is nothing more we can do here,’ Velindre said forcefully. ‘Do you intend to set the whole of the Magistracy against Hadrumal?’
The echo of Mellitha’s earlier words hung in the silence between them.
‘Very well.’ She began walking towards the house.
Jilseth found this abrupt calmness more unnerving than Mellitha’s earlier fury. She followed Velindre up the steps and onto the threshold. A handful of young men, as handsome as the magewoman’s hirelings invariably were, stood in the hallway with an equal number of women ranging from a fresh-faced girl twisting nervous hands to a stolid female of Mellitha’s own age perfumed with the lingering savour of kitchen spices.
‘I’m sorry beyond words that this festival has become a nightmare for our household,’ Mellitha said crisply. ‘I wish that we could wake from an evil dream prompted by too much white brandy. Alas, that will not happen and now we have been forsaken by the Magistracy.’
The magewoman drew a breath, visibly struggling to rein in her temper.
‘I have a duty to keep you all safe and that means I must take you to Hadrumal. I will see that you go wherever you wish after that but I cannot allow you to risk trying to cross the city tonight. Please gather up your most precious belongings. Please make haste.’
Jilseth watched the silent servants scurry away before raising a hand to request Velindre’s attention. ‘Will we take them with us in a collective spell or individually one by one? Where will we take them?’
‘We’ll go to the sundial courtyard in Wellery’s Hall.’ Mellitha said decisively. ‘Rafrid and I have long been friends.’
‘What do you want to take with you?’ Velindre glanced around the hallway and through the open door into the long room overlooking the garden.
‘What should I take?’ Mellitha raised her finely shaped brows. ‘My sitting room furniture? Gowns from my dressing chamber? Why should I want any reminders of everything which I cannot salvage? What of my happy memories of raising my children here? My impeccable reputation among Relshaz’s merchants, both as a most discerning customer and their truest confidante concerning their taxes?’
She bit her lip and turned away, only to stop short. ‘My horses. They must be taken to the Watch stables. Tanilo is spending the festival with his family. He can collect them—’
‘I’ll tell the sergeant.’ Velindre vanished to reappear by the gates, hauling them open with sapphire magic before giving the Watchman his orders with forceful gestures.
‘We can get a message to Tanilo once we’re in Hadrumal.’ Jilseth hated to think of the magewoman’s faithful coachman not knowing that his mistress and the other servants were safe. That he might already have heard of this uproar and been caught up in the mayhem outside didn’t bear contemplating.
‘Madam.’ Nishail struggled into the hallway dragging a heavy chest. ‘Your jewels.’
For one appalling moment, Jilseth thought Mellitha would lash out at the boy. Instead the magewoman smiled at him with apparent gratitude.
‘Do put that down before you suffer a rupture.’ She clapped her hands as the other servants returned. ‘Everyone stand in a circle.’
The servants meekly piled their belongings around the chest and ringed it, linking hands. They looked at Mellitha with unfailing trust.
‘I will lead the spell.’ Velindre reappeared on the far side.
Jilseth felt the chill of elemental air pass behind her back. She caught a swirling wisp and braided her own grasp on such wizardry into it. Now she was bound to Velindre’s magecraft. She felt Mellitha do the same. A rush of fire swiftly followed the azure breeze and then Jilseth felt the smoothness of Mellitha’s wizardry coursing towards her. Binding her own understanding of water into the spell she channelled the blended elements onwards to Velindre.
She followed the flow of water with her own magecraft, reaching out with her affinity to the distant stones of Hadrumal’s towers. Quarried from the wizard isle’s own hills, they shared their essence with the minerals in her own bones, island born as she was. Jilseth felt Velindre take firm hold of the interwoven magic and was momentarily surprised to realise how evenly their wizardry was now matched in their respective disciplines.
Threads of magic only visible to mage senses shifted into a rainbow haze. Magelight visible to all bleached the mist to purest white.