Thief of Light (60 page)

“You forgot to mention modest,” Gray said dryly, but his lips twitched.

Shad leaned in to nuzzle Cenda’s cheek, and Prue could no longer restrain herself. “But
how
—? I don’t understand.”

Gray shrugged, and his shadow turned to look at him. A second later, Shad shrugged too. It was uncanny. “Shad and I have been together for as long as I can remember. I’ve never known a time without him.”

“You’re a sorcerer of shadows,” said Deiter. “Face it, man. Once and for all.”

Again, that elegant movement of the shoulders. “To me, this is how it’s always been. Nothing unusual, nothing Magickal.” Gray’s smoky gaze shifted to where Shad was stroking Cenda’s cheek with long, dark fingers. “If I were a real sorcerer,” he said with some asperity, “you’d think I’d have better control over my . . . minions. Shad!”

Shad snuggled a grinning Cenda into his shoulder. Behind her back, he raised one finger in an unmistakable gesture.

At Prue’s side, Erik chuckled and the tension in the room relaxed. Then he said, “Shad smells different, sort of cool and dark, not like you at all, Gray.”

Gray and Shad appeared to exchange a glance, but before anyone could speak, Katrin said, “You’re not like the Purists at all, are you?”

Every head turned to stare. A scarlet flush soared up out the neck-line of her gown to stain her cheeks. “S-sorry. I mean . . . I only meant Mam doesn’t bother Gray. Not the way—”

Deiter reached out to clamp a hand on her shoulder. “Shut up, girlie. Let me think.”

Gray arched a dark, flyaway brow, but he said nothing.

At last, Deiter stirred. “Well,” he said, “if I’ve learned one thing in a long and misspent life, it’s that the gods exist. But also—” Obviously relishing the drama of the moment, he took a sip from his tisane cup, only to set it aside with a grimace. “Also that They are fallible. Whatever you call Them—the Lord and the Lady, the Brother and Sister, whether you believe in one or a plethora—They don’t know everything.

“In the Enclaves,” he went on, “the Purists teach that Magick is a gift of the gods. It’s conventional wisdom. True enough, I’m sure, but no one believes They literally hand it over.” Among the whiskers, his lip curled. “Like a prize in some ridiculous contest of virtue. Except . . .” His piercing gaze traveled from Erik to Cenda and back again. “They did with you two.” Planting both hands on the table, he leaned forward. “
Didn’t They?
”

Cenda flushed a fiery red. Erik’s mouth snapped shut. His fingers tightened on Prue’s so hard she winced.

“Look here.” With an impatient grunt, Deiter bent to extract a leather tube from his satchel. “Clear a space, lass,” he said to Katrin, and she hastened to obey. Using an unusual degree of care, the wizard eased out a thick parchment and unrolled it on the table.

Next to Prue, Erik inhaled sharply. On the thick, creamy surface was a Pentacle, magnificently rendered in colored inks and gilt—all except for one side, so lightly drawn as to be barely there. “Gods, it’s beautiful,” she said. “Where did you get it?”

Deiter shot her a narrow glance. “I made it.” A pause. “In a vision. I’ve been having them for about a year now.”

“But what does it
mean
? Why isn’t it complete?”

“Hasty piece, aren’t you?” He beckoned to the fire witch with an ink-stained finger. “Show her, Cenda.”

Slowly, Cenda came forward. With a muttered prayer, she touched her forefinger to the Pentacle. Immediately, it burst into flame, tongues of fire running greedily around the pattern.

“No!” Prue leaped for a dishcloth to smother the flames, but Gray’s arm barred her way.”

The fire subsided with a contented crackle. Sweet Sister, the parchment was untouched, save for one side of the Pentacle, but there . . . Prue resisted the urge to rub her eyes. Tiny salamanders, each one a perfect miniature of the one in the fire witch’s hair, danced back and forth, the essence of fiery joy.

“Now you, Gray,” ordered Deiter.

Gray shot him a glance. “You sure?”

“Bloody well get on with it, man!”

“Fine.” With a shrug, Gray placed a fingertip on the line that wasn’t there.

The diminutive salamanders turned as one and hissed their defiance, but beyond that, nothing happened.

“Right as usual,” said Deiter with satisfaction. “Whatever Magick you have, it comes from within, not from the gods.” Raising pouchy eyes, he smiled thinly. “Moment of truth, Erik.”

Erik’s jaw bunched. Without a word, he strode forward and slammed a big palm down on the parchment. “This what you want, old man?”

But Deiter wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes were fixed on the Pentacle. “Oh yes,” he breathed.

“Fuck!” Erik snatched his hand away, but the parchment was already rippling.

Prue squinted, staring. Was that—? Merciful Sister, it was! Dust motes danced in a gentle turbulence above the five-sided shape. A current of air made its chuckling, merry way around the Pentacle, again and again, faster and faster. It was perfectly visible because it was forming tiny, sparkling clouds that whirled with rainbow iridescence. Surely it was her imagination, but the air in the kitchen vibrated as if everything innocent and sacred had been distilled into pure joy—the gurgle of a baby’s belly laugh, a soaring hymn of adoration, true love’s whispered promise, the liquid trill of a night bird.

A blazing smile lit up Cenda’s face. The tiny salamanders capered about with delight. “That’s it, that’s what I felt. Oh, thank the Lady.” She touched Erik’s arm. “It
is
you.”

Erik stared down at her, his brow knotted. “What the hell are you talking about?” When Prue laid a cautious hand against his back, every muscle was rigid beneath her palm.

“Don’t give me that, Erik. You know. Deep inside, you’ve probably always known. You’re the second Side. Air.” Deiter studied the parchment, brooding. “Cenda’s Fire.” He tugged at his beard. “So where the fuck is Water?”

“Hold on, you’ve lost me.” Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s a
Pentacle
got to do with anything? And in case you hadn’t noticed, it has five sides, not three.”

The old wizard snorted. “Give me credit.” He took a hasty gulp from his wine jug, his wrinkled throat working.

“The elements,” said Prue slowly. “But aren’t there four? Fire, air, water—and earth? And what about the blank Side, the one that’s missing?”

“Only the gods know who or what the fifth Side is.” Deiter’s mouth took on a sour twist. “Of course, They haven’t seen fit to enlighten me, for all that I’m supposed to fight Their damn battles for Them.”

The wine jug rose six inches off the table and dropped abruptly. Deiter’s hand shot out with astonishing speed to break its fall. “Godsdammit, what’s wrong with you?” He skewered Erik with a furious glare.

Erik stared right back, his jaw set. “I don’t have the faintest idea what any of this is about. It’s all fucking riddles.”

Deep offense flitted across the old man’s features. “I told you yesterday.” He folded his arms.

“When?”

“On the way upstairs.”

“I wasn’t listening.”

“Too bad.”

“It’s all right, Purist. I’ll do it.” Cenda stepped forward. “It’s simple enough—on the surface,” she said to Erik. “The gods have sent Deiter a . . . prophecy, I guess you’d call it. Or a warning. In the shape of a Pentacle.” She slipped her hand into Gray’s. “There’s a great evil out there, growing in strength, a spreading darkness.” The salamander in her hair stirred restlessly.

“There is always evil, wrongdoing,” said Erik. “It’s a part of life.”

“True enough.” Deiter shrugged. “But this . . .” Suddenly, he looked not only old, but frail. “It’s the very antithesis of all life, good and bad.” He struggled. “A great . . . emptiness, sucking everything down into the dark.”

Cenda said, “Deiter believes, and I do too, that we are pieces of a great Pattern, a game if you like, played between the gods. The Lady and the Lord at one end of the board, and . . . Their adversaries on the other.” She turned to Prue. “It’s not just the Sides of the Pentacle either. Gray and Shad saved my life.” She lifted their clasped hands to her cheek. “You’ve already played a significant part, Prue.” She grinned. “Thanks to you the Necromancer is gone.”

The old wizard grunted. “That’s too bloody easy.” Every head in the room swung toward him. “I can still feel him, the bastard. Like the smallest fleck of shit on the cheek of the Lady.”

Cenda paled. “Five-it, don’t talk like that. It’s . . . blasphemous.”

“So’s evil,” said Deiter. “And it gets worse.”

“Worse?” demanded Erik. “How can it be worse?”

“Bartelm sent me a note.” Deiter dug in his satchel and produced a crumpled piece of paper. “He was talking to a guard called Rhio something—”

“Rhiomard,” said Erik and Prue together.

“Yes. Ah, here we are.” He squinted at the note. “They never found the body of the Technomage. And in an interesting coincidence, there was break-in at the Queen’s Library night before last. The office of the Knowledge was ransacked. Including a false drawer hidden in a filing cupboard. Rhiomard interviewed all the staff. None of them knew the drawer was there, or so they claim.”

In the appalled silence, the slosh of wine in Deiter’s jug seemed very loud. Something scuffled beneath the window.

As silent as his own shadow, Gray took a few quick strides, leaned over and pounced.

“Fook! Lemme go!”

Florien wriggled and swore as Gray hauled him over the sill. Then he kicked, catching the man on the shins. “Shit!” Gray dropped him.

“Weren’t doin’ nuthin’.” The boy glared at Gray as he edged closer to Cenda.

“Don’t come to me for sympathy,” she said, looking more imposing than Prue had thought possible. Flames flickered from her fingertips. “I’ve told you repeatedly not to eavesdrop. How much did you hear?”

“Nuthin’.”

“
Florien
,” said Cenda warningly.

The boy’s lower lip jutted. “Everythin’.”

Deiter’s gnarled fingers closed hard on a bony shoulder. “More to the point, how much did you understand?”

The dark eyes flashed. “Ain’t stoopid.”

Deiter raised his hands, sketching a complicated shape in the air, murmuring under his breath.

Erik reached out, grabbed the boy and thrust the small body behind his. “Hell, no!”

“He’s a risk we can’t afford.”

Prue stepped in front of both of them. Finding her voice, she snapped, “Killing a child does the Necromancer’s work. You want that?”

Slowly, Deiter lowered his hands. He cleared his throat. “Was only going to shut him up.”

With an irritated grunt, Erik picked Prue up and set her aside. Florien peered around his hip, the whites of his eyes showing. “Won’ say nuthin’. I swear.”

“You most certainly won’t.” Erik squatted to hold the boy’s gaze. “Because you’re going to make a solemn promise and shake the hand of every person in this room.” He held out his left hand. “Agreed?”

“Yah.” Slowly, Florien placed his small hand in Erik’s big one. His shoulders stiffened. “I kin do thet.”

Bemused, Prue watched him move composedly from one adult to the next, his head held high. He had his own funny little dignity—and amazing courage. Sister, he was going to be an extraordinary man. A reluctant smile curved her lips as she gravely shook a small paw. If he lived that long.

Florien’s skinny frame trembled as he approached the old wizard, but he managed the handshake creditably enough, skittering immediately to Cenda’s side. He barely flinched when she bent to drop a peck on his cheek, screwing up his face in a way Prue found dangerously endearing.

She wondered if the lad had a part to play, because it seemed as if she did, and Gray. Oh, and Shad. Fire and Air, with Water and Earth still unknown. Her thoughts hitched. That was odd. “Purist?”

Deiter grunted.

“You didn’t mention Earth.”

“No,” said Erik. “That’s right, you didn’t. Well?” He arched a brow.

Deiter flapped a hand. “Oh, I know where to find Earth.”

An instant’s silence, and everyone spoke together, Erik’s practiced bellow rising above the hubbub. “
Who? Where?
”

The old wizard pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not for me to say. He’s proving . . . recalcitrant.” He pulled out a chair and flopped into it without grace.

“
Recalcitrant?
But we need him!” Cenda’s voice rose to a near shriek. Florien jumped back as the salamander tripled in size, skittered to her shoulder and reared back on its haunches, spitting. “Have you told him what’s at stake?”

“Leave Earth to me, girlie. There’s no such thing as coincidence, not in the Pattern of the gods. Water’s close. You concentrate on finding him—or her.” He cast her a stern look from under shaggy brows. “And on doing better Magick. You have to be fast and deadly, and you’re nothing near it.” He turned. “You too, Erik.”