Aliyah

Maia hailed them an outdoor table at her chosen coffeehouse: a surprisingly dainty-looking place with potted succulents on the counter and cheerful green vines dripping from the eaves. The street looked a little quieter than Aliyah would have liked, but at least there were a few people passing through now and again. It certainly looked better than getting shot at in a dead-end back alley.

“I need a fucking coffee,” Kionah said as she sank into her seat. “Maybe a sandwich, too.” She glanced over at Aliyah. “We both need one, I think.”

“I think I’m fine,” Aliyah said. The fight had left her too queasy to eat.

Hesitantly, she sat down next to Kionah—directly opposite the Magician. The table was round and not very large; sure, it could sit the four of them, but the Magician could also easily lunge over if he wanted to. She noted how Kionah was holding the not-carnations under the table and gathered proto-vasodilation into her own hands. It never hurt to be careful.

“I’ll spot you the coffee, at least,” Kionah said. “It’s been one hell of a morning.”

“Oh?” Maia broke in. She hadn’t taken her seat, and she brushed her hair back with one hand in an aggrieved sort of way before crossing her arms. “You want coffee? With whose money?”

“With mine,” Kionah said, and pulled a pouch out of her pocket. She took out a single silver coin and handed it over to Maia. “Two standard coffees and one sandwich. Egg and watercress, if they have it. This should be plenty. Don’t stiff me on the change; I’ll know.”

“I’m not your waiter,” Maia replied, looking a little put-out.

“No,” Kionah agreed. “You’re not being paid.”

“Be nice, Kion, or I’ll pour your coffee over your head,” Maia said sharply. She turned to the Magician. “And what about you, Mister Mask?”

“I, uh, no,” said the Magician. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Maia rolled her eyes and walked off.

“So,” Kionah said, turning to the Magician. She squinted. “Any chance you’d be willing to show your face?”

“No,” he said, frowning audibly. “Could I be advised of your names? I guess you’re ‘Kion’.”

“Not ‘Kion’,” Kionah said, and didn’t elaborate. “Why do you need our names? Why don’t you know them in the first place?”

“The colleague who I spoke to gave me, ah, mere descriptions. No names. It’s a way to…verify, you see? That you really are safe and that you really are the right people.” He sounded so sincere that it seemed unquestionably forced. “So, what’s your name, if it’s not ‘Kion’?

“You can call me Carnation,” she said, gesturing unsubtly with the bouquet in her hand.

“Very well. ‘Carnation’. And you, err, young miss?” he asked, though he hardly sounded older than them.

She realised that he had turned his face to look at her, with something of an expectant air. The painted-on eyes of his mask seemed to bore into her very soul, and an uneasy feeling crept into the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was so clearly representing the concept of Magicianhood. And Magicians, she felt, couldn’t be trusted on the whole.

Perhaps if she were in this situation years ago, back when Karim and Cardainne had spoken on her behalf…but the memory of Kionah, tied down and bleeding, flashed through her mind with disturbing clarity. Now, she could hardly listen to this Magician. Not after what she had seen on the battlefield—the sigils in the air, how they had turned the skies as red as the blood they took.

She hesitated. “Scionsong,” she said, and waited for a reaction. It should be a safe bet; there were dozens upon dozens of unclaimed or orphaned Scionsongs among the lowborns, some relatively high-ranking and others not. The name alone didn’t give much away.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he replied. “And your esteemed illusionist?”

“She’s got nothing to do with us,” Kionah broke in. “It’s unfortunate that she’s here at all.”

The Magician leaned back and crossed his arms as Maia returned with a tray of food and drink.

“Illusionist?” he asked. “To which name may I call you?”

“Huh?” Maia scowled, passing some copper coins and a pair of covered paper cups over to Kionah. “Depends on who’s asking.” She dumped a paper bag onto the table before she sat and took the remaining food on the tray for herself: a bowlful of yogurt and a tall glass of what looked like pale tea, overflowing with ice, and with a wedge of lemon shoved in for good measure.

The Magician tilted his head slightly. With his mask, it resembled the movement of a real owl—but not quite natural, and not quite right.

Aliyah stared at him as Kionah bit into her sandwich and passed her one of the cups. Having a Magician at one’s table was simply…not normal. Not reasonable. Not reassuring. There was just something uncomfortably…off, about it. Morning tea with a Magician. That string of words sounded almost surreal. She tried to wash away her unease with a mouthful of coffee. It was stronger than she expected, and she almost choked. It certainly smelled better than it tasted. This stuff had been stupidly expensive back in Shadowsong; she wondered why people bothered.

“It’s out of interest, that’s all,” the Magician replied after an uncomfortably long pause.

Maia jabbed a paper straw through the ice-cube maze of her drink. “Rosalie,” she said with a frown.

“You made that up just then,” Kionah said, snorting. “Don’t tell me—did you choose it because roses are sweet and virtuous and so very unlike you?”

“It is, in fact, my actual second name,” Maia said, and then sucked a noisy sip through her straw. “My grandmother chose it for me. You know, I’ve heard that if you’ve nothing nice to say, then you shouldn’t say it at all.”

“Thank you, Rosalie,” the Magician said a little uncertainly. “And back to the topic at hand—”

“Wait a minute,” Aliyah broke in, and winced inwardly at how her voice wavered. “I think we’d like to know more about the person who sent you.” She clenched a fist under the table and wondered why Rana would choose such an obtuse messenger—if she’d chosen this one in the first place.

“I agree,” Kionah said. “I think you should tell us more about your mysterious benefactor.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Maia, this is disgusting. How many sugars did you ask for?”

Maia paused and smirked, spoonful of yogurt halfway to her lips. “Oh just the usual, Kion. What I don’t get is why you seem to loathe Mister Mask here. He practically saved us from the faeries you wouldn’t let me shoot.”

“Not important,” Kionah said. She scowled as she gulped at her coffee. “I’m asking him if—”

“No, I want to know what’s going on,” Maia interrupted. “What the hells is happening with you, Kion? You know this random guy from…wherever it was that you disappeared off to? I can’t believe that you won’t even give me a half-sensible explanation.”

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“Are you all from one…convocation?” The Magician asked. “Your illusionist doesn’t appear affiliated, but, uh—”

“I’m not ‘their’ anything,” Maia snapped. “Who are you?”

“Like I said, uh, I may not tell you. I’m not meant to be here, and if my superiors were to find out…”

“So you’re going against your so-called superiors to chase after us and ask confusing questions,” Kionah said through hasty bites of her sandwich. “I didn’t realise we were of such consequence, in contrast to the enormity of the faery attack. Did your benefactor finance your entire trip?”

“Well,” he fumbled, “you’re uh, important, to the kingdom.”

Kionah raised an eyebrow. “Yes. I suppose we are. Al—Scionsong, I need a moment to speak with you. Privately.” She tossed back the last dregs of her coffee.

“What?” Aliyah said, startled. “Right now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Am I not included?” Maia asked, arching a brow as she stirred at the ice in her drink.

“You finish your tea,” Kionah said. She scrunched up the remains of her sandwich bag and smiled with false-brightness. “We’ll be right back.”

“Well don’t go too far,” Maia said, scowling. “Stay in view, won’t you? Once you’re out of range, I won’t be able to keep your pretty little carnations looking that way.”

“Uh huh,” Kionah said, and ushered Aliyah away from the coffee house. She threw the balled-up bag into a trash disposal station and frowned as she almost missed. They stopped beneath the shade of a tree on the nearest street corner.

“What is it?” Aliyah asked. “Is it something you don’t want Maia to hear, or is it the Magician? I’m guessing it’s the Magician?”

“Hey, so I could be wrong,” Kionah said. “But I don’t think that guy’s really a Magician.”

“What?” she asked, glancing back over at the table. The Magician gave a little wave, and a shiver ran down her spine. She turned back to Kionah as the meaning of her words sank in. “Why? Because of the illusioned hole in his cloak? I thought that was strange, too.”

“Well yes, there’s that,” Kionah said, and paused, sucking on her teeth. “But he also—he just doesn’t…sound like one. Not that they all sound the same, but there is something dissimilar about the way he speaks, the words he uses. Alhena spoke to them far more often, but I did spend some time in their company.”

She hesitated, brow furrowing in concentration. “From what I see, he doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing, what to say. He gives very few details, none of them verifiable. He uses extravagant words mixed in with daily vernacular, trying too hard. Too many pauses and interjections, hesitation markers that an actual Magician would do their level best to avoid. He won’t even tell us his name. And I’ve never met a Magician who’d pass on the chance to say ‘we the Magicians’ at every blasted opportunity. He hasn’t said it once.”

“Okay,” Aliyah said, trying to focus, to not panic at the implications of this so-called Magician not having been sent by Rana. “That sounds…yes, okay, so I see where you’re coming from. But it’s just speech, right? Maybe he’s nervous. And according to him, he’s not…supposed to be here?”

“True. But he also doesn’t seem to realise that I’m the accursed spymaster, despite the fact that I’ve only changed my eyes and hairstyle. ‘You’re important to the kingdom’, he says,” she parroted, more than a tinge mockingly. “Really? If he’d said it some other way, I might have thought he was trying to imply a threat, or even an alliance, depending on the tone. But no, he really has no idea.”

“Do they, um. Do all of the Magicians know who you are?”

Kionah waved a hand dismissively, which only drew Aliyah’s attention to the bundle of not-carnations clutched in her other hand. “Certainly not all, but enough. It’s their job to prowl the court, root out dissenters. But back to my point—this ‘Rana’ friend you told me about, a fellow lowborn, yes? What was her job?”

“She was—she is a scribe.” She’d stumbled over the words there. Her stomach suddenly felt sick and leaden, swirling with an astringent bitterness that had nothing to do with the coffee.

“Lower or Higher library?”

“Lower. But her cousin—”

“Is a Magician,” Kionah finished for her. “Yes. But even so, do you really think, as a mere scribe in the Lower Library, she’d have the pulling power to accomplish something as drastic as this? You described her as very driven and resourceful—and I believe you, Aliyah, I certainly do—but skyship tickets are expensive. Especially as a passenger from Shadowsong. It’s one thing if this man happened to drop by while already on a Magician-sanctioned trip—of which there are already precious few—but he’s saying that he specifically came all the way here to ensure our ‘safety’. And not once does he bring up the fact that I was tied up in their dungeons and injured two of their own on our way out. Doesn’t that strike you as a little odd?”

“Well…” She scrambled for an answer, and found none: only fresh questions churning in her gut, mixing with new-found anxiety.

“I’m sure your friend Rana is fine,” Kionah said, her tone gentle enough for it to hurt. “But I don’t think this is the sign you were hoping for.”

“But if he’s not a Magician, then what is he?” Aliyah asked frantically. “How can he be dressed like one, if he’s not? Maia said it wasn’t an illusion, and…he couldn’t have picked up the robes from the laundry bin. I worked in the sewing circles—it’s not that simple, it doesn’t work like that, with highborn clothes. They’re all catalogued, or something.”

Kionah frowned. “Perhaps a real Magician lent it to him. That makes sense—an old set, what with the hole in the back. He must be court-affiliated. But he’s not a real Magician, I’m fairly sure. I should have spotted it sooner, but my head still feels as if it’s being used as a bloody set of drums.”

Aliyah clenched her fists, not daring to glance back at the coffee house table. “Okay, fine, I agree. He’s a fake Magician, even if he did save us from the faeries. What do we do now?”

“We run, I suppose. This pretender-Magician is either being maneuvered by a real Magician at the court, with their own independent, unfathomable agenda, or he is being used as a tool of the Magicians as a whole, which is worse, because that means they’re trying to lure me—or you, or both of us—back. Perhaps that is why he showed up when he did. Hmm.”

“What? But—so we go, and just leave him there with Maia?”

“It’s not Maia he’s after.” Kionah snorted. “I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

“They can both see us,” Aliyah pointed out. “They’re right over there. If we run, I think they’ll notice quite quickly.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to run fast.”

She eyed Kionah’s slouching stance, the squinting of her eyes against the light. “How are you feeling? I think you’re concussed.”

“Feeling pretty bad,” Kionah admitted. “But I’ve had worse. I think it’s more dangerous to stay.”

Aliyah fought the urge to turn around and look. “So you want to run, but where to?”

“Hmm. Normally, I would say Shasta’s, but…”

“But…?” Aliyah asked warily.

“But that’s a long way to run and I have a feeling you won’t like that. Also, if you refuse the hospitality of more…unlawful, persons, then that limits our options. Ideally, we’d be near people who can defend us, and I don’t know any amenable, clean-cut citizens who possess such skill-sets. You still have the tracker-mark on you, which also makes the faeries a problem. At least, until Luxon finishes your order.”

“I…” she said, trailing off. She thought of the false Magician and felt a familiar twist of anxiety in her stomach. “I can deal with staying at Shasta’s if he keeps his magic weaponry away. And if he doesn’t try to employ me.”

Kionah eyed her warily. “I do have another contact who could be suitable—and he’s nearer. You can conceal your abilities. Better yet, he probably won’t care about swaying you to his side so long as I pay him for our stay. The only issue is that you might like him even less than Shasta.”

“He’s not a murderer or anything like that, right?” she asked hastily.

“No. He does sell enchanted weapons on the side—mostly legally. Or, we could go to my old fence like I was planning to, though a chop shop has much less by way of protection. Choose quickly. I hate to push, but we’ve been talking for far too long.”

She hesitated, thinking it over. Safety, she thought. Those faeries just tried to kill you, and that false Magician fought them off like it was nothing. If he were to try hurting us…

“The weapons merchant,” she said.

“Right on,” Kionah said, tucking her illusioned pistol back into her waistband. “The Magician’ll most probably try to chase after us, so get your spells ready. Maybe those enchanted keys, too. We’re going to try and lose him in the alleys. When I start, follow me and make sure you keep up. Ready?”

Aliyah took the keys and poured magic throughout her body, raising her heart rate and priming her muscles. She took a deep breath and nodded, pulse hammering up her throat.

“Then let’s go,” Kionah said, and took off running.

Aliyah dashed close behind. It was perhaps five or ten seconds before she heard a yell and footsteps in pursuit.

Then, a sense of something wrong: a faint coldness in the air, like being on the edge of a spell-field. A shadow whisked overhead, and the not-Magician dropped out of the sky in front of them in a billow of blue cloak.

“Where are you two going?” he asked.

His stance was ever-so-slightly bent, ready to spring—not wholly threatening, but certainly on the edge of it. Aliyah tensed, readying herself to leap past Kionah if she needed to. She had vasodilation clutched firmly in her free hand. They were in the middle of the street in broad daylight. Granted, the street was pretty empty, but he wouldn’t do anything—right?

“We’ve got places to be,” Kionah said steadily.

The Magician brought his hands up in front of himself, bandaged palms facing them. “Please, just come with me and we’ll talk.”

“No,” Aliyah said, willing her voice not to waver. “We’ve chosen to leave.”

“I can’t allow that,” he said.

There it was—the confirmation, the point of no return: he wasn’t here to help them.

She lunged and swung the nausea-keys up to his face.

The Magician moved to intercept. He closed his hand around the keys, but there was no sudden sizzle, no scent of burnt flesh—the skin of his hand glowed white with swarming runes, a spell-slip seemed to flicker into existence, and then the keys—

The keys broke.