I took a deep breath before setting my foot – the good, right one that wasn’t half see-through beneath the robe, the one that could still feel – on solid ground. The urge came over me to fling myself down on my face, hug the earth, promise it I’d never leave it again. Quivering slightly, I mastered myself. Jaid accepted my arm across her shoulders, and I used her to steady myself, steering us across the docks and into the strange crowds.
It wasn’t like it was really solid ground, anyway. The quay wasn’t immune to the swells of the waves, swaying slightly as it bucked the tide. Spray coming over the lip of the promenade formed ten-foot-high whips of icy foam. Even though I could see the way up to the next level, a ramp not fifty yards off, getting there was an altogether different proposition. Dozens upon dozens of dock-hands were everywhere – unloading crate after crate, hefting them here and there, bellowing all the while over the cries of the sea in their own equally-foreign voices… This was all new, and suddenly I felt afraid.
It was a new kind of fear. Isolation. I’d overextended. Where was I? Where had my machinations brought us?
At least I had some funds, and my magic that would ensure I kept hold of it. We were only spared repeated jostling by the fact I wore a magician’s garment, judging by the looks I got. The fact that neither of the twins asked what the women in the shadows under the walkways were doing there in such weather-defying outfits, pouting at the workers as they went about their shifts – this was no less a cause for concern than our location, our isolation, even if was only abstract for now. Did I have to talk to them about that sort of thing? I couldn’t even remember what Dad had said to me, years ago, when I was their age, a bit older… I’d always basically assumed Xantaire would cover that with Jaid, and when it came to my brother, well… It wasn’t like I had this all planned out.
I quickly led them away from the shadow-clad ladies, up the broad wooden ramp into the city proper. Within two minutes we were in the midst of a market district overhanging the bay, surrounded by light and music and laughter.
What a difference a few cooking-pits and bards made. We warmed up by one of the bonfires, and we basked in the wonderful aromas of food-stuffs that didn’t originate in the sea. Yes, there were hundreds of fish and oysters to go around, but what I could smell was chicken, or some similar bird. Pork, too. Even roast carrot, covered in some kind of delicious herb.
After a minute I managed to fix a smile on my face, and, the way I figured it, so long as I was trying to buy ten or less of something, I was going to be fine. I could fake being normal. For the first time in what felt like forever I ate a carrot, and all my concerns melted away. I lingered there, chewing on the lovely purple thing in bliss while the twins went about exploring, their own snacks of choice in hand. The locals cast me strange looks, but the vendors accepted my copper without question and gave me change in their own denomination, trading a single fat Mundic coin for two tiny Telese ones and some copper bits. One of them, a big, red-cheeked woman with an otter-fur hat, looked a bit afraid when she handed me my change, but I did my best to smile reassuringly, pocketing the metal pieces without question. I could figure it all out later, and it made it easier to give the twins some spends. Myself, too – I spent a good fifteen minutes inspecting the masterful work of a wood-carver, and, unable to decide between the awesome dual-wielding knight and the smiling dwarf, I bought both. They sort of reminded me of Phanar and Herreld, respectively, and those were parts of Mund that weren’t tainted in my memory. People I could remember without scowling.
Most of the natives were speaking in their own tongue – it was remarkably similar to what I’d heard of Onsoloric, given the vast distance between the two regions – but there were tradesmen from other places here, and the Mundic language was the common tongue of the world. These more-worldly types were less fazed by my mage-robe, and I ended up talking with a cinnamon merchant, a short, raven-haired woman called Ysara Hoad, and her packhorse of a husband, Pegoras, who were actual Mundians. They’d resettled here with their family a decade back: “getting away from all the craziness,” that was how Ysara chose to put it.
“You’re going to have to watch out,” I warned her, “telling the truth about things like that. The priests of a certain god will be conscripting you as a soothsayer.”
She loosed a short burst of laughter like a horn. “Oh, not here they won’t. The priests of most gods don’t have much power in Telior – it’s not like Mund, you know? I do think there’s a priest of Kultemeren here, somewhere… But only the Twelve and Wyrda… Virdut, here by the way… only they’ve got proper shrines. And they take their religion pretty seriously. Pray over their food and the like.” She turned back to the barrel-carrying Pegoras, directing his positioning of their wares atop their stall, then returned her gaze to me, eyeing me critically. “That’s something else, you know… How old are you, lad?”
I scrutinised her. I didn’t really want to give away my real age, did I? Every fact that could pinpoint Kastyr Mortenn would have to be avoided, every shred of information adjusted slightly to allow for betrayal…
“Good answer,” she commented before I could say anything. “Look, I’m guessing you’re not eighteen yet. Here, you’ve got to be eighteen to be an adult, legally. You’re lucky you’re tall… I’d watch what I said, if I was you. Especially around the king’s men. If you’re brought before ‘em, the knights are just as like to throw you in jail, magic or –“
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“Wait – they have knights here?”
My mind showed me the pictures of guys in silver armour, resplendent on their white steeds, pennants flowing like ribbons from their lances as they rode through green fields.
Not likely here.
But Ysara was nodding. “Course. Not like the paladins, you know, but the sons of the nearby nobles are all Auvri This and Auvri That, just like in the stories of far-off places… Oh… I mean, Sir This and Sir That, in Telese… Anyway, yeah, they’ve all got to be the biggest and baddest, got to impress their daddies and their girlfriends. Barely a pleasant soul between ‘em, never mind amongst ‘em.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. But I can promise you this – I won’t be going to prison.”
I glanced around at the foreign faces, the vertical Sticktown cladding the bay… this place, this Telior that had just received a seasoned champion, an exile of the coven of magic-users that existed in the heart of the world.
Would it follow me across the oceans? The trouble, the misery, the grief – did it belong to Mund, or did it cling to my shadow as we rode the waves?
I looked back at Ysara only to find that she was regarding me with a certain amount of trepidation now. Being a Mundian, she perhaps had some notion of what terrifying power I might have concealed inside this youthful body.
“I don’t think I’ll be staying,” I said by way of explanation, and she settled somewhat. “Or if I am staying, and they want to take me in for some reason, I’ll just leave. Don’t worry – I’m not here to cause trouble. At all.”
She nodded again, understanding in her eyes. “No, I know that. No one comes here, from there, if they’re looking to cause trouble… This is nowhere.”
She offered a wan smile by way of parting, turning away to her husband.
For a moment I looked at them, safe in their cocoon of normalcy, the pleasant average lives they shared. I was firmly on the other side of the fence now. In a matter of months I’d gone from wondering how to make my mark on the world, to wondering what it would be like not to have a hand in the fate of all things.
The truth was, this cocoon of normalcy they shared wasn’t safe at all. The slightest suggestion of dragon’s breath would pop it like a bubble of red saliva on the lips of an elf’s corpse. The doom of Mund would be the doom of the world before long, if it came to pass.
I closed my eyes, imagining what it would be like. The Dracofont, alive again. Every inhabitant of the Realm a target, a morsel to be churned in their millions within the bellies of our resurgent overlords. Every archmage a liability, sought out by the demons in the Incursions…
We should’ve all left – my predecessors should’ve all departed years ago. Let the city and its prophecies die. Forced the Magisterium to give up on their vain dream – to keep the reins of fate in their hands, ride the chariot until it crumbled beneath their feet and churned their bones to join the dust below.
Now I was here, listening to the incomprehensible chanting, the cries of sailors and sea – and they were still there in their marble jail, still taking part in the nightmare.
Maybe now I could be normal. Maybe I could be like the Hoads. Find some simple work. Get married, have children, live, die… Timesnatcher and the others would deal with the dragons somehow…
“I’ll remember you, if I decide to stick around and take up a baker’s mittens.” I eyed the pungent barrels of cinnamon-sticks; Ysara and Pegoras swung their heads about at me, and Ysara laughed briefly in polite acknowledgement.
I headed off to find the twins, but I’d only gone three steps before she shouted at my back: “Lad! If you’re looking for lodgings, try the Flying Swordfish. Run by a Mundian. Five streets up!”
I tried to thank her, but the crowd got between us, and rather than stand there like a gormless idiot I hoped she got the message and left the stall behind.
Jaid was throwing away copper bits on some game that had her tossing wooden hoops onto three upright sticks – the prize for the winner was a porcelain doll that could’ve been a miniaturised mekkustremin, replete with tangled hair, scary eyes, a painted-on smile. I could see immediately that getting a hoop onto the farthest stick was going to be ten times more difficult than the previous one.
Once she failed again – to her credit, she took it well, losing with her dignity intact – I took over. Satyr-reflexes went some way to aiding me with accuracy, and I only failed the last throw once, sending my hoop spinning around the final stick on my second try. Jaid hugged me, then hugged her new doll; over her shoulder I saw the sour look on the face of the supervisor as he regarded me in my mage’s robe.
I had her go find Jaroan to show him her trophy, then sidled up to the man.
“Yeah, you got me – I cheated.” I did my best to crack a smile. “How much was it worth?”
“One of your fat Mundian silvers, I reckon, chum,” the Telese trickster replied in only slightly-accented Mundic.
“So, I’m going to assume you doubled that.” My smile was genuine now. “How about one of these little silver ones?”
“I don’t like you, Mundian.” He folded his arms across his chest. “A fat silver, chum, or I go to the overseers.”
I froze for a moment, shocked by his hostility. I’d extended the hand of friendship, openly, before he’d even commented on my apparel. My mind was cast adrift – I was the outsider here, the treacherous interloper – the murderous sorcerer – and then my anchor seized hold on the correct response.
“Or perhaps I didn’t do anything wrong at all,” I said coldly. I could hear the pitch of my own voice, my ever-so-slightly more-refined tone. “Goodbye.”
I turned on my heel, expecting to hear him call after me, cry out for the silver I’d offered – and I’d drop some copper bits in his hand, or on the floor at his feet if he continued to test me –
But he didn’t say anything and, feeling slightly miffed at the lost opportunity, I continued after Jaid. I didn’t need to be joined with a vampire to feel his gaze burning into my back.
And already, I’ve made an enemy, I sighed inwardly.
At least I had my answer.
It clung to my shadow as we rode the waves.
* * *