The Seekers of Fire (3 page)

Linden hugged her silently and pressed tightly.
Everything is all right,
she wanted to say, but the words got stuck in her throat as Cal's silent tears dampened her shoulder. Nothing was all right when you thought that voluntarily surrendering the reins of your life to another was the least evil choice you could make. Nothing was all right when you agreed. And everything was wrong when you refused to kneel but happened to fall, and those kneeling beside you "
accidentally
" overturned a heavy bucket on your limbs so that you could not rise again.

"You don't have to do anything!"

Calia looked at her as if slapped, and Linden clenched her teeth, trying to control both the odd feeling at the back of her mind and her anger. After four days, she had decided that there was no point in being angry. Those at the well had just been afraid that her disobedience would reflect on them as well. There was nothing personal. She had been afraid herself, especially when she had finally lost control of her body. Yet, at that moment the water under the ice on which the Ber man stood had erupted. At that moment, too, Linden herself would not have had enough strength to stand back up, even without the impeding bucket.

She was even more afraid now. Now, she had heard about the Factories and seen Cal make a choice that almost no one had made in generations.

Things were worse than Linden had thought. People thought that the firepipe system was broken—but it was not just the system.

The Magic itself was broken.

Linden shivered, shifting her gaze away from Calia's tears. Ber Magic was broken, and yet ... The water had moved exactly as she had imagined, and even four days later, looking at the smallest liquid still made her dizzy. She tried to smile, stroking Calia's hair. No one knew. If they did, she would not be here.

"Things will somehow turn out well, Cal. If you pray to the Master—" She stopped before she could add, "it will be useless." The old man did not listen, and Linden could not blame him. Perhaps it would help if people tried to think and act before resorting to prayers. And undoubtedly the Master would hear better if he existed ...

Linden forced her eyes closed, sweat wetting her eyelids. Perhaps going for a walk had been a mistake. Even though the Bers rarely came back for those they had spared, the Mentors were around, and she was not in the best shape to keep her thoughts private.

Then again, she was not in the best shape to be a self-imposed prisoner, either. Even if she were, there were still Confessions to be made, and even the smartest and most stable young people might not be safe on the Day of the Master. Sometimes, it was them the Bers sought.

"I will pray for you too, Lind," Calia whispered as if in answer to her thoughts, then suddenly the girl's body shook with nervous tremors. If Linden did not do something fast, Cal was going to scream, and she could punch and bite hard during such moments, too, although it was "
oh so unfeminine
" otherwise. Linden jumped to her feet, pulling Cal's hand hard.

"Stand up, Cal! Come on, move! We will freeze if we sit there a little longer!"

It was true. The remains of Calia's tears had transformed into delicate ice spiderwebs on her face, and her hair was glistening with frost. It was like the hair of a misplaced winter lady from the fairytales that Linden, being a person older than ten, was discouraged to read.

"I am frozen already." Calia huddled into her cloak, without obvious further intentions to move.

As well as pouting and spoiled, waiting for me, or preferably someone male, to help you on your feet.
Calia might after all do well as a concubine.

Or perhaps not. It was Calia, not Linden's other acquaintances, some of whom had claimed to be her friends, who dared walk by Linden's side today. Linden pulled Cal's hand again, harder, feeling her friend's tremors even through their gloves. It was hard to pull. Cal's body was light enough, but Linden's was, too, and right now she lacked her normal strength.

Linden closed her eyes. It would be easier if she did not look at Cal's tears, or at the water in the gutter on the edge of the street a few meters behind. Then, when the girl was up, Linden could rub her head and neck. Her healer dad had shown her the movements, and she had painstakingly searched his books for the explanation of why they worked. Rare as this were, there
was
an explanation. Most of the time Dad's books, like all books, only described what actions to perform; most of the time they, like all books, offered many "
how-s
" and few relevant "
why-s.
"

Massage worked because it increased blood flow and thus countered stress, hysterics, and even the feeling of cold—

Linden's feet quivered. She had just imagined the exact workings of the blood-flow diagram she had drawn to complement the book. Blood could move exactly
like water.
And even Cal's mind—suddenly Linden knew that it might be possible to touch a mind with water.

She was struggling to breathe now, and yet she would not stop thinking of this. A gasp. Another one. Faintness, her vision blurring—finally she might have tumbled into the gutter, if not for the unexpected strong hand gripping her shoulder.

"Suddenly feeling like dancing, Lind?" Calia's eyes were sparkling with both relief and mischief. The girl stood steadily on her feet, absentmindedly fingering her neck with her other hand.

"Yes." Linden laughed, for the first time in four days. A tiny spark at the back of her mind urged that what she had just done warranted concern rather than merriment, but merriment it was.

She could do Magic with her thoughts. She had done it twice in the last four days, and both times she had thought about Science and about how water moved. She had done Science
despite the lack of tools.
What did that mean? That Science was important, for certain, despite what people thought. That Science was indeed
useful,
not just a set of dry, stupid facts that children were forced to learn in school together with other dry, stupid facts, all of which they forgot at the first convenient moment. You did not use facts in real life. You cared not for the strange so-called laws of nature or rules of Mierenthia. You could not use them. Even if you were a Master Crafter, you could not. Perhaps even Mentors could not, for all Linden knew. What anyone
could
use was the rituals that the Bers made and gave, the rituals that Mentors taught children and their parents, or Master Crafters taught apprentices and helpers—the words to say, the motions to make, to make things happen. Safe words. Relatively safe motions. It had been a safe world—or so everyone used to say. The Bers made it safe, and the Mentors. They faced the unspeakable every day, so that other people could live in peace.

But of course. As if she would believe something like this.

Linden smiled to herself.

There
must
be a way to investigate and discover the forbidden rules of Magic, as well as those rules of Science that the three tiny books did not give (she was certain there were many). It must be possible to use them all together, and do,
make,
something big and meaningful.

To do Magic with Science, with the help of neither rites nor tools, by someone who was neither a Ber nor even a Mistress Crafter yet—it should not be possible.

But it was.

She must have known it all her life. Now she had evidence. This must be the first step of the way to greatness.

Provided that you stay alive, of course,
the feeling at the back of her mind grumbled, but Linden shut it down as she steadied her feet. She would think about staying alive later. Just now she felt invincible.

She grabbed Calia's waist and span both of them into a wild whirlwind dance.

"Let's go for a nice long walk, Cal! We can always look for that husband of yours tomorrow."

"Right, Lind!" Cal shouted happily. "There are fourteen days left, after all, and today is such a beautiful day!"

Rianor and Linden

Day and Night 77 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705

Rianor tried to smile encouragingly as he adjusted his coat and sat beside the table.
Perhaps I should remove it,
he thought,
they do not trust me yet.
He had already removed his gloves, but the metal cup of tepid drink that the woman had offered him had warmed his fingers well enough. A
hot
drink would be welcome, but he would have to wait for that until he got back home. He had forgotten that commoners could not make hot food and drinks at home but got them prepared from neighborhood kitchens or canned from the store. Usually the food and drinks were deliberately cooled before they left the kitchens, and in winter they would often become fully cold by the time people brought them home. No one but Bers and Mentors ever saw fire, for it was always enclosed in pipes, stoves, buckets or wells. However, commoners, all but the Master Cooks and their workers in the kitchens, could not even
feel
fire. In homes, even in times of abundance, fire was too weak for anything but making the temperature inside barely tolerable and for somewhat re-warming food and drinks.

Rianor resisted a sigh. The temperature here was not even tolerable. He had become used to being without a coat outside while watching the firewells, but he had worn a commoner's cloak, which was almost as warm. And here was almost as cold as outside.

The man seemed to have noticed. "I will increase the fire, your lordship."

Of course, use it all now, and then chill that girl to death later.
He made a mental note to send them more fire when he got back. Qynnsent's own fire was enclosed in pipes and thus unreachable, but in a Noble House there must still be some full firebuckets for emergencies. He could spare those.

"I am fine, my good sir. Please, do sit down."

The man obeyed, just like he was supposed to.
In his own home,
lord Rianor thought. The man did not even seem to have realized what he was doing. Or perhaps he had. Either the light of the tiny candle tricked Rianor's eyes, or for a fraction of a second the look the healer shot him was anything but submissive.

Rianor smiled at them again. "Mister Ellard, Mistress Kelley, I am Rianor, High Lord of the House of Qynnsent. I would like to talk about your daughter."

The woman's cup settled in its saucer a bit too roughly, and the shadows beneath the man's eyes deepened. He looked pale and worn out, and Rianor realized that he must have been sick very recently. His wife reached for his hand beneath the flower-patterned tablecloth, but when they looked at Rianor their faces were unreadable.

"What about Linden, my lord?" They spoke in unison, and the voices were so expressionless that it irked him. Rianor could not contain himself.

"I would like to test her."

"Test her for
what,
High Lord Rianor?"

Ah, now that was the spirit. Gone was the control from the mother's voice. She stared at him, and there was a certain glow in her amber eyes. Albeit not as strong, it resembled the glow that he had seen in the daughter's four days ago, when she had passed through the crowd on her way home. The same amber eyes, which on Linden's exquisite face had been sharp with intelligence, fury, and utmost contempt for those around her.

The father was also watching him intently, so Rianor locked each of their gazes in turn, forcing them to look away. Although he appreciated these people's uncommon lack of servitude, he could not afford to allow them too much freedom now. Then again, there was no point in making them additionally nervous, either.

"I would like to test her Science abilities, madam." His look was more amiable now. "Your daughter is listed as an apprentice applicant with the Science guild, and I have learned from one Mister Podd that she is his brightest student and exhibits, as he put it, an incredible talent in Science. I myself am doing research in some Science areas, and I happen to be in need of an apprentice. Since the Day of the Master is approaching fast, I would like to discuss the possibility with Linden. I would also like to start tonight, when she comes home from her walk."

He waited for them to assimilate his proposal. He was giving their daughter the chance of her life. There were very few ways for a commoner to rise to nobility, and one of them was to become an apprentice to a noble. This, although not unseen, did not happen often. It was too risky an endeavor, since nobles and commoners thought in vastly different ways.

She does not seem to think like other commoners, though,
Rianor mused. She seemed too rebellious for that. Also, he was certain that she did have an unnatural skill. It should be worth it.

* * *

An hour later he was outside, waiting for her to come home. The houses were cramped close to each other, and the small balconies on the second floors of two adjacent buildings formed something like a tunnel, where he could stand without being seen from the street. The parents had politely asked him to wait in the apartment, but he had told them that he would be back later. In this way he did not intrude into their tiny space for longer than necessary, and they had some time to wonder whether he would really come back.

It was getting colder and darker, and the shadows were growing, including his own. Rianor moved further back into the tunnel and huddled in his coat, drawing the hood lower over his face. It was so cold that even his hair felt brittle at the touch of the heavy cloth. "
Cold is evil.
" This was a line from the book that he had read just before coming, and he sighed in annoyance. Simple but powerful Ber propaganda phrases were able to wriggle themselves even into
his
mind.

We'll see about that evil,
Rianor thought.
Soon enough.

Linden came with another girl, the two of them emerging from behind the grove at the side of the street. There were trees in the neighborhood, some of them in this street. Even narrow and crowded as it were, the street might be beautiful when they had leaves, but Rianor's investigations had revealed that the commoners avoided them. Trees were living things,
and
they had too much to do with water.