Stained Glass Monsters (19 page)

Just before her were several people.
Captain Faille, a sword in one hand, and three others she couldn't
spare thought to recognise. Between them was the thick border of
the circle, and trailing streamers of night trapped in the shield.
Mist curled around her, lifting from the ground, and she gazed
upward as something drifted down from the sky, an insubstantial
thing drawn to her, attracted by the memory of an Azrenel's
feasting just as it would be to a sleeping and undefended
human.

"Life Stealer!" exclaimed one of the
people, and drew power. But that wasn't needed.

Unclasping her hands as she lifted them,
Rennyn held up a cat's cradle made of black ribbon, criss-crossing
lines trailing darkness. The Life Stealer, no more than a wisping
grey shape, was tangled, trapped, and Rennyn held it out toward the
shield as it writhed impotently.

"
Unaet
," she said again, pushing
the creature into a shield specifically designed to keep it out.
Light bloomed where it touched, a delicate purple haze. "
Temaru.
Arlaeth
."

Power poured through her and into
Asentyr's shield. The light spread, dancing in gem hues, racing
along the boundary of the circle, lifting into the sky. The shield
shimmered into visibility, shifting slowly from dome to a pillar of
colour rising straight from the ground all through the area it
protected. Swathes of green and red, orange and purple, thickened
the air. Around the palace and various other minor circles the
colour flared into brighter points of white, but these did not
impede the flow of her casting.

"
Senyatel
," Rennyn said, when all
the city blazed with a peacock aurora. "
Senyatel
." Revealed.
Revealed.

The Life Stealer burned into nothing and
Rennyn staggered and fell forward through a shield which no longer
resisted her. Faille managed to get an arm between her and the
ground and set her easily back on her feet as the light display
faded abruptly away, leaving only two colourful motes on Aliace
Hill. Raindrop beacons spearing the sky.

"What did you do?" asked one of her
audience, and she recognised Lieutenant Meniar, the Sentene mage
who was part of the detail to accompany her to Surclere.

"Spectacular, but–?" asked the woman. A
member of the Hand. Rennyn wondered how many others had followed
her from the palace.

"That was some kind of divination,
wasn't it?" said the last, a well-dressed young boy Rennyn didn't
recognise, his red hair dimmed by eyes brimming with amazement.

"Like calls to like," Rennyn explained.
"The only thing I could think of to counter guised Eferum-Get
roaming inside a circle."

Captain Faille's attention had been on
the two remaining motes of colour, but he looked back as Rennyn
went and sat heavily on a nearby crate. "Meniar, get a message to
Captain Illuma," he ordered. "Have squads investigate the target of
those lights. And give Lady Montjuste-Surclere your coat."

"Yessir." Meniar wasn't in uniform
either, but his coat was still large and warm and a welcome relief.
He gave her shoulders a little squeeze as he put it around her,
then retreated and began the difficult task of sending a message by
magic.

"Do you suppose that tavern serves
anything edible?" Rennyn asked, tucking her hands in her armpits in
the hope of unfreezing them. Her already healthy appetite had
become an urgent need to replace lost energy.

"I'll go look," said the boy, and after
a moment's hesitation the Hand mage followed him, for it was not
the kind of place noble youths could walk into safely.

"Will your brother be able to complete
the attunement if you cannot?" Captain Faille asked.

"Yes. Though I would prefer that he
didn't have to." Rennyn considered the man, who wasn't quite
criticising her, but who obviously thought she'd taken an
unnecessary risk casting such a massive spell. And might well feel
that permission should be gained before altering the city's main
protection. "If my Wicked Uncle comes into this city, I want to
know it. If anything comes near my brother, I want more warning
than we had today."

"How long will the divination last?"

"Anywhere between a few weeks and a few
centuries." She shrugged, and gazed at the lights of the city.
"Long enough."

Her stomach hurt. Too convinced by her
spell that she, like the Eferum-Get, was a bottomless void, an
emptiness that even a thousand lives could not fill. "What prompted
the Kellian's departure from the Forest of Semarrak?" she asked,
hoping to distract herself.

"Tyrland is our home."

"That's the answer to a different
question," Rennyn pointed out, looking up at him. "Had the last of
the originals died?"

During the silence which followed she
could hear Lieutenant Meniar sounding out each sigil he activated,
and a gust of laughter from the tavern. It was the first time she'd
asked something that it seemed Faille might not answer and she
studied his profile as best she could when he blended so well into
the night. Despite obliging with answers, this man was as far from
the obedient ciphers of the originals as it was possible to be.
Grim courtesy could not mask a sheerly incisive mind, and a
tendency not to express his opinions did not leave her in any doubt
that he had them. He weighed every word she spoke, and judged
whether she deserved any response.

"Nine of the Ten remain."

Remain? He meant they were still alive?
Rennyn stared at him. The original golems would have been
long-lived, true, but she would not have expected their life-span
to be more than one hundred and fifty or perhaps two hundred
years.

"One was killed in battle," Captain
Faille continued. "The rest...grew weary. To wake, to move, to do
more than subsist, became beyond their strength. But they do not
die."

Words failed her, and she shook her head
in futile denial. Still alive? Unable to die? But she saw what was
behind this. She understood the rules which bound the Kellian
golems' existence, and could see a reason. Unless they were killed
through violence they would not die.

They hadn't been given permission.

Stupid, stuck-up, full of himself,
know-it-all, pampered...

Kendall ran out of new things to call
Sebastian Montjuste-Surclere and started the list over, stomping a
foot in time to each word. What business was it of his to look down
on her?
She
hadn't been learning magic since she could
crawl.

Well, enough was enough. Sebastian could
admire himself as much as he liked. The idiots at the Arkathan
could gossip and nudge and whisper and smirk at each other. Kendall
didn't need to hang around for that. She had money enough to find a
place to stay, and smarts enough to find a job. She'd practice
holding pebbles in the meantime, and if it ever looked like she
might be able to do more she'd find a teacher. There were plenty of
mages outside the Houses of Magic. Better mages.

At least, now that she'd decided to
leave, she would be able to see the city. Who would have thought
she'd have spent all this time in Asentyr and not even looked
around? It was a stupid rule that students of the Arkathan couldn't
leave the Houses of Magic without permission, and Kendall felt as
if she was kicking off chains as she marched down Aliace Hill.

Someone walking the other way stopped
and turned around, following after her. Busybody. Kendall shot them
a withering glare, which didn't have much effect on Rennyn
Montjuste-Surclere. The woman only seemed entertained by Kendall's
expression.

"Been arguing with Seb?" she asked,
unexpectedly perceptive.

"No!" Kendall increased her pace, but
found her elbow taken in a firm grip.

"Let's go eat something. There's a
nice-looking teashop down here."

"Don't you have a kingdom to save?"

"Tea first, then kingdom."

Kendall debated pulling free. "Look,
Lady Mon-"

"Oh, call me Rennyn. I don't have a
title and we'll dump the stupid surname as soon as this is over.
Rennyn Claire, no more complicated than that."

"Then why introduce yourself as
Montjuste-Surclere?"

"Because it's simpler right now.
Expediency excuses many sins."

Her voice was so bitter that Kendall had
to stare, and she was curious enough to follow meekly into a
tea-shop full of snotty types who were even less impressed with
Kendall than the lot up at the palace. Without the all-concealing
blue and black uniform smock, her worn dress marked her as exactly
what she was.

"Spiced tea for two and a selection of
cakes, please," Rennyn Claire ordered, tucking her bags under the
table and gesturing for Kendall to do the same. "So you bored of
the Arkathan?"

"They weren't teaching me anything."

"Are they teaching anyone anything much
at the moment? I understood the Arkathan teachers were covering the
Hand's duties, while the Hand mages are off helping the Sentene,
who are hopelessly overstretched. They can barely keep up with the
natural breaches, let alone the larger ones."

"I know all that," Kendall said,
crossly. "I'm not asking them to stop or anything. I'm just putting
my own time to better use."

"Having argued with Seb."

"I haven't argued with
anyone
."

"Bah. What did he say to you that's
annoyed you then?"

"You're as bad as he is – you always
think you're right."

"That's because I usually am." Rennyn
Claire smiled provocatively, then sat back as the snooty ladies
filled their table with tea things and cakes. "So what is he wrong
about?"

"This has nothing to do with your
brother."

"If you say so. Have a cake."

It was early for lunch, so Kendall
picked at a piece of seedcake, and watched Rennyn Claire put away
enough for four. The woman ate with a straightforward enjoyment of
all things sweet and sticky, her attention on the people walking
past outside. Every time Kendall saw her the circles under her eyes
were darker, but except for that brief remark about expediency she
acted as calm as she had that day in Finton. Almost as insufferable
as her brother.

"Do you think if you just sit there
eating I'll suddenly decide to tell you?"

"I think that the more times I ask the
same question, the less likely you are to answer. You're the one
who has to decide whether it costs you anything to tell me."

In other words, she was curious but she
didn't really care. And Kendall had to admit there was nothing
stopping her from answering the question.

"...he called me a would-be rote
mage."

"What, to your face? Seb's manners are
slipping. Why does it matter what kind of mage Seb thinks you'll
make?"

Kendall groped for words. "It's what he
thinks matters. He acts like the world is full of two kinds of
people: 'real' mages and everyone unimportant."

Rennyn laughed. "Not so bad as that. But
– Seb is like a musician in a world of the tone-deaf. He loves
magic and adores talking about it, and if people can't tell one
note from the other they won't understand what he's saying. Does it
matter to you what kind of mage you become?"

"A well-paid one." Kendall wasn't going
to pretend otherwise. "Anything that will earn more money than I
would selling vegetables and running errands."

"How much more? A deviser, one with the
depth of understanding to do more than just repeat back spells
they've learned, is ten times more valuable than any rote
mage."

"Maybe. But I'm not going to suddenly be
this magic-is-my-life person. I'll try and get good at it, but I'm
not going to act like it's the only thing in the world worth
doing."

"Fair enough, though treating magic as a
profession doesn't prevent you from becoming a deviser – or being a
'real' mage if you want to call it that. The thing I don't
understand is how leaving all the free food and accommodation
helps."

"It lets me get some peace and quiet.
The Arkathan is full of idiots who want me to tell them everything
about you two, and won't leave me alone when I won't."

"So tell them. I doubt there's anything
that most of them don't know already."

"I'm not there for their benefit."

"Hah." Rennyn drained her teacup and
dropped some money on the table. "If nothing else, being able to
stand your ground will come in useful when you're casting. How
about this – for the next five or so days I get to be dragged about
Tyrland pinpointing incursion points again. Come with me and I'll
give you some tedious lectures on magical theory. When you get back
you can decide if it's worth hanging around the Arkathan any
more."

Kendall glowered at the woman while she
worked their bags free from beneath the table, but waited until
they were outside to say anything.

"I'm not some charity case."

"Would you like me to charge you for
lessons or something? It's not going to cost me anything to talk at
you, and will pass some time for me since I don't find it at all
easy to read or write while travelling. Though I do warn you that
I'm planning to sleep most of the way to Knifecliff."

"That's where the next breach will
be?"

"Just south of it."

The idea of returning to the front row
of the drama of Tyrland's defence was a good deal less attractive
after seeing one of the Night Roamers far too close up. Kendall
would never forget that crab-thing's fleshy mouth. But still, to be
able to witness one of the battles which would shape the whole
kingdom's future: it was definitely tempting. And she had to admit
that the Montj– the Claires at least acted like they knew more
about magic than everyone else put together.

"They'll start to fret if I don't show
up soon," Rennyn said, starting back down the street. "Come if
you're coming."