The Gantean (Tales of Blood & Light Book 1) (11 page)

I pointed the dagger at the man. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m leaving now.”

The man froze—I hardly expected him to; I hadn’t thought he’d find my small weapon intimidating. I’d seen what Lethemian mages could do with their powerful stones, and yet he stared at my dagger as though it held the power of life or death over him.

“By the gods,” he whispered. “Where—what—
where did you get that knife
?”

I blinked down at the women’s knife. It unfurled a magical warmth in tingling bursts not unlike that which assaulted me when I danced.

Before I could show my hesitation, Miki lunged between the mage and me, shoving the man from the room. I had thought, when I held Miki, that his master had starved him. His bones had felt so prominent beneath his clothes, his arms so thin. Yet he hit the mage like a cannonball, forcing him against the stairs, where he fell.

The mage dropped his black stone; it rolled across the hall and under the gap beneath a door.

Miki scrambled up over the shocked mage’s shoulders, balancing on the stairs above. The Gantean boy caught the mage’s golden hair in a fist and brought his knife’s point against his neck. The man appeared too startled to do anything but suck air.

“Make a move,” Miki said in a Gantean-accented hiss. “And I’ll shove it in.”

No one in the room doubted his words. Amethyst whimpered and retreated towards the ajar front door. I moved with her. Miki’s black eyes followed me, and he gave a slight nod, as though he could read my intentions.

“Do you have rope?” I whispered to Amethyst.

“Rope?”

I nodded.

She stared at me.

“Please,” I added.

Casting an anxious glance at Miki and the mage in their frozen tableau on the stairs, Amethyst inched down the hall in the direction the magestone had rolled, passing that door and opening the next.

“Release me, you traitorous little shit,” the mage snarled at Miki, who ignored him and kept his eyes trained on me.

A taut silence spanned the space between Miki and me. The mage’s shallow breaths hummed, but his hands crept along the fabric of his suit, moving towards a pocket that could easily hold another magestone. He meant to magick us, of course
,
and then what trouble would arise?
I could not afford to reveal any secrets, and Miki needed help.

I leapt forward and added my women’s knife to Miki’s threat, stabbing the tip of the dagger hard enough into the mage’s hand to cut the skin. He froze. I remembered how the mage Laith had flourished his hands so precisely over Ghilene after the sorceress’s attack; a mage, like a Gantean, valued his hands as tools. I had him by his weak spot. My blade kept his hand pinned to his thigh. If he had another magestone in his pocket, he wouldn’t retrieve it on my watch.

The mage jerked. Miki’s switchblade pricked his neck, leaving a single gem of blood.

“Fucking hells!” The mage again tried to break free. I leaned all my weight on my knife, feeling the rough give of sinews beneath the blade. Not so different, a man’s flesh, from any other animal’s.

The man roared, “You fucking bitch!”

I lifted my gaze and met his. Hatred, dismay, and horror spun in angry circles in his green eyes. “That’s my casting hand!”

“Don’t move,” I cautioned him, “and I won’t press any harder.”

“Oh!”

I turned my head to find Amethyst hovering on the first stair, holding out a coiled rope. I snatched the rope, leaving the dagger in the mage’s hand, knowing Miki would manage him. My hands flew, shaping the rope into the loose knot I wanted.

“Turn around,” I told the mage.

“Fuck you,” he replied.

Miki cut more drops of blood into the man’s neck. Amethyst covered her mouth. The mage turned.

When I yanked my knife from his hand, the mage hissed and spasmed in pain. He tried to rise, but Miki clung to his back and sawed deeper on his neck. Blood oozed onto the lapels of his fine coat.

“Hands behind your back,” I commanded.

This time the mage obeyed without resistance—perhaps the blade in his neck had cowed him. I wound my partially knotted rope around his arms and lashed it rapidly around the bannisters of the stairs, tying him fast with knots he would not break.

“I’ll find you and kill you; don’t think I won’t,” the mage threatened.

We ignored him.

“What are you
doing
?” moaned Amethyst, wringing her hands.

Neither Miki nor I answered. As soon as I fixed the last knot, Miki hopped from his perch above the mage, flicked his knife closed, and jerked his head at the open front door.

I didn’t need to be told; I dashed after him.

A surprisingly strong arm halted me. Amethyst held me back. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

I tried to fling her off unsuccessfully.

“My father!” she cried. “If he finds—a—a client here trussed up like this on my watch, he’ll murder me. If I untie Mr. Danei, he’s likely to murder me, too.”

“Are you coming or not?” hissed Miki from behind us.

Amethyst gripped my arm even harder. I hesitated only half a breath before I caught her wrist and pulled. “Come with us,” I said. No other solution struck me.

“
Y
ou
fucking little bastards
!” The mage’s shout reverberated behind us, fading quickly into the distance. The rustle of Amethyst’s skirts blended with the shuffle of our footsteps. Ahead of us, Miki darted into an alley. We passed the entrance to the underground tunnels that Lymbok and I had emerged from less than an hour ago. I hurried to catch Miki, wondering if he knew about the network beneath the streets. Miki ran faster, unhindered by cumbersome skirts and fancy shoes that wanted to slip from feet.

Beneath the moonlight I could see that Miki wore ragged attire with a world’s worth of dirt clinging to it. He hadn’t been well cared for; the arms sticking from his frayed sleeves were as bony as I had imagined. His strength came from will more than body.

Amethyst heaved behind me. I slowed, though Miki didn’t, and turned to check on her. She paused, doubled over, to gulp air.

“We have to keep moving,” I said over my shoulder.

“Where are we going?” she expelled.

Miki noticed we had stopped. He returned to us. “I know a place.”

Amethyst frowned. “If we keep going down this road we’ll end up at the western guard tower. That’s not a good idea.”

“Whaddid you numbskulls do?” a voice surprised us from above.

Lymbok crawled down the brick wall that lined our alley, landing lightly on his feet and putting his hands on his hips. “What happened with Danei?”

“We left him tied to the bannister,” Amethyst explained. She broke into unlikely giggles. “Oh, gods. His face! He was so shocked.”

“He’s an ass,” Lymbok added. “But now he’s an angry ass. We gotta hide somewhere real good. He’s got magic, and he’s gonna try to find us as soon as he’s untangled.”

“You know a good place?” Miki demanded, all business.

“Sure.” Lymbok grinned. “I got plenty of hideys down here. Whaddaya think I came an’ found you for? C’mon.”

Lymbok’s unexpected kindness served as glue to bind the rest of us together. Our trust was sudden, immediate, and essential, as so often happened in dire circumstances.

We followed Lymbok on another intricate route through the Bottom City’s alleys. He clearly knew the place better than any of us, taking turns at a run, slipping into narrow passages between buildings, climbing walls, and making use of empty lots as shortcuts between streets.

Finally he slowed behind a leaning building where he lifted a trap door in the ground. It opened into another staircase. I took a deep breath and went down, though again the darkness pressed on me.

As if he could sense my distress, Miki slipped a palm into mine and squeezed, guiding me into Lymbok’s lair. Relief flooded me. I had an Iksraqtaq friend, even if he was just a little boy.

Lymbok lit a candle to ease the darkness. His hiding place was no larger than a
ballroom alcove, but spacious enough for all of us to stretch our legs and recline against the brick wall. Lymbok produced a blanket and a pillow, which he handed to Amethyst like a gallant.

“Why’d you tie Danei to the bannister?” he asked.

“He tried to attack Leila,” Miki supplied. Of the four of us, his face looked the grimmest.

“Who’re you again?” Lymbok asked.

“Miki.”

“Danei’s slave, his spoon boy, right? I seen you with him at the den before.”

“You know my master?” Miki asked warily.

Lymbok shrugged. “Danei’s hired me to do some smithin’ in the High City more’n once. This was the hardest job though.” He threw the little magestone he’d told me he’d nicked into the air and caught it again in his palm.

“Mages like my father’s place,” Amethyst added. “He gives them a discount.”

“Stingy bastard, that Danei,” Lymbok said. “He agreed to pay me ten gold for the stone, but then he said only five when I arrived with it. I said, no, cuz I ain’t a fool. He wasn’t too happy ‘bout that. I cut it and ran. I don’t like ‘em that say one thing at first and then change it all up on you after the job is done. ‘Specially on a job like this. Sneakin’ around the Palace, stealin’ from a fancy nob magitrix. That’s worth ten jhass or more. But Danei’s gonna be pissed as a caged cat. He wanted the stone, bad.”

“Amassis above,” filled in Amethyst. “He’s going to be furious.”

“I better do some recon tonight,” said Lymbok. “Get out on the streets and find out what’s going on, who he’s got searchin’ and all.”

“He’s injured,” Miki said. “Leila stuck a blade in his hand.” Not to mention Miki had slashed at the man’s throat.

Lymbok whistled. “You stuck a knife in a mage’s hand? You either stupid crazy or all brilliant, I dunno which. He’s gonna be more’n pissed. But he might not be able to use his magic if his hand’s hurt bad enough—that’s a real stroke of luck.

“You all rest up here,” Lymbok advised. “I’m gonna hit the streets and listen in on the rumors, find out if Danei’s on our tail or givin’ up. Whatever you do, don’t leave here. This hole’s safe. No one knows about it but me.”

After Lymbok had departed for the Bottom City streets, Miki, Amethyst, and I tried to rest, unsuccessfully.

Amethyst had grown paler and paler—the initial shock of our flight was wearing off, and I saw her fear writ plainly across her face.

“Perhaps once Danei has left your place you can just go back,” I suggested, feeling guilty for dragging her into our mess.

“I can’t go back. I couldn’t face my father after tonight. I—the truth is—I don’t want to go back. I hated it there—all those addicts, they have no limits when they’re high. No. I’m glad to be gone. I just wish—well, I’d been planning an escape for ages. I never imagined it would go like this.” She settled into the wall and closed her eyes.

Miki watched her. We remained silent for several long moments. He heard the same change in Amethyst’s breathing—the deepening that signaled sleep—and crept closer to me, settling his head into my lap like a child of the tiguat. He was a little old for it, but I did not mind. I let my hands settle in his hair, gently untangling the mess. His locks were just long enough to braid. I unwound a few threads from my dress to tie them off and set to work. Gantean boys know to hold still for braids.

“That man, Danei—he bought you after you were taken from Gante?” I asked.

“His name isn’t really Danei, though he goes by it often out in public,” Miki replied. “He’s a mage named Alessio Rarmont. To me, he wasn’t so bad; he never struck me, he didn’t work me hard. I was his spoon-boy. I had to feed him the dragon-milk when he was too far gone to do it himself. But there were others he treated...horribly.”

I finished one row of Miki’s hair and continued on to the next. As I worked I studied Miki: a solemn little creature, with a face too old for his size.

“You’re too thin. Didn’t he feed you?”

Miki twitched. “I’m not hungry for food.”

An ominous shadow lurked within those words, but I did not press. “Did this mage who bought you mark you?” I asked, thinking with a quiet sort of dread about the Entilan magemark on my own shoulder.

Silence stretched between us, until Miki finally said, “He cut my hair and took my tormaquine.”

I nodded. I understood. I did not want to mention the liability of my own mark, either, lest it cause the others to rue my presence. “How were you taken?” I asked.

“I lived west of the Kaluq lands. I’d gone there to learn my meditation with the old master there, Orasuq.”

My hands paused in their work. I had known immediately that Miki came from the Kaluq clan—I could tell by the colors of his hair and his dark eye. If he had trained with Orasuq, it meant he had learned to shape blackstone. No small talent, that. It meant he had strong magic. It also meant he’d been a slave for years. The Kaluq clan had been thoroughly decimated for at least five years.

“They killed my master Orasuq, but the raiders took my tiguat-sister and me alive. I got sold in Engashta to Rarmont.”

Miki’s tragedy struck me as worse because of the special training that had been taken from him. Ganteans valued blackstone knappers—they were the only ones with magic and craft enough to shape ulio blades.

I finished the last braid and patted his head. “There. Now you look Iksraqtaq again.” Miki smiled and closed his eyes. I did the same.

M
oonlight filtered
into Lymbok’s secret room through the barred hole that opened onto the street like a storm drain. Both Miki and Amethyst remained sleeping. Lymbok had not yet returned from his mission.

My thoughts turned towards the situation I had fled at the Palace. In the mad rush through the underground tunnels, the shock of finding Miki, and then fighting the mage at the dragon-milk den, I’d had no time to consider the predicament that had made me run in the first place. Glad to have the safety of Lymbok’s hiding place, I pondered what Costas had told me—that his father believed me involved in the Brokering attack or scheming to enchant Costas. I had only stopped the sorceress—the Cedna, if Laith Amar was to be believed—out of raw instinct. I shuddered, recalling the sucking void of her bloodlight with that cold diamond in its center. She had used strange magic, but it had been recognizably Gantean. She had used a blackstone ulio and paid for her spells in blood.

I gasped, realizing that I had tucked that very weapon into the secret pocket of my dress after cutting the bloodcord between Ghilene and Malvyna Entila. I pulled the ulio out and dropped Costas’s knife from my sleeve. I held the two blades, one in each hand, and weighed them against each other as Costas’s words ran through my mind:
I’ll take care of you, but you have to do as I say. The Pavilions.

Costas expected me to meet his men in the High City, at the Pavilions he’d described. The hilt of the women’s knife, cast gold around the blue stone, felt far heavier than the light ulio made of blackstone and bone. I glanced at sleeping Miki with his fresh braids in neat rows across his head. Freckles splashed his tanned cheeks, and a vague smile hovered around his mouth as he rested.

I squeezed the Lethemian knife in my hand. The ung-aneraq that connected me to Costas remained a palpable thing, like a tightly laced bodice across my chest. He offered both safety and security—or so he promised.

I slid the dagger he had given me back into its holster on my arm and kept the ulio in hand. I would not go to the Pavilions, no matter how much Costas tempted me. I would stay with Miki. We needed each other. I would not yet cut the ung-aneraq, however. I might need it to get back to Costas to find my necklace. Leaving without recovering the anbuaq distressed me, but at least I’d told Costas I’d needed my necklace. I could only hope he’d find it and hold it for me—and with that cord still binding us, he might be motivated to do so. Besides, I couldn’t cut the ung-aneraq. I felt too shaky and unresolved to try even the slightest magic.

“Psst. Psst. Anyone awake in there?” Lymbok’s tanned face came into view through the barred storm drain. He caught my eye. “Open up.”

I opened the trap door, and he scrambled down the steep steps, lighting a candle from his pocket as he settled beside Amethyst. She opened her eyes sleepily.

“What did you learn?” I turned, surprised to find Miki alert.

Lymbok scowled. “Whole High City’s up in a roar ‘bout some attack on the Palace last night at the Brokering party. There’s Galatien Guards patrolling the city, High and Bottom, lookin’ for some Gantean sorceress.”

I shifted uncomfortably.

“Gantean sorceress?” Miki echoed in surprise.

“Yep. They say she attacked at the Brokering party, made a real big mess, and caused some nob lady to disappear right out o’ thin air. Then she disappeared herself. Whole city’s searching for her. They say she was some nob lady’s handmaiden—young woman, maybe sixteen winters, black hair, blue eyes.” He glared at me.

“Leila?” Miki whispered.

“It wasn’t me!” I cried. “I saw the whole attack. It wasn’t me! I only tried to stop her! They blamed me but—”

“Wish you woulda told me straight out,” Lymbok interrupted, clearly annoyed. “I ain’t no snitch but it woulda been nice to know I was helpin’ a wanted criminal, not just some runaway slave.”

“But that’s really all I am. I didn’t do what they accuse me of!”

“Don’t really matter what’s true,” Lymbok said. “What matters is what they believe. Twenty-five gold jhass—that’s what they’re offerin’ for you—would tempt anyone.”

Miki flowed over my legs like silent water to tackle Lymbok and pin him to the rough ground. “If you dare.” He used his legs to control the other boy’s struggles to escape. “If you dare try for that reward, I’ll stick my knife in you.”

“What’s wrong with you!” cried Lymbok, shoving unsuccessfully at Miki. “I ain’t doing nothing! I said I weren’t no snitch. Don’t last long as a fingersmith in Galantia if y’are. Get. Off. Me!”

Miki didn’t budge.

“I don’t understand, Lym,” Amethyst ventured. “I thought you were trying to find out what happened with Mr. Danei?”

Both boys looked up at her.

“Don’t fight,” she urged. “We all have things we’re running from. None of us are perfectly innocent.”

Miki released his hold on Lymbok and subsided onto the floor beside me. Lymbok reached into his costume tunic, pulled out a tortoise-shell comb, and smoothed it through his mussed hair. “Danei ain’t his name, turns out. He’s Alessio Rarmont, and he’s a House Galatien mage, and he’s pretty pissed at us all. Ain’t nobody sayin’ nothing about the stone I stole though. At least, nothing about Rarmont and the stone. Plenty being said about how it was stolen from Lady Sho-mar Ricknagel. But Rarmont’s playin’ tight about his role in it. That only makes things worse—he wants to find me, real bad. And they’re gonna be puttin’ heat on all the fingersmiths in the High City to try an’ figgur who did the job. So, I’m in hot water, too.” Lymbok grinned shakily. “Best thing we could do is get us all outta the city as soon as possible, but how we gonna get out is a whole ‘nother question.”

“There are only two ways out of the city,” Amethyst said. “Out the gates or over the Bottom City walls. Everyone knows that.”

Lymbok smirked. “Well, I know more’n everyone, I guess, ‘cause I know a way out through the Tunnels. 'Cept we gotta get back down into the Tunnels, and that ain’t gonna be easy. When I say the streets are crawlin’ with Guards, I mean it.”