Tribute (7 page)

‘Knowledge Seekers? Who are they?'

‘Rebels. I've been spying for them since I was ten. They're ordinary people. Guildspeople who want the freedom to learn, to work for themselves – not their overlords. They want to build machines, to learn to read and write. To find out. They seek knowledge because knowledge is freedom. And most of all – like me – they want to stop the Tribute tax.'

‘You mages will never let that happen!'

‘The rebels know they'll have to fight for their freedom. As your people did long ago. You won. It's why mages hate and fear Makers.' I'm whispering. My heart is racing and my hands are cold and clammy. These words hold such danger for us both. He won't even begin to guess how much. ‘You must
never
mention the Knowledge Seekers! If the Archmage thought you knew –'

‘Don't worry!' Fear clouds his eyes again. ‘I won't let on. And the lad can't say anything. But tell your Knowledge Seekers that when I leave, the boy comes with me.'

‘Yes. I promised, remember? When are you going to trust me?'

For a moment he stares at me. Then he reaches out and touches the mage mark on my right cheek, my mother's mark, tracing its curves.

‘Mages may fear us, but we Makers believe you to be demons.' He smiles into my eyes. ‘I would never have believed a demon could be so beautiful.'

The street children of Asphodel play a game, kicking a ball made from a goat bladder inflated with air. The atmosphere in the palazzo feels like one of those balls filled to bursting point. Something is going to happen. But what? Perhaps I'm imagining the feeling. I can't stop thinking of Aidan. But I don't dare try to speak to him again because Otter has started keeping watch on me. I fear he somehow knows I managed to talk to the Maker again. And that he has told my father.

A guard boldly follows me each morning as I leave the palazzo. They wait outside the Academy and trail me back in the afternoon. I can't even slip away to the market to warn the Knowledge Seekers that something's in the air. All I can do is hope I'm wrong, dutifully attend my classes, and wait for my chance.

Swift haunts my dreams, as do Aidan and his apprentice. As each day dies without contact with the Knowledge Seekers, I fear the Maker must once more believe that I've forgotten him and my promise. I can think of nothing else, and the dreams become nightmares.

Then one night I'm woken by a hand pressing on my mouth. My first thought is that my wards haven't worked and I will have to strengthen them. Next, that I've never killed anyone before and don't want to start now. I harden the air next to me into a shield and use another layer of air to shove the intruder away. The hand peels from my mouth and I hear my attacker crash to the floor.

I sit up in bed and kindle fire in my right palm, lifting it high. This is no mage. Could Aidan somehow have escaped his prison room? If so, he's taking a huge risk. I send the fire to hover over the head of the intruder, who's groaning and struggling upright.

‘Twiss!'

I see her nod of approval as I whisper her name, rather than shouting it. For a second annoyance overwhelms any other thought. Does Twiss really think me such a fool? But I shove my irritation aside. The thief wouldn't brave the palazzo unless something was badly wrong.

As quickly as I can, I soundproof our conversation, hardening the air around us into a translucent shell, like shimmering mother-of-pearl. It takes longer than it should: fear makes it difficult to concentrate.

‘Why are you here?' I demand. ‘What's happened?'

The thief eyes the air-shell with suspicion. ‘Bad news.' Her harsh voice sounds rusty. For a moment, her face twists with grief.

‘The foundry?'

‘Gone. They came for us.'

I'd known it must be this, but it feels like someone has kicked me in the stomach. ‘Casualties?'

‘All dead but one.' Again, the contortion of grief, quickly mastered. ‘They took Bruin.'

Twiss's voice is monotone but I can see the child shaking. Oh gods, not this! Nausea rises in my throat and I shut my eyes for a moment. If the blacksmith is lucky, he'll be dead now. But he will have told  …  oh, everything. And he had much to tell. The news couldn't be worse, and it means my own situation is desperate.

‘You have to help him!'

My eyes flick open in amazement. Has the thief gone mad?

‘No one can help him. You know that.'

The child's mouth grows mulish. ‘I'll take you to Bruin. You have great powers  …  Lady.' Twiss almost snarls the title. ‘You can save him if you will!'

‘And I will not. I'm sorry, Twiss, but if Bruin's not dead, he will be soon. The prison will be crawling with mages. I can't fight them all: I'd be caught or killed. And they would find out about me all the sooner.'

‘They'll find out anyway!' The child's eyes glitter. ‘The guard are out. They've arrested many Knowledge Seekers. Even without Bruin, your secret won't last the night. My guild can offer you shelter, Lady. But only if you help me find Bruin. If you don't, I'll leave you to the mercy of your own kind. What will they do to you  …  Lady?'

The thief watches me. Her face is impassive but her voice taunts. It feels like being slapped. I take a deep breath. I didn't know till now that Twiss hates me.

‘Will they kill you for playing traitor?' The child's voice hisses through the darkness.

‘Squash the air from your lungs or suck the water out of you so you die slowly, twisted up in pain like a cockle-fish? Heat the bones in your body so you cook inside out? Peel your skin layer by layer?'

‘They won't kill me.' I fight to stay calm, but I feel the blood drain from my face, leaving me giddy and weak. I've rehearsed this moment, but pretend is never the same as real. Twiss is right: I can't stay in the palazzo. But I can't rescue the blacksmith. Or Aidan!

At the thought of the Maker, my heart begins to thud painfully. I'm abandoning him and his Tribute child. But I have no choice – I'm his only chance. I must escape, find the remaining Knowledge Seekers, get help. If I'm caught  …  The feeling of helplessness shreds the last of my self-control. I'm near to tears.

‘I
cannot
help you.'

‘Then die!' The child spins on her heel.

I stop her mid-stride, fastening the girl's bare feet to the wooden floor with a swift thought.

‘Devil's spawn! Mage!' Twiss struggles, spitting with fury, but her feet remain stuck.

How can I convince her? I take a deep breath. ‘I'll bargain with you.'

The child glares at me with suspicion.

‘I will mind-search for him. See if he's alive. But that means I'll have to leave my body. You'll have to guard it. Can I trust you?'

‘Find Bruin!'

‘This is dangerous. I could be detected.'

‘Then be careful!'

With a sigh, I release the thief. ‘Very well.'

I settle back onto my bed and stare at the marble inlay of the high ceiling, trying to ignore the chill of the room and compose myself. I never enjoy sendings. There's always the chance that my consciousness might get lost and never find its way back. Pushing the thought away, I shut my eyes and concentrate.

With surprising ease, a thread of awareness floats free and pauses for a moment, observing my body lying on the bed, watched over by a frowning, dirty child. I concentrate on my memory of Bruin and direct the sending towards the prison. If the smith is alive, he'll be there.

Nothing. Well, I hadn't expected it. Bruin is probably dead. The thought fills me with sadness, but I push the emotion away. I can't afford the distraction. And I don't want to think about him as a person I liked and admired when I'm going to have to go now and look in the torture rooms. I anchor one end of my mind even more firmly to my body, then stretch myself thinner and thinner, until I become a slender wire of thought slicing through space, air and stone into the dark, airless cells of the prison.

I whip through room after room, stretched so thin that I observe their contents without emotion, almost without thought. At last, I find Bruin  …  what remains of him. I check to make sure, then return to the child.

I lurch upright, shaking with such violence that the bed shakes with me. My heart pounds and I gasp for air as though I've been swimming underwater. It isn't only the strain of being out of my body. Now that my consciousness is unstretched, my head is full of what I've seen – pictures worse than my darkest imaginings. It's all I can do not to be sick.

I clench chattering teeth and watch Twiss. There's no way to break the news gently and this child wouldn't know what to do with gentleness anyway.

‘He's dead.'

Incomprehension on the girl's face.

‘I touched him with my mind.' I speak slowly, watching for understanding. ‘No life remains.'

Twiss hugs herself, her face crumpling over and over while she struggles not to cry. ‘I don't believe you! I'd know if he was dead. I'd feel it  …  I'd  … '

I look away. I can't bear the naked agony on the girl's face.

‘What did they do to him?' The thief's voice is thick and slow with shock.

‘I can't tell you that.' I swallow, shudder. ‘He's dead. He's not suffering now. You've done all you can for your friend. Now guide me to sanctuary.'

‘No!' Twiss collapses onto her knees. She begins to sob uncontrollably, rocking back and forth. Her pain fills the air, sharp and fierce.

I lean forward and put my hand on her shoulder.

Twiss jerks away. She lurches to her feet and stands glowering at me, hiccuping with fury between sobs. ‘You're a mage, like the rest of them. You deserve to die! I ain't taking you anywhere.'

There's so little time. I have to escape and for that I need Twiss. But I won't use mind-control. I'd rather die. I have to convince her.

‘You want revenge. So do I. Yes, I'm a mage. That makes me the most powerful weapon you have. Can you afford to throw me away? What would your friend Bruin do?'

We stare at each other. My shivering eases, but as shock recedes a cold, deep fear seeps into my bones. I need to be out of here. Now.

Twiss sniffs, swipes at her nose. She frowns mutinously, then shrugs. ‘Come on, then. But hurry!'

I jump out of bed and begin to rifle through my wardrobe, pulling out last year's robes, ones no one is likely to remember when they search my clothes. I dress myself quickly, my mind on the escape plan I worked out months ago. Last of all, I take the wallet holding Swift's letter from under my pillow, slip the leather necklet over my head.

‘Quickly!' urges Twiss. ‘Come now.'

‘No.' I shake my head. ‘I have to do a little magic.' I watch the girl's eyes widen in disbelief. ‘It's necessary. The Archmage won't stop looking for me, so we must convince him that I'm dead. I've made preparations. A few minutes, only.'

The thief's hiss of anxiety loud in my ears, I set about what I have long practised. I lay my nightclothes upon my mattress and, reaching up, pluck a slender, very sharp knife from the air. I hid it in a fold in the air months before, but I don't have time to explain to Twiss and she allows a cry of amazement past her lips.

Of course she's shocked: it's unheard of for a mage to possess a knife. Why would we need one, when we could do the work of a knife with our minds?

‘This is why.' I answer Twiss's unspoken question as I saw off a small hunk of my hair and place it on my pillow. It's joined by a fingernail paring. And then  …  I take a deep breath, hold it, and press the point of the knife into the skin of my forearm. It hurts, and I'm surprised how difficult it is to force myself to keep pushing until bright red blood wells up and splashes onto the white sheet. When there's enough, I pull the knife out and keep it clenched in my fist as I quickly knit my flesh and skin back together. A trail of blood would give away my trick. I could have extracted the blood painlessly with magic, but I need bloodstains on the knife. And the pain is a promise.

I kneel and hold out the knife towards the hidden shrine where a small pendulum clock ticks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Twiss shrink away, making the sign of warding.

Lord Time, accept my blood as a willing sacrifice, and grant me success. Confound my enemies.
I concentrate on the ticking of the invisible clock, visualising the swing of the tiny pendulum. Steadied by its rhythm, I stand and begin. I've never attempted anything so complicated. This is adept's magic. I stare at the strands of hair, at the blood soaking into the sheet, and demand that they grow. Increase, change, fuse.

It's hard work, but slowly, a semi-human shape grows upon the bed. It's not alive in any sense of the word. But it has substance. I find that when I raise the knife over my head and plunge it into the place where a heart should be.

Twiss gasps.

I leave the knife embedded in the figure, raise both hands, and kindle fire. The fire flows from my hands onto the bed and the thing it contains. It puddles on the bed, lapping merrily, flickering upwards, consuming. Little will remain. But there will be enough to lead the searchers to believe that Zara, only child of Benedict, Archmage of Asphodel, is dead.

I dissolve the soundproof shell and nod to the thief. Twiss stares at me, eyes wide with superstition and fear. But she turns at once and leads me out of the room.

Twiss disappears. The child seems to melt into the very stones of the palazzo. I gape at the spot where she was standing a moment ago, then jump as a hand grabs my wrist. The thief's face looms in front of me and I flinch in surprise.

Twiss bares her teeth in a mirthless grin. She lets go of me, jerks her head and slinks away, keeping low and creeping along the wall. She stops to glance back. The message is clear: follow and keep up!

I try to copy her movements but my arms and legs feel even clumsier. I ease round a corner to find I've lost her again. Nothing but shadows and cold dead stone. Torchlight flares at the end of a corridor and I freeze. Someone yanks me sideways into a cross passage. Mouth dry with fear, I squeeze against the wall beside an annoyingly calm Twiss as a group of guards pass, wooden batons drawn, escorting a huddle of kine. Guildspeople  …  almost certainly Knowledge Seekers. As the guards and their prisoners disappear from sight, Twiss turns her head and spits. Otherwise, during the entire journey, she makes no sound.

I make too many. I clench my teeth as I graze a wall with my shoulder. My boot scuffs the floor with a clunk that makes Twiss turn to glare at me. The thief seems able to turn invisible just by the way she moves, stands and breathes. Although it's heresy to think that a kine might be able to do magic, I can't explain it otherwise.

By the time we reach the cellars, her every movement expresses contempt. I've had enough.

‘Hang on!' I hiss and conjure a finger of mage light. It flickers, pale blue, above my head. I'm tired of travelling blind. The cellars are surely safe – the guards have no business down here, but neither do we. Why has the thief led me here? Twiss twirls around. Even in the dim light, outrage is plain on her face. I ignore her gestures to be silent. I want answers before I take another step. ‘Where are you taking me?'

‘I ain't tellin' you that,' she hisses. It's a secret between us thieves. I never even told Bruin. Now shut up and keep up or I'll leave you behind!'

I glare at her, at the end of my patience, then freeze in astonishment as she screams and rises into the air, twisting and winding like a ball on the end of a string.

‘I hesitate to interrupt, but I fear I
must
enquire  … ' The voice comes from a darkened doorway directly in front of us. I don't need light to know who it is. I know that voice only too well. ‘ …  what you, Lady, are doing in the cellars at this time of night. And in such company.'

Red mage light rises in the air over our heads, and in its lurid glow, Aluid's face leers out of the darkness. The bottle of wine tucked under one arm explains his own presence here – my tutor has taken a break from the night's activities to raid the wine cellars. His puffy eyes blink and he smiles. Like a cat tormenting a mouse.

Twiss screams. She dangles in mid-air and my heart lurches as I see the child's arms and legs folding up as though an invisible force is pressing them into her body. I can just see the sheen of hardened air encircling the girl. Aluid is crushing her.

‘Stop that!' My breath is coming fast, my heart racing. I have never battled another mage in a real contest. I have no idea if I even have the power to fight a fully trained adept. Perhaps a fight can be avoided: I'm Benedict's daughter. That must count for something.

‘I order you!' I try to say the words calmly and quietly, mustering as much authority as I can.

Aluid ignores me. He splits his mage light into three and hurls the fireballs across the room to light three wooden torches suspended in wall brackets. He takes a moment to enjoy the effect before turning to me. Even in the flickering torchlight I can see he looks amused. He can have no idea of my connection with the Knowledge Seekers or he would be appalled, infuriated, sickened – anything but amused. He's thinking, I can tell, how best to turn the situation to his advantage.

‘The creature touched you, Zara.' Aluid glances up at the writhing, moaning Twiss. He sneers in distaste. ‘And look at it – it's doubtless a thief. Possibly one of these outlaws we are rounding up. I'll take it to join its friends in prison. But thank you: you're right to stop me killing it. The thing may have useful information.'

I can't help it: my eyes flick up to Twiss. The thief's body is compressed into a foetal position, but the crushing seems to have stopped. I take a deep breath and compose a cold and unconcerned expression for Aluid.

‘But  … ' he continues, narrowing his eyes, ‘ …  you still haven't explained why you are in the palazzo cellars in the middle of the night. And why you were talking – actually talking – to this creature.'

‘You will address me as “Lady”.' I give him my haughtiest look. ‘And it is not for you to question my actions. You will release that kine to me. I am following my father's instructions. Do you question the will of the Archmage?'

‘I think  … ' Aluid advances towards me. I dislike people standing too near and have to fight the impulse to retreat. ‘I think,' he continues, ‘that we'll go and ask your father what he would like done with it. Doubtless he'll be delighted to have a chance for a chat with you. I know how close the two of you are.' He smiles.

My heart pounds in my ears. This is it, then. A shame he isn't as stupid as I'd thought. I smile back at Aluid, sharpen my will into a shiny blade and cut through his magic with a single swipe.

Twiss drops to the floor like a stone. I back away from Aluid, away from his heavy face twisting with shock and outrage as he realises what I've done. As I gather my magic for the first fight of my life, I hear the sound of feet, running away. Twiss has deserted me.

‘What in the name of Time  … ' My tutor advances on me. He sends a jolt of magic to slam both doors of the room shut.

‘I asked you not to interfere!' I step back. I try in vain to stop myself retreating. Of all my tutors, I loathe Aluid the most. Even for a mage, he is arrogant. And his breath stinks of fish.

‘The thief is a plant!' It's a desperate lie, but I have to say something. ‘She's spying on the Knowledge Seekers for us. I'm controlling her mind.' One look at his face tells me he doesn't believe a word.

‘It rather looked like she was controlling you.' Now that he has caught me out, Aluid stops stalking me. He twitches his robes into more elegant folds and smirks in triumph. ‘And how do you know about the Knowledge Seekers? Lord Benedict didn't tell you. He gave strict orders that you were to remain in ignorance of their activities. I think your father will most certainly want to talk to you.' Aluid raises a hand. I feel a hysterical desire to laugh. He always uses the grandest gestures for the simplest magic. Doesn't he know it slows him down and makes him look an idiot?

As he draws breath, I strike. I stick his feet to the floor, fasten his eyelids together and give him a nosebleed. Nursery tricks, but something in me baulks at the idea of killing – even Aluid. His yell is more outraged dignity than pain, but I don't take time to enjoy the sight of my tutor flailing his arms and toppling over. I hear the bottle of wine smash on the floor as I race for the sealed door, rusting its iron hinges and nails so that the whole thing collapses into a heap of wood. A sudden silence alerts me. I whirl around in time to see Aluid, free and no longer bleeding, stagger towards me, a deadly look in his eyes.

‘Childish tricks belong in the schoolroom, Lady,' he pants. ‘And children who choose to fight with grown-ups can get badly hurt! I just hope your father allows me the pleasure of questioning you myself!'

A sphere of crystalline air forms around me and begins to close in. He might stop short of squeezing me to death, but the look in my tutor's eyes foretells pain and humiliation. The air-ball shrinks rapidly until it shimmers a few inches from my face.

Aluid raises both hands and slows the compression to a snail's pace. ‘Let us see just how small a space you can fit into.' He smiles, showing yellow teeth.

‘You smell like a pile of rotting whitebait, Aluid!' I only hope he can't see how frightened I am. ‘Since you have a swamp for a mind, I suppose that's not surprising.'

I reach out a finger and touch the cage. It feels cold and hard as ice. Focusing all my concentration, I extract heat from the air inside the ball and use it to conjure fire. The sudden drop in temperature inside my cage makes me gasp in pain. Shivering uncontrollably, I release the fire. A blue, hot flame spews from the tip of my finger, fanning out until the entire air-cage is alight. Its heat sears and for a moment I think I've killed myself, but the ball flares red and is consumed, leaving nothing but a shimmer of warmth.

Before Aluid can react, I turn the stone floor beneath him to slurry. He sinks with a squelch up to his neck, and I harden the stone around him. I can feel his will fighting mine but, as often as the stone begins to soften, I harden it again. I'm panting, sweat dripping down my face and off my chin.

Fire consumes air; water consumes fire; earth consumes water; air consumes earth.
The litany runs through my head, but I find no inspiration. I'm reaching the end of my strength. I can keep Aluid trapped in the stone, but not for much longer. And I don't have enough strength left to walk out of the room. If I move a foot he will overpower me. We're both trapped.

A dark shadow flickers in the corner of my eye. Creeps along the edge of the far wall.

‘You can't keep this up.' Aluid grunts as he speaks. He looks like a decapitated head, his long, yellow teeth bared, his eyes glaring in a blood-stained face. ‘Your father won't kill you, I suppose, although he would be wise to do so. You are working with those scum, aren't you? You're a traitor to your race. Degenerate!' Spit foams down his chin.

I close my eyes. My legs are shaking uncontrollably. I recognise the signs: I've nearly used up my store of energy.

‘You're finished!'

I can shut out the sight of his face, but not his voice. It rages on and on.

‘By Time's grace, I'll be out of here within seconds. I'll deliver you up to your father. How proud he will be to welcome such a daughter. Benedict will cleanse your mind until it's as empty as a walnut hull. There'll be little of you left when he's done. Does the thought frighten you, Lady?'

My legs collapse. As I fall onto my knees, my concentration breaks. With a cry of triumph, Aluid shoves my mind away. I grapple with him but feel the stone begin to soften. He's won. I fall forward onto my face. Nausea floods through me and I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.

I'll kill myself. I'll never let them take my mind. Darkness swirls behind my eyes. As I fall into it I hear a crack, like the sound of a bat hitting a ball, and Aluid's voice stops.

Silence.