Meralda began to measure the passage of her days by the arrival and departure of Donchen and his silver serving cart.
The mysteries of the cursework tethers fell away, inch by inch. By midnight of the second day of her self-imposed exile inside the laboratory, Meralda began to understand how the tether spells were integrated into the much larger array of the Tower’s structural spells.
By two in the morning, Meralda found a way to use the twelve original latching points to tether new spells.
By four, she could see a way to overlay new spells onto the old, and activate them when Otrinvion’s tethers began to fail in earnest.
Mug slept. The spark lamps in the laboratory were too dim to keep him alert. Meralda poured the dregs of her last cup of coffee into Mug’s pot, smiled when he muttered something about beetles, and then fell asleep herself with her head down on her desk.
Donchen knocked softly at the laboratory doors. A moment later, he opened them and looked inside.
Meralda did not awaken. Donchen and Tervis crept past the door, Donchen as silent as snow, Tervis rattling and scraping with every step. Still, they managed to reach Meralda’s desk without disturbing her slumber.
“Should we wake her?” whispered Tervis.
Donchen shook his head. “I think not.”
Tervis wriggled out of his red guardsman’s coat and draped it gently over Meralda. She shifted, but did not wake.
Donchen motioned toward the door. Tervis followed, attempting without success to tip-toe in his steel toed boots.
Outside, Donchen pushed the doors closed, and then put his back to them.
“I’ll be glad to stay, if one of you gentlemen would care to nap,” he said. “Tomorrow is likely to be another very long day.”
The Bellringers exchanged glances.
“Pardon, sir, but we’ll remain at our posts,” said Kervis.
Donchen smiled and shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll stay too. Have I ever told you gentlemen the story of Murdering Hosang and the Five Wandering Grooms?”
The Bellringers shook their heads.
Donchen took in a deep breath, and began to speak.
“Good morning, Thaumaturge!”
Meralda regarded the captain with bleary, half-open eyes.
“You needn’t be so cheerful about it, you know.”
The captain grinned. “Sorry. Here’s coffee. And a biscuit with ham. I know it’s not quite so fancy as you’re used to, these days, but I left my silver serving cart in my other pants.”
Meralda groaned and rubbed her eyes. The captain chuckled.
“Forgive me, Meralda. It is a bit early for humor, now that you mention it. Nearly ten of the clock.”
Meralda’s eyes flew open, and she shot to her feet. “Ten? Ten in the morning? Mug! Why didn’t you wake me?”
Mug kept all of his eyes aimed at the ceiling. “Oh my, deary me, how did I forget? Observe how contrite I am. Some days I have the brains of a cucumber, isn’t that right?”
Meralda glared. The captain put the biscuit in her hand. “The houseplant did you a boon, Mage. You’ve been running yourself ragged, these last few days. We need you alert. Especially now.”
Meralda paused, hot biscuit halfway to her lips. “Now? Why now?”
The captain grinned. “There’s been quite a lot of trouble, Mage. Started small, a couple of days ago. I didn’t bother you with talk of it. But last night-my, oh, my-last night was quite a busy one, for our friends the Vonats. Eat. I’ll talk. You look half-starved.”
Meralda bit and swallowed.
The captain pulled back the rickety old chair Fromarch favored on his visits and sat. “Looks like we’ve got a war of wizards on our hands, Meralda. Spells flying all over the place. Bangs and thumps and lights at all hours, that’s how it started. Vonats complaining that their quarters were either haunted or cursed. Yvin even moved the lot of them, twice. Didn’t make much of a difference.”
Meralda nodded and fought to keep her face blank. Fromarch and Shingvere, she thought. Armed with heaven knows what.
“Saw some of it myself. Two wagonloads of Vonat laundry marched right out of the palace, they did. Marched all the way across town, all the way up the park wall, all the way around it.” The captain slapped his knee. “You should see the dancing gargoyles, Mage. All dressed up in Vonat underclothes. They claim the Vonats nearly declared war, right here in the palace.”
Meralda nearly choked on her biscuit.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you now, Mage?”
Meralda shook her head. “I haven’t left this room for two days, Captain. I certainly haven’t had time to animate anyone’s unmentionables.”
“It’s been three days, Mage, and it’s a good thing, too. The Vonats can’t accuse you of making off with their socks when everyone in Tirlin knows you’re holed up in here trying to move the Tower’s shadow.” The captain’s grin didn’t falter. “That is what you’re doing, isn’t it, Mage Ovis?”
Her mouth full, Meralda just nodded. The captain snorted.
“Well, Meralda, I hope you know you can call on me anytime, for anything. I don’t have to know why, and I won’t ask any questions. You do know that, don’t you?”
“I know. And I thank you.”
The captain shrugged. “Well, I’ve said my piece. I’d better be off now, in case that pair of daft old codgers manages to start a war right here in our kitchens.” He rose, reached into his jacket, and withdrew a short, black bladed dagger in a black felt sheath.
“I didn’t forget, by the way. Had this special made for you. Double edged. I had old man Kinnon put the edge on it. It’ll cut daylight. Blade is black so it won’t shine in the dark. Hilt is soft leather for a good grip. The felt will keep it from nicking your ankle. Will it do?”
Meralda took the dagger. It was heavy in her hand, and cold.
“Perfectly,” she said.
“I hope you never do more than put it away in a drawer when all this is over with,” said the captain. “But if you use it, strike underhanded, with the blade level. It’s good sharp steel. Go right through leather.” His face darkened. “I’ve got a granddaughter your age. You be careful, you hear? Don’t go breaking any old men’s hearts.”
Meralda put the dagger on her desk and caught the captain up in a sudden fierce hug.
“Just a few more days, Captain. A few more days, and we can all go back to pilfering the royal kitchens and idling on the royal stairs.”
The captain didn’t reply. He patted Meralda awkwardly on her back, and when Meralda released him he turned and stomped out the doors.
“Sounds like the daft codgers have been busy,” said Mug, once the doors were firmly shut. “The bit about the marching clothes? Shingvere’s, or I’m a petunia.”
Meralda made for the laboratory’s tiny water closet. Mug watched her go, then turned his eyes to the notes she’d left the night before.
His eyes all went wide at once.
“Tower,” he said, in a whisper. “Does this mean she’s found a way to save Tirlin?”
“It is possible,” said the Tower, matching Mug’s whisper. “Your mage is possessed of a formidable intellect.”
Mug’s eyes hovered over the page, darting back and forth across it in a wild tangle of motion.
“You’re an ancient construct possessed of a formidable intellect yourself,” said Mug. “Do you think this will actually work?”
The Tower was silent for a moment.
“It seems plausible. If a number of assumptions and estimates are correct.”
Mug emulated a sigh as the sound of running water issued from the back of the lab.
“Don’t overwhelm me with your confidence.”
“We have no time to pursue further research,” it said. “This is Tirlin’s only hope.”
Mug tossed his leaves. “Sunlight,” he said, to the glass.
Warm, bright morning sun flooded the desk, bathing Mug’s leaves in light and warmth.
“Well.” Mug spread his leaves and closed his eyes. “I suppose it will have to do.”
Meralda emerged from the water closet at the same time the Bellringers knocked at the door and announced coffee and pancakes.
“No sign of Mr. Donchen this morning, ma’am,” said Tervis. “Shame, too. I was looking forward to some more of those Hang vittles.”
Meralda beckoned the Bellringers inside with a frown.
“Did either of you sleep last night?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No, ma’am.”
Meralda sighed. Kervis kicked his brother in the shin, causing Tervis to yelp and amend his reply.
“Mr. Donchen stayed with us until a couple of hours ago,” said Kervis. “Said he had some bird watching to do.” Kervis frowned. “I told him most Tirlish birds don’t fly till after sunup, but he left anyway.”
Bird watching, mused Meralda, as she cleared a place on her desk for her breakfast. What are you up to, Donchen?
“Thank you for breakfast,” said Meralda. “Now then. I’m heading for the Tower at three bells. Both of you will now go get a few hours sleep.” She raised her hands at their protests. “Have the captain send up a pair of guards. That’s an order. I’ll lock the doors and set the wards. A dozen Vonats couldn’t get past both. Go.” She stabbed a bite of pancakes with her fork. “I’d better not see either of you until three of the clock.”
“Are you sure, Thaumaturge?”
Meralda glared. Kervis caught his brother’s elbow and led him out.
“Back to the Tower, is it?” said Mug.
“I’ve got enough of the shadow moving spellwork finished to latch it. It’ll give me an excuse to have a look at the Vonat spell, too.”
“It’ll also expose you to anyone out there with mischief on their mind,” said Mug.
Meralda swallowed and shrugged. I won’t even mention that I’m going home to change and have a proper bath, she thought. Mug would lose leaves.
“It has to be done.”
“So you’re nearly done with the shadow spell?”
“I’m taking quite a few shortcuts,” said Meralda. “I’ve halved the number of refractors. It won’t be as bright as day, but the king won’t be in deep shadow, either.”
“Ooo, Yvin will have a fit.”
“If he wishes.” Meralda put down her fork and found her coffee. “He can always ask for my robe back. Another night in this chair and I may give it to him anyway.”
“Now you sound like Fromarch.”
“Hush, Mug.”
“Now you really sound like Fromarch.”
Meralda shrugged and sipped coffee until her mind was clear again.
“You put a ribbon in your hair,” said Mug.
Meralda regarded the park from atop the nearly completed spectator’s bleachers which now lay full in the Tower’s long shadow.
The park was full. Two dozen dirt smeared Alons charged and bellowed and ran, and a crowd of several hundred spectators gathered about them, all hooting or jeering or shoving each other for a better look at the running mob of Alons. Food sellers wandered, hawking their wares in strident tones. Minstrels played and sang, often so close to one another their songs were little more than shouting matches.
“It’s a red ribbon,” added Mug. “In case anyone asks.”
“I know perfectly well what color it is. I did, after all, put it there. It’s just a ribbon. I often wear hair ribbons.”
“Seen Donchen yet?”
“I have no idea where he might be.”
“Well, keep looking, he’s bound to turn up.”
“I’m not looking!”
“No, of course not, you were just pointing your eyes toward the crowd, my mistake.”
Kervis came charging up the wooden stair. “Ma’am,” he began, breathless. “I told-the foreman-he’ll blow a whistle-when everyone is clear.”
Meralda smiled. “Thank you, Kervis. Please make sure no one ascends the stair after the whistle is blown.”
Kervis nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I didn’t see Mr. Donchen, by the way.”
Mug snickered.
Meralda turned, and Kervis stamped away down the stairs.
“Mistress,” said Mug, all humor gone. “Look west. By the ice cream vendor. Tall man in a black hood.”
Meralda didn’t look. “Is it him?”
Mug’s eyes swiveled and bunched.
“Yes. Just standing there. Arms folded. Can’t see either of his hands.”
“He wouldn’t dare attack me openly here.”
“No, that would be rash.” Mug shook his leaves. “Sorry. No, I don’t think so either. But let’s get this done, mistress. I’d feel safer with a few feet of solid stone between me and Ugly, if you don’t mind.”
Meralda reached into her right pocket and withdrew the Hang magic detector. She opened it, and watched as the needle swung around to point south, toward the Hang ships still moored at the harbor.
She laid the device down. The needle never moved, and the rings never spun.
“Keep one eye on that, if you please.”
Mug aimed a bright blue eye at the dial.
From the base of the Tower, a whistle blew. Meralda could see a ring of curious workmen gather in the shade, mopping their brows and watching her. One waved.
“It’s time,” said Meralda. She found her long copper latch, broke the silver thread she’d strung through its open ends earlier, and spoke a long, soft word.
“Sight,” she whispered.
The Tower flared to life, now glowing with a flickering corona that clung to it like sheets of pale, bluish flames.
The copper tube grew warm in her hands. Meralda spoke the word that released the new latch, and the tube leaped in her hands as the first part of the shadow spell flew toward the Tower.
Even with her Sight, even knowing where to look and what to look for, Meralda couldn’t see any hint of the Tower’s subtle actions as it accepted the new spell and gently latched it in place.
If Humindorus Nam is watching, thought Meralda, let him spend the rest of his life wondering just how I managed to latch that.
The copper tube in her hand grew cool. The ends began to rime, and Meralda laid it down next to her notes.
“Ugly is leaving,” said Mug. “He try anything, mistress?”
“Not that I could tell.” Satisfied that the latch was firmly in place, Meralda let her sight fall. “Still, he walked all the way out here for some reason.”
“Probably just curious about the Tower,” said Mug. “I’d bet a pound of good mulch Shingvere and Fromarch aren’t far. Might have ruined his plans, if he had any.”
“Possibly.” Meralda began packing her bag with her various implements and her wind whipped notebook.
“Back to the flat?” asked Mug. His voice fell to a whisper. “Won’t you at least take the captain and a dozen guards, this time?”
Meralda shook her head. “Why? Tower means me no harm. There’s no ghost.”
“It’s not Tower I’m worried about. What if Ugly sneaks in, somehow? What if that’s his plan, to catch you on the stair alone?”
Meralda hefted her bag. “I won’t be alone.”
“Mistress, the lads mean well, and I’m sure they’d be handy in a fight against irate middle-schoolers, but this could turn deadly.”
“And if I summon the captain and a platoon of pikemen, what does that say about the Mage of Tirlin, Mug?”
“It says she’s surrounded by large men with sharp pointy things.”
“It tells the world I’m afraid. It tells the world I can’t go about without relying on soldiers. No, Mug. I’ll take the Bellringers, but no more.”
Mug flung his vines. “Can you at least tell if you-know-who and you-know-what are nearby?”
Meralda shrugged. “I have no idea. And I can’t wait until I do. Please, Mug, don’t worry.” Meralda grinned and patted her bag. “I’ve taken extra precautions.”
Mug grunted. “Well. I’ll just stay here and keep watch.”
Meralda patted his topmost leaves. “Thank you, Mug. I’ll be back soon. You’ll see.”
Meralda turned and mounted the stairs. The Bellringers looked up, squinting into the sun.
“To the Tower, ma’am?”
“To the Tower. Please make sure someone watches the stairs. I don’t want Mug disturbed.”
Kervis darted off, grabbing a pair of idling palace guards by their bright red shirts and ushering them toward the stairs.
Meralda waited until the bewildered guards were in place, and then she led the Bellringers on the short walk to the Tower.
The Tower was as dark as ever, as silent as ever, and as empty as ever.
Meralda felt none of the dread she’d come to associate with her previous trips up the winding stair, though. Yes, I know I am being watched. Yes, I know the shadows hide an ancient and powerful being.
But Tower now has a name, of sorts, and I can’t feel threatened by him, even if he is the handiwork of Otrinvion the Black, himself.
Meralda smiled up at Kervis, whose wide-eyed gaze and sweaty face belied anything but calm. Tervis, too, was pale and wary, his hand continually darting to touch the hilt of his sword.
Meralda watched the shadows at the edge of her magelamp for any tell-tale sign of Nameless or Faceless. She listened between the scrape of boots on stone for any hint of wings. But she saw only darkness, and heard only echoes and silence.
Perhaps the staves are being discreet because of the Bellringers, she thought.
Or perhaps they simply aren’t here at all.
The stair wound up and up and up, vanishing in the dark above and swallowed by the dark below. Meralda counted steps until she reached nine hundred and forty, and then she called the Bellringers to rest.
Both put their backs to the wall and eyed the shadows warily. Meralda fumbled with her bag and then withdrew a glass sphere held at the end of a long brass funnel by a net of faintly luminous gold wires.
She handed the magelamp to Tervis. “Hold this please,” she said. “This will only take a moment.”
Tervis played the light over Meralda and nodded wordlessly.
Meralda turned away from the Bellringers and forced herself to stare out into the chasm just beyond the tips of her boots.
The Vonat spell should have latched here, she thought. It should still be here, even though Tower has pulled its teeth.
Time to see just what Humindorus Nam had planned for the Accords.
“Sight,” said Meralda, closing her eyes. The emptiness before her seemed to pull at her, urging her closer to the edge, urging her to bend, to lean, to take that one simple step…
Meralda held the glass sphere aloft, and spoke another long word.
The Tower was flooded with a brief, sudden light.
In that light, Meralda’s Sight showed her a tangle of dark, harsh magic. Great parts of it still lay coiled, still under a strange tension, still ready to snap and lunge and strike, if only the right word was spoken aloud.
Meralda traced the comings and goings of the glowing structure before her. Yes, she thought, I can see how Tower moved this, shifted that, forced this other to bend and come loose. But what of that helical component? Why does the whole thing wrap not just around itself, but inside itself, twice over?
“Mage?” asked Kervis, his words faint and hollow, as though spoken through a thick fog or a fresh snow.
Meralda raised her free hand for silence, and pushed her Sight deeper inside the Vonat spellwork.
But it isn’t all Vonat, is it, she thought. Certainly, some of it. But half is something new.
Something foreign.
Meralda didn’t dare close her Sight long enough to consult Donchen’s magical pointer, but she knew the needle would still point to the ships.
Still, this is Hang. But what does it do?
Meralda urged the sphere to reveal more. The glass began to sag, and a drop of it fell to the stair, smoking and hissing.
Meralda pushed deeper. The formations inside the spellwork danced and spun, rolling and straightening, flashing suddenly from the Tower’s floor to the flat, like cold, bright lightning.
Lightning.
“Oh, my.”
“Ma’am?”
“Nothing.”
Lightning. Plain and simple. The word is spoken. The structure unfolds. The coils are released.
And then a ring of deadly, concentrated lightning springs from the Tower and falls into the park. Bolt after bolt, until the latch fails.
The hand holding the melting glass began to shake. How many would die? Dozens? Hundreds?
And I’d be blamed, she realized. He’d wait until I invoked the shadow moving spell. Make it appear as if a clumsy Tirlish mage-a woman, at that-accidentally called down death on the royal houses of all the Five Realms, and the Hang.
Wrecking the Accords. Sending the Hang home, perhaps forever. Leaving the realms distrustful and perhaps even vengeful against a devastated, kingless Tirlin.
All of that laid at my doorstep.
Meralda felt her teeth grinding, and forced her jaw to relax. It’s not going to happen, she said to herself. The spell has been disabled. Oh, it looks formidable enough. But when the word is spoken, if it is spoken, the whole wretched mess will simply spin and thrash and fall apart.
Meralda took a deep breath, and dropped her Sight.
The glass globe sputtered and dripped. The heat of it warmed her hand, even from the end of the handle.
Kervis and Tervis regarded her with something like terror.
“Ma’am,” said Kervis. “Is everything…all right?”
“It is now. Forgive me, gentlemen. I assure you, all is well.”
The Bellringers nodded, their eyes still wide.
Meralda spoke another word. The globe ceased its glowing, and began to pop and crack as it suddenly cooled.
Meralda propped it carefully against the wall. The glass was so soft it flattened and deformed against the stone.
“I’ll just leave this here and pick it up on the way down. Remember where it is, and don’t trip over it later.”
The Bellringers chorused agreement. Meralda hefted her bag, and resumed her careful march back toward the flat, scowling at the dark all the way.
Sunlight spilled into the flat. Meralda and the Bellringers put their backs to the walls and sat, catching their breath.
“I’m not going to miss doing this one bit,” said Tervis, after a time.
“Oh, I don’t know, it’s fun after the first few thousand steps,” added Kervis with a sweaty grin.
Meralda laughed and rose. One last thing to do, she thought. And the shadow spell will be in place at last.
I just hope there’s still a Tirlin in which to use it.
Meralda fumbled in her bag, found the pair of holdstones and the intricate device of brass and silver that would shape the refractors upon their release. She put the device in the center of the floor, spoke half the word that bound it to the latch, and watched as the cogged gears located at each of the compass points rotated precisely half a revolution each.
Then she let out her breath in a sigh.
“That’s that,” she said. “Hurrah. Another victory for applied magic.”
The Bellringers stood.
“We knew you could do it,” said Kervis, blushing. “You’re the smartest person we’ve ever met, and that’s a fact.”
Meralda found a weary smile. “And you are the bravest. Thank you. Let’s get back to the park, shall we? I could use something to eat.”
“Me, too,” said Tervis. “We should have brought some apples.”
“I’d rather eat with my feet on the ground,” said Kervis, opening the door to the flat. “Ready, Mage?”
“Ready.” Meralda pushed back her hair and brushed her magelamp to life. “Mind your step.”
Kervis grinned and stepped out of the light. Meralda followed, and Tervis locked the door behind.
A dozen steps down the stair, Meralda saw something black flit and dart just beyond the reach of her magelamp’s white glow.
A dozen steps later, she was sure she heard, fainter than a cricket’s footfall, the sound of crow’s wings beating.
Neither Kervis nor Tervis gave any sign of seeing shadows or hearing fluttering in the dark.
Meralda kept one hand in her bag and hurried down as fast as she dared.
“I do love the feel of the sun on my face,” said Kervis, as he stepped out into the light.
Meralda nodded, too out of breath to comment. Tervis brought up the rear, armor clinking and clanking as he hurried to catch up.
Meralda could see Mug waving his fronds from high atop the stands. She waved back. If Mug was shouting the din in the park made it impossible to hear.
Meralda searched the crowd ahead for any sign of Humindorus Nam, but saw only idling Tirlish and grinning, bruised Alons and a group of assorted carpenters all hurrying about their tasks. Hammers rose and fell. Saws cut and glinted in the sun.
Fromarch peeked from behind a stack of lumber, flashed Meralda a rare wide grin, and vanished.
Meralda let out her breath all at once. “Let’s fetch Mug and be off,” she said. The Bellringers hurried to her side. “I’ll get us some lunch on the way to the palace.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” said Kervis, who hurried for the stands. “I’ll fetch Mr. Mug. Won’t be a moment!”
“Don’t forget his sheet,” called Meralda.
“I’m sure Mr. Mug will remind him, ma’am,” said Tervis. He peered out at Meralda from behind his too-large helm. “Ma’am, it’s none of my concern, but you looked to be a mite angry back there. Did we say something wrong? Kervis didn’t mean anything about that Alon football he likes to watch.”
“No, nothing of the sort,” said Meralda, quickly. “I saw some…difficulties with the spell. That’s all. Extra work. I’m just grumpy these days.”
Tervis smiled. “Well, as long as it weren’t nothing we did.”
Kervis came charging back, a swaying, sheet-covered birdcage muttering in his hand.
“I’m going to be thoroughly sick,” said Mug, from within.
“Oh, let me have him,” said Meralda. Kervis handed the cage to her. “Here, we’ll be sitting still very soon.”
“Not soon enough. Oh. Donchen stopped by, mistress. Said to tell you something. Please slow down! I’m not a swinging vine, you know.”
Meralda glared, but slowed her walk.
“Yes? What was it?”
“His message?”
“Yes, his bloody message!”
“He said your bag is very heavy, and any carpenter in Tirlin would be proud to carry it for you some day. Are we walking up and down hills, mistress? Because it feels that way.”
Meralda frowned. “My bag isn’t that heavy…”
Meralda paused to let a trio of carpenters pass. One smiled at her and winked, and for an instant his face was Donchen’s.
“Actually, I could use some help,” she said aloud.
“I’d be honored,” said the man. His face was now Tirlish, his clothes stained and sweaty, his brown hair filled with sawdust. “Where are you heading, milady?”
“Just down the walk,” said Meralda. “Thank you for helping.”
Donchen hefted the bag across his shoulder. “Think nothing of it,” he said. His fingers flew in a series of small gestures. “We can speak, for a bit. You were followed here, Mage. I believe he meant you harm.”
Meralda smiled, as though discussing the sunshine. “What stopped him, then?”
“Three very determined wizards with a bagful of horrors. Your friends have been quite effective, Mage. The Vonats are beginning to distrust their co-conspirators. And each other. Remind me to avoid playing your card games with any of them.”
Meralda nodded. “And you? What have you been up to, sir?”
“Oh, idling in beer halls, gambling at dice, napping.”
“I doubt that.”
Donchen grinned. “We’re nearly there. You’re bound for your laboratory?”
“Yes. More work to do.”
“I’ll bring supper. Until then, be wary. I fear Nam’s mischief was merely delayed.”
“I have a bit of horror in my bag as well,” said Meralda. “But I thank you for your concern.”
Donchen smiled and nodded. “I’ll be close all the way to the palace,” he said. The Wizard’s Walk ended, leaving Meralda and Donchen to weave their way through the crowd to the curb, where Angis waited atop his buggy.
“Mug was right,” said Donchen, as he handed the sheet-covered bird cage to Meralda. “It is a nice red ribbon.”
And then he was gone, lost in the noisy crowd.
Mug feigned snores until the park was well behind them.
Tervis dozed in his seat. Angis and Kervis sang atop the cab, laughing at each other’s missed notes. Meralda pulled the ribbon from her hair and shoved it down in her bag and fumed as the carriage made its way slowly toward the palace.
Mug remained silent, though Meralda did catch a glimpse of a small brown eye peeking up at her from beneath the bed sheet’s edge.
The carriage rolled to a halt. Meralda leaned out of her window and saw that traffic up and down the street was at a standstill. In the distance, she heard whistles blow.
“Looks like a pair of fools have gotten their harnesses tangled up ahead, ma’am,” shouted Angis. “We might be here for a bit.”
Tervis stirred, rubbed his eyes, and reached suddenly for his sword.
Meralda’s door was flung open. Sunlight rushed in.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Tervis shouted. Whether a warning or his brother’s name or hers, Meralda couldn’t say.
Someone tossed a bundle of dirty rope through the open door. Meralda kicked at it, slid away from it, and tried to open the cab’s other door.
The handle wouldn’t budge. As Meralda struggled to open it, something struck the door hard from the outside. A length of thick dirty rope fell through the open cab window and looped itself over Meralda’s right shoulder.
The rope stank of oil and soot. A remote, perfectly calm corner of Meralda’s mind noted that the oil must have come from the dirigible docks, and that the stains would never come out of her blouse.
Tervis grabbed the rope with one hand and tried to draw his sword with the other. The cab was too confined to let his blade clear the scabbard. Tervis twisted and pulled, but before he could draw he was yanked whole by his ankles from the cab and dragged out the open door.
More stinking rope fell through the cab window. Meralda tried to slide away, but the ropes moved about her, pinning her right arm, wrapping themselves tight about her ankles, coiling and climbing up both her legs.
Mug screamed. A loop of rope coiled and struck like a serpent, smashing Mug’s cage nearly flat.
The ropes holding Meralda flexed and stood, knotting themselves suddenly into a crude simulacrum of a person, with loops of rope for arms, for legs, for trunk, for head.
Meralda managed to get her left hand in her bag before a turn of rope closed about that wrist, too.
Outside the carriage, Tervis screamed and Kervis swore and Angis flailed away at something with his stick. Meralda could see blades rising, men running, and impossible lengths of rope standing and moving and fighting.
Her hand closed about a warm, smooth metal cube as the rope man before her leaned down and slid his open noose of a face over Meralda’s head.
As the rope around her neck began to tighten, Meralda pulled the metal box from her bag and spat out the short harsh word that loosed the spell inside.
There was a flash, the smell of fresh air after a summer thunderstorm, a crack of infant thunder.
The rope man gripping Meralda sagged and dropped to the cab’s floor. The ropes about her arms and legs fell away.
She pulled the rope around her neck over her head, flung it down, and leaped from the cab, Mug’s crumpled, sheet covered birdcage in her hand.
Kervis and Tervis rose from the cobblestones, each covered in tangled ropes, each red-faced and winded. Angis leaped down from his cab, his nose bloody and his eyes wild.
Mug moaned softly beneath his bed sheet. Meralda grabbed Tervis and dragged him toward the sidewalk, where a frightened crowd gathered.
“Move away!” shouted Meralda. “They’ll be getting back up any moment now. Move! Run!” She lifted the icy cold cube and held it high. “Magic! Run!”
The crowd scattered. Meralda dragged Tervis as far as she could, then waved to Angis and Kervis to follow.
“Go!” she shouted. “Indoors! Hurry!”
Angis mopped blood with a handkerchief and spat. “Not without you, Mage.” He’d lost his stick, but he bent and pulled a short plain knife from his right boot. “I’m too old to run, anyway.”
“Ma’am, they’re moving,” said Kervis, lifting his sword. “What do we do?”
Run like I told you, thought Meralda.
But they won’t. They’ll stand here and try to fight a hundred feet of mooring ropes with swords and kitchen knives.
She put Mug’s cage behind her, searched Milhop’s Irresistible Void for any hint of remaining capacity, and then let it fall to the street.
Filled. Impossibly so, but filled nonetheless. Useless.
The ropes stirred, coiling and shifting, animated again by some dark, foreign spell.
Whistles blew, down the way, and horns answered. The guard will be here in moments, Meralda thought.
A rope man rose. And another.
But the guard will be too late.
Tervis and Kervis moved to stand on either side of Meralda, blades level and ready, faces frozen in identical masks of grim determination. Angis cussed and bled and spat, shifting from boot to boot as if deciding on a dance.
The rope men stood. There were five, then six, then seven.
“It’s you they want, Mage,” said Angis. “Take to your heels. We’ll hold them here.”
Meralda dropped her bag. She held her arms out beside her, hands open and empty, and as the rope men advanced she called upon her Sight.
Instantly, a pair of flitting shadows descended, darting and swooping, just out of her reach.
“What oath would you speak to us, imperiled mage?”
“No oaths,” said Meralda, aloud. The steady scratch-slide of ropes dragged across cobblestones grew louder. “No vows. You help me, or you don’t. The choice is yours.”
“No oath?” said one.
“No vow?” said another.
“Many would pledge their lives.”
“Many would offer their souls.”
Kervis took a step forward. Tervis did the same.
“One cannot deny she is brave.”
“One cannot deny she is wise.”
“I do not love these things of rope.”
“Nor I. Are we agreed?”
Meralda’s hands closed about two plain ironwood staves.
“Behold, Mage,” said one. “This is how.”
Meralda’s mind filled with wonders.
As one, the rope men charged, arms flailing like whips, legs looping up and out, ready to catch, ready to coil, ready to wrap and knot and choke.
Meralda’s Sight expanded, clarified, became an all-encompassing panorama that showed not just the ropes that bore down on her, but the spells that gave them shape and lent them motion.
Meralda laughed. Pure, wild, unfettered magic blazed suddenly through her veins, her heart, her mind. She marveled at the simplicity of it, at the ease with which she could form it, shape it, bend it to her will.
No equations. No diagrams. No symbols.
Just magic. Just will.
Just…this.
Meralda lifted Nameless and Faceless, crossing them above her head. Without even a word she loosed a wave of raw power that lifted the rope men like so many dry leaves, spinning them into a flailing tangle before incinerating rope and spells alike into a short-lived puff of golden incandescent air.
Every window for two blocks shattered. Horses bolted, dragging cabs and carriages up onto the sidewalks and sending them careening into storefronts and lamp posts. Two water mains burst, flooding streets and sending panicked crowds fleeing.
“Now the true test,” said one.
“Let us see,” said the other.
Meralda’s Sight raced. Everywhere, wonders lay hidden, coiled in impossibly small spaces she had never dreamed existed. Magic infused every stone, every brick, every breath of air, always in easy reach for anyone who dared seize it.
So easy, thought Meralda. So easy…
She heard voices. Distant, yes, and faint, but familiar, somehow. Friends, perhaps.
Voices full of concern.
Still, such power, so close, so simple to take.
“Ma’am, he’s hurt! Please! We need you right now!”
Someone tugged at Meralda’s sleeve.
Kervis. Kervis was speaking.
“Mr. Mug! Say something! Mr. Mug!”
Mug.
Meralda let go of the staves. They leaped into the sky, vanishing instantly, something very like approval hanging briefly in their wake.
Meralda’s head spun. She forced her Sight away, fell to her knees, blinked and squinted until she saw nothing but dirty cobblestones and the wild fearful eyes of Kervis and Tervis.
Kervis held Mug’s cage. He was carefully prying away the tangled bed sheet. Meralda gasped, her stomach knotting when she saw Mug’s bird cage was crushed nearly flat in the center.
Angis caught her by her shoulder, keeping her from toppling over.
“I think you got rid of the buggers, Mage,” he said. “You tend to your friend. I’ll watch your back.”
Tears welled up in Meralda’s eyes and she saw Mug’s motionless leaves caught in the bent bars of the bird cage.
One of his eyes stuck through the bars. It was crushed, and leaking sap.
“Oh Mug,” she said. “No, no, no.”
Kervis bent down, his dagger in his hand.
“I can pry the cage apart, ma’am,” he said. “Then we can get him out of there. Will you let me do that?”
Meralda managed to nod. She laid her hand on Mug’s crushed leaves, but he did not stir.
“Mug.”
Kervis gently pushed her hand aside, put the tip of his knife through the crushed cage’s frame, and then slowly pried up.
“Hold the other side,” he said, to Tervis.
The cage slowly expanded. After moving the knife, Kervis was able to pull it out far enough to remove the cage’s bottom, and free the motionless dandyleaf plant.
“Water!” bellowed Angis, at the circle of confused faces Meralda could just barely see through her tears. “A pitcher of water, man! Crown’s business!”
In a moment, a pitcher of water was thrust in Meralda’s hand.
She poured it onto the clump of dirt that had survived the blow. Mug’s roots trailed from it, limp and still.
Angis gripped her shoulder.
“A wee bit more, lass.”
Crying, Meralda emptied the pitcher.
Mug’s stalk twitched. His roots underwent a spasm, and then clutched hard at the clump of soil.
A single green eye opened, swiveled up to hang close to Meralda’s nose, and blinked.
“Please tell me you did bad things to whatever hit me,” he said, in a tiny, weak voice.
Meralda cried, unable to speak. She stroked Mug’s wilted leaves and nodded.
“I’ll need a new pot,” said Mug. His open eye began to wobble. “And some of that fancy Eryan peat.”
Booted feet charged up, and shouts to make way sounded.
“The guard is here,” said Kervis. “Keep an eye on them, little brother.” He sheathed his sword and turned to meet them.
“I’ll be going to bed now,” muttered Mug. “Don’t mind the dishes.”
Then his eye closed, slumped, and fell.
Meralda hugged him to her chest, wet roots and all.
“We’re here,” said Kervis, gently. “May I take him? The wards…”
Meralda managed a nod, and carefully handed a wilted, drooped Mug over to Kervis.
Forty special palace guards surrounded Meralda and the Bellringers, ringing them in steel. The captain himself stood at Meralda’s back while she opened the laboratory doors and spoke the word that soothed her wards.
“You lads go first,” said the captain. Meralda didn’t argue.
Mug groaned softly as she took his cage.
The guards closest to the stairs tensed and called for someone to halt. Meralda turned, watched Donchen slowly take the last pair of steps, his arms raised, his face grim and smeared with something dark.
Oil, thought Meralda. He’s got oil on his face.
“Let him through,” she said. The words caught in her throat the first time, and she had to lick her lips and take a breath and try again.
“I said let him through.”
The ring of guardsmen parted, and Donchen made his way to Meralda.
Donchen was filthy. His clothes were torn and streaked with filth. He stank of the gutters, and something even worse.
“I was there,” he said. “They were waiting in the sewer beneath the street. I tried to stop them.” He dipped his head in a tiny bow. “I failed.”
“Come inside.”
Kervis and Tervis sidled past Meralda and entered the laboratory, hands on hilts.
“It’s empty,” said Kervis, after a moment.
Meralda took Donchen’s hand. He looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise, and then smiled.
His hand is warm, thought Meralda. What a silly thing to notice. Of course his hand is warm. It’s a hand.
“We’ll be right here,” growled the captain. “If anything wants in it can see how it likes being cut to pieces first.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Meralda, feeling her face flush crimson at the stares of so many guards.
She pulled Donchen inside, and quickly shut the door.
Donchen mopped at his face with a clean washcloth as he perched in her rickety spare chair.
“So you think he’ll heal?”
Meralda gently pushed Mug’s new soil down. Mug remained upright, his leaves twitching now and then. All his eyes were closed, and he muttered now and then, but never quite formed words.
“He will.” Meralda frowned and cleared her throat. “Of course he will. His roots are intact. His stems are bruised but not broken. He’ll be fine.”
Goboy’s mirror streamed bright, warm sun onto Mug. Meralda gave him another half-turn so all his leaves could take in some light.
Donchen nodded. His lower lip was split. His right eye was going puffy and dark. Meralda could tell from his stiff posture and barely hidden grimaces he had bruised, if not broken, ribs beneath his soiled white shirt.
I’ve never seen a more handsome man in all my life, she thought.
“I smell like an outhouse,” he said, grinning. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for that. It is not a practice in which I habitually engage.”
“Nonsense. Tirlish sewers smell of roses and perfume,” said Meralda. “You still haven’t told me what led you to enter one in the first place.”
“I carry a device similar to the one I gave you. It showed the presence of Hang magic along your route. I happened to be traveling ahead of you, so I took a bit of a detour and found a group of singularly unusual ropes gathering below the street.”
“And you tried to fight them all, at once?”
Donchen shrugged and grimaced at the effort. “I did first attempt to reason with them, Mage. But they were determined to do you harm. I decided to slow them down by entangling myself in all of their various lengths. Oh, how they struggled to escape my implacable grasp!”
Meralda smiled. “I see that. I imagine they were close to surrender when my carriage arrived.”
“Very nearly. Another moment and I’d have made bell pulls of them all.”
“Grapefruit,” muttered Mug. “Prancing hornbill.”
Donchen laughed, wincing.
“The truth is, Mage, they overwhelmed me from the first. My own magical defenses failed. Almost as if they were anticipated. Troubling, that.”
“I thought your butterflies revealed all the Hang conspirators. Have they not been…?”
Meralda hesitated, searching for words.
“Tried? Executed? Boiled in oil?” Donchen shrugged. “Truly, Mage, I don’t know what, if any, actions have been taken against them. The machinations of the House of Chezin are often well beyond my understanding.”
I find that troubling, thought Meralda.
Donchen’s slate-grey eyes met Meralda’s. “I am pleased to see that your own arcane defenses proved more than adequate.”
Meralda remembered the thrill of power she felt while holding Nameless and Faceless.
“Many of the older artifacts here are quite powerful,” she said. The lie lay bitter on her lips. “The king will be livid when he gets the bill for the water mains.”
“A small price to pay, I think.”
Is that pain in his eyes?
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” said Meralda.
“Quite the contrary. You came to mine. I was being throttled right below your feet, when you turned my assailant into a rather showy cloud of ash.” Donchen stood. “I do smell of an outhouse. Might I borrow yonder water closet, before Mug wakes and decides I am a compost heap?”
“I’ll have fresh clothes sent up,” said Meralda, wrinkling her nose. “I can send for some of your own, if you like.”
Donchen rose slowly from his chair, holding his ribs as he moved. “Actually, I’d prefer a guard uniform, if that’s not too much a slap in the face to Tirlish military tradition. Mail shirt, helmet, sword. Can that be done?”
Puzzled, Meralda shouted for Tervis, who came at a trot.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I need a uniform,” said Meralda. “In Donchen’s size. With arms. Can you do that, quietly, without telling anyone why?”
Tervis grinned and straightened. “Right away! Straight sword or Argen curved?”
“Straight, please,” said Donchen. “And sharp. Very sharp.”