The door creaked, and Dev hastily sat back. Lena poked her head into the study. “Dev, the housekeeper says your room is prepared. After your journey, I thought you might like the chance for a hot bath and some clean clothes.”
Dev stood. “Sure. Khalmet knows I’ve got a minecart’s worth of coal grit to scrub off.”
“Perhaps afterward I can show you the garden,” Kiran said. “It’s really quite beautiful.” Unlike the wards in the study, those on the garden walls held no element of scrying, and the splashing of the central fountain would cover the sound of conversation. If he could touch Dev’s torc, see the spell pattern Marten had set within…spells could be disrupted if a charm was physically damaged or altered in a spot critical to the pattern’s flow. Then again, even if Kiran could circumvent the charm so Dev could safely cross the wards, he didn’t know what Dev might do to help Melly after that. Sneaking into the Arcanum had seemed difficult enough. Dev would never make it to the border before Marten and the others noticed his absence.
“The garden sounds good,” Dev agreed. The glint of wary hope in his eyes brought an answering thread of warmth to Kiran’s chest. Whatever Dev’s plan, Kiran wouldn’t fail him. Not after Dev had given up so much for Kiran’s sake.
* * *
“Khalmet’s hand, I can’t get over how green it is here.” Dev surveyed the garden, looking bemused. Kiran knew the feeling. The garden’s high stone walls enclosed flowerbeds and vine-covered arbors whose lush vibrancy far outmatched any he’d seen in Ninavel. But then, water was no jealously rationed resource here. Kiran still marveled at the mildness of Alathia’s climate. In Ninavel, summer’s searing heat kept even the lowest of servants from venturing outside while the sun was high. Yet here in Tamanath, he stood with Dev in full sun on a midsummer afternoon and felt no more than pleasant warmth.
Dev’s gaze settled on the walls. “Damn,” he muttered. “They know how to place wards. And no trees or anything nearby high enough to let me jump clear. Can’t even get close enough for a good look, thanks to those rosebushes.” Roses in shades of deepest red and violet lined the base of the walls, their canes bristling with thorns. Fifteen feet above the blooms, black whorls and loops marked the gray stone, warding every inch of the wall’s top.
“Come see the fountain,” Kiran said. At the garden’s center, low wooden benches bracketed an obsidian sculpture of four rearing swans. Water arced from the swans’ beaks to splash in a pond dotted with floating, jewel-toned flowers. Kiran led Dev around the fountain’s back side. When he was sure the swans blocked the view from the house windows, he halted.
“I’ll try and read your collaring charm’s pattern,” he told Dev. “Hold still.” Kiran reached for Dev’s torc—and jerked his fingers back, hissing, as fire seared his nerves.
“What’s wrong?” Dev demanded.
“Marten warded your charm against me.” Of course; the healers had taken several vials of blood from Kiran during their examination of him. Marten must have used one to design and key a warding spell. Remembering that casual brush of Marten’s finger over Dev’s torc, Kiran felt a twinge of admiration for the man’s skill.
“Shit.” Dev aimed a fierce glare at the house. “Should’ve known. Don’t suppose you have any kalumite?”
“Kalumite?” Kiran had never heard of it.
“It’s a mineral found in sandstone. Glassblowers and mosaicists use it for color. But if you mix it with copper and oil in the right ratios, you can burn out a charm. The cliffs in Cheltman had veins of it, but I didn’t get a chance to get any before I got dragged back here.”
“Burn out a charm…” Kiran dropped to sit on a bench, thoughts racing. The kalumite and copper mix must provide an alternate conduit for the charm’s magic, diverting it from its intended paths in an uncontrolled release of power. “There are geological texts in the study. If I can identify kalumite’s properties, perhaps I can devise another way to produce the same effect.”
Dev thumped a fist on the slate rim of the fountain bowl. “Good. Once past the house wards, I’ll go find the nearest merchant house that deals in exports to Ninavel. In high summer, merchanters send dispatches out by courier every few days. I’ll sneak in and slip a message for Cara into the next batch marked for delivery to Ninavel. I know a few secrets that can get her audience with a ganglord capable of brokering a deal with Sechaveh, and even keep her from getting stabbed in the back, if she plays it right.”
Hesitantly, Kiran said, “But it’ll take some time for us to circumvent the wards, and then weeks for a message to reach Ninavel. Won’t it arrive too late?”
Dev’s shoulders slumped. “Probably.” When he turned, his stark desperation hit Kiran like a blow. “That’s the best I can think of for now. I also mean to scout the Arcanum, try and find if they’ve got a stash of confiscated illegal charms. If we could get hold of that old amulet of yours, the one that blocks magic—”
“Ah! There you two are.” Marten strode around the fountain, his smile as cheerful as ever. Dev shut his mouth and leaned against a bench as casually as if he and Kiran had merely been discussing the garden’s splendor. Kiran tried not to look guilty.
Marten’s round face settled into serious lines. “Kiran, I have an important matter to discuss with you.”
Kiran’s stomach curdled. Was the Council reconsidering their decision to give him asylum from Ruslan? “What is it?”
“I know you understand the ramifications of the recent earth tremors,” Marten said. “I’m sure you’ve guessed the tremors are not the sole source of our concern.”
Kiran nodded. The lump in his stomach grew heavier yet.
“In short, we’ve seen some alarming fluctuations in the border wards, of late.”
Kiran shut his eyes. He’d suspected since the moment he’d seen those dismaying voids in Stevannes’s spell. Yet to hear it confirmed…the icy ball of fear within grew razor-sharp claws. “How much longer will your wards hold against Ruslan?”
“I fear I can’t discuss the wards’ specific state,” Marten said. “I can say this: Ruslan may not be the cause of the damage.” At Kiran’s incredulous look, he gave a mirthless chuckle. “Oh, we’d certainly assumed his involvement. Yet today we received a dispatch from our ambassador in Ninavel that throws the issue into serious doubt.”
Kiran exchanged a wary, disbelieving glance with Dev. Ruslan was subtle and clever enough to have found a way to cover his spellcasting, but Kiran wouldn’t be fooled. From the skeptical scowl on Dev’s face, he felt much the same.
“What did the dispatch say?” Kiran asked.
Marten trailed a hand in the fountain bowl and flicked water from his fingers. “Our ambassador believes the quakes are related to a series of magical disturbances in Ninavel that have killed several mages and appear to be aimed at disrupting the city’s supply of water.”
“What?” Dev straightened, his eyes narrowing. Kiran knew his concern. The Painted Valley held no natural sources of water. If the magic that kept Ninavel’s cisterns replenished were to fail, the lives of thousands of untalented residents would be at risk.
Marten said to Dev, “There have been no serious shortages as yet, and Lord Sechaveh has been keeping the matter quiet. So far as the city’s populace knows, a few mages are dead, nothing more. Even our ambassador hasn’t succeeded in learning much else. But she believes Ninavel is the real target, and not Alathia.”
Could Marten be right? No. This had to be some ploy of Ruslan’s meant to distract the Council until it was too late. Kiran rubbed his head, where an ache was building.
Dev slouched against the bench with a sharp, sarcastic grin. “Now you think it’s Ninavel in trouble and not your precious border, the Council’s gonna just sit back and watch Sechaveh scramble, is that it?”
“You don’t understand,” Marten said. “It doesn’t matter if the damage to our wards is merely a byproduct of someone’s spellcasting against Ninavel. We can’t afford to let anything disrupt them.”
He turned to Kiran, grave and intent. “The Council has authorized me to take a team to Ninavel to investigate. Kiran, I’d like to bring you with us.”
Shock set Kiran’s heart hammering. He shook his head in mute, stunned denial. Return to the city Ruslan called home? How could Marten even think to ask it of him?
Marten said, “Kiran, I will not force you to go. But if you help us stop this disruption to our wards, then upon your return, the Council will release Dev from his sentence.”
Kiran wanted so badly to earn Dev’s freedom. But to face Ruslan again…no. He couldn’t. The very idea congealed his blood and left him trembling. Yet shame squeezed his heart at his cowardice. Dev had taken on both Simon Levanian and Ruslan without a single glimmer of mage talent to help him, all for Kiran’s sake.
“So I’m your gods-damned carrot again?” Dev snapped. “Tell me you’re joking, Martennan. Take him to Ninavel? In what taphtha vision does that make sense? Ruslan’ll show up in a heartbeat, and I may not know much about magic, but I’m pretty sure he can kick your ass.”
Marten said, “It’s true that blood magic is the most powerful way for a single mage to cast a spell.” Kiran started a protest, and Marten held up a hand. “Yes, Kiran, I know your channeled spells involve two mages, but only the focus mage is actively casting. The channeler’s role is essentially passive. In any case, my point is that Alathian magic is not designed to be cast by a single mage. Even blood magic can be countered by more subtle methods if enough mages are working in tandem.”
“Even if you could counter channeled spells, what of my mark-bond?” Kiran demanded. “The moment I pass your border wards, Ruslan can control me. Unless…wait, you’ve found a way to dissolve the bond?” Kiran leaped to his feet, hope a fire in his veins.
Marten hastened to shake his head, his expression regretful. “I’m sorry, Kiran, but no. We haven’t found a way to break the binding, not without killing you.”
Kiran sank back onto the bench. Of course the Alathians hadn’t found a way. Foolish of him to imagine they could discover a method so quickly, when every scholar agreed the mark-bond was unbreakable while both mages lived.
“We can’t break it, but we can prevent him from using it,” Marten said.
Against his will, interest sparked. “Truly, you can block the bond? How?” The
kizhenvya
amulet Kiran had worn to flee Ninavel had protected him for a few days, but Ruslan had come terribly close to worming his way past the amulet’s spellwork before Kiran crossed the Alathian border. If the Alathians knew some more permanent method, perhaps he wouldn’t have to be so dependent on their border wards for protection.
“Let me show you.” Marten drew out an amulet on a thin silver chain.
Kiran leaned forward. The amulet was made entirely of twisted strands of metal, with no gemstones or crystals set amidst them. Even more strange, the individual strands appeared to be of different metals, which Kiran would have thought impractical for proper pattern matching. He thought he recognized silver, copper, and gold, but several strands had a dull greenish striation that was completely unfamiliar.
Marten held out the amulet. “Go ahead, take a look.”
Kiran touched a metal strand. A rippling veil of fire washed over his inner sight, so blindingly bright he gasped and yanked his finger back.
Dev tensed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just…” Kiran touched the amulet again, gingerly. “There’s a lot of power stored here.” It reminded him of the vast, sleeping magic lurking in Simon’s border charm, but Simon’s charm used gemstones as reservoirs, not mere metal, and the energies flowed in a traditional—albeit horribly complicated—set of contained pathways, unlike the chaotic rush of the amulet’s magic.
“Without a pattern, how can you direct the magic?” Kiran asked.
Marten grinned. “I’ll demonstrate. I know your binding interferes with your senses, but you can feel my soul’s energy, correct?”
‘Yes.” Even through his inner barriers, beyond the binding’s dissonance Marten’s
ikilhia
burned bright as a watchfire. Even Dev’s
ikilhia
, the barest of flickers in comparison, was detectable if he concentrated.
Marten put on the amulet and chanted something quick and soft.
His
ikilhia
vanished. He remained standing before Kiran, calm and smiling, but no hint of his life tinged the aether, as if he were merely a scry-image. Kiran reached out before he thought, half expecting his hand to pass through Marten.
Marten offered his wrist. His flesh was warm and solid under Kiran’s hand, and beyond…Surprise filled Kiran anew, as he came up against an ever-shifting wall that changed so rapidly and hypnotically he couldn’t identify even a single glimpse of a pattern.
“That’s amazing,” Kiran said, and meant it. The utter absence of Marten’s
ikilhia
from his senses meant the warding was powerful enough to block even the mark-bond, and the constant mutability of the pattern would make it extremely difficult to target a spell to break the warding. Yet, the distant look to Marten’s eyes…
“You’re casting, aren’t you? Constantly, to keep the pattern changing.”
“Yes,” Marten said. “The one downside. For you, one of the Watch would need to remain at your side to cast in your stead. We’d take the duty in shifts. That way, even while you sleep you’ll be fully protected.”
So not only was the amulet far from the long-term answer he’d hoped for, it would keep him wholly dependent on the Alathians. Disappointment flooded Kiran.
“I know it’s not a permanent solution.” Marten removed the amulet and slipped it back into his uniform. “Even so, for a short stay in Ninavel, I believe it would suffice. Especially since I don’t intend to depend solely on the amulet for your protection. If you agree to come, I’ll be happy to explain my plans in more detail.”
“Why are you so hot to bring Kiran with you?” The stiffness of Dev’s posture still spoke of anger, but his lean brown face had turned impassive, his eyes hard with calculation.
“Same reason as the one that convinced the Council to commute his death sentence.” Marten hadn’t taken his gaze from Kiran. “Kiran, if we find the cause of the disruption to our wards is a working done with blood magic, or another type of magic outlawed in Alathia, you could decipher the spell pattern and figure out how to counter or disrupt it much faster than one of our mages. A few weeks, that’s all I ask. When you return, not only would Dev be free, but your efforts would go far toward convincing the Council you can be trusted.”