The Phoenix Unchained (9 page)

If he had the Magegift, he was. If he didn’t, he wasn’t. He didn’t really feel like experimenting with any more magic spells to find out for sure. He kept dreaming about the Fire Woman almost every night, and despite the fact that it was essentially the same dream over and over, it was still as awful every single time. All he’d been able to find out from reading just about every book
on the High Magick that the Great Library held was that he’d done nearly everything wrong to cast his spell—and that the High Mages didn’t have dreams and visions. Or if they did, they didn’t discuss them in the books available to him.

He was thinking of cutting his afternoon classes—of course it wasn’t really cutting when you went to your teachers and asked to be excused, and he really
was
working on a special project of his own—when a voice behind him stopped him.

“Tiercel! Tyr! Wait up!”

HARRIER hadn’t seen his friend since that day on the docks when Tyr had come to him with some wild story about suddenly having magic powers. He’d been so mad that day that he’d wanted to shake him. Tiercel was moonturns away from even having to go off to University, but Harrier had to be an adult
now
. His mornings were still spent in Normal School, but every afternoon was spent at the Port, where his Apprenticeship had informally begun. If he played around during work hours, there were plenty of watchers ready to report that fact to his Da, who wouldn’t be at all pleased to hear it.

So maybe he’d been a little more abrupt than a friend ought to have been. He’d expected to see Tiercel again that night, or at least next evening, because when Tyr got a hold of an idea—or the other way around—he just didn’t give up on it. But Tyr didn’t come, and then it was Light-Day and he
still
hadn’t come to see Harrier, so Harrier had gone to the Rolfort townhouse when he figured the Rolforts would be back from Temple only to hear that Tiercel had stayed late to talk to his Preceptor. And since Harrier wasn’t going to hang around like a lovesick maiden, he’d left.

He’d stopped by a couple of times after that—making time out
of his workday, knowing he’d have to work extra late to make up for it—only to be told that Tiercel was down at the Great Library, studying. Harrier had known Tiercel all his life, and while Tyr found the Great Library fascinating, he didn’t find it
that
fascinating. He’d figured his friend was avoiding him, ashamed of having been an idiot, and figured Tiercel would come and see him when he was good and ready. But one morning Harrier had been in the middle of his schoolwork and realized it had been an entire moonturn since he’d seen Tiercel. He hadn’t gotten so much as a note of explanation. And he’d realized he had to go find out why.

The Preparatory School was in the same district as the Normal School, so his detour wouldn’t make him
too
late getting home. The more Harrier turned matters over in his head, the more he decided he was worried. Tiercel was exactly like one of the little ratting-dogs they kept down at the docks to go after vermin. Once he got an idea in his head, he just didn’t let go of it. And while he might have gone off on this whole magic thing by himself—there were many interests the two boys didn’t share—the thing he
wouldn’t
have done was shut Harrier completely out of his life without a single word. Not even if their families were fighting. Which they weren’t. There must be something wrong.

When Tiercel turned around in response to his shout of greeting Harrier got the biggest shock of his life. He’d suggested, that day in the shed on the docks, that Tiercel was just having one of the usual early spring fevers. If this was a sample of it, maybe his father should consider closing the Port, because Tiercel looked . . . ill. His eyes were sunken, and had deep shadows under them, as if he hadn’t slept well for sennights. If he hadn’t been sick before, he was now. Even Harrier could see that.

“What is wrong with you?” he blurted out.

“You didn’t believe me the last time I told you,” Tiercel said.

Oh. Still thinking about magic, then. If he’d sounded smug, or proud, or anything to indicate that this High Magick he thought
he had was a wonderful secret that set him above everyone else, Harrier wouldn’t have believed him now, or even listened. But Tiercel just sounded tired and more than a little confused.

“Tell me again.”

The two boys sat on a stone bench in the corner of the Quadrangle, and Tiercel told Harrier everything that had happened to him in the past moonturn.

“And everybody—my Tutor, my Preceptor, the Healer—says they’re just dreams. And that they’ll go away by themselves.”

“But you don’t think so,” Harrier guessed shrewdly.

“Oh, Light, Har, I
hope
they go away! But if you’d had even one of them, you’d know they aren’t just dreams. Somehow they’re true—a kind of truth, anyway. And what if . . . they were supposed to warn somebody of something, and I got the warning instead? Like a message delivered to the wrong house?”

“It doesn’t seem really efficient,” Harrier said consideringly. “If there’s a problem, wouldn’t it make more sense to have something happen in a Light-shrine? Or send a vision to all the Light Priests at once?”

“I don’t know,” Tiercel said. He sounded very depressed.

“Well, okay. So what are we going to do about it? You can’t spend the rest of your life not eating or sleeping. Your parents are going to notice, soon, if they haven’t already.”

“Oh, they’ve noticed. Mama has a whole row of bottles from the Healer that she doses me with,” Tiercel said dolefully. “Some of them help. Just not very well, or for very long.”

“Well, you can’t keep taking that stuff. It turns your teeth funny colors. So? We’re going to do something, right?”

“You want to help?” Tiercel asked doubtfully.

“Tyr, have I
ever
let you go off on an adventure by yourself since you learned to walk? Doesn’t matter what it is this time. I’m in. And it seems to me that if you got yourself into all this trouble with magic, you’re going to need a Mage to get you out of it.”

“You mean a Wildmage?” Tiercel said doubtfully.

Harrier snorted rudely. “Of
course
a Wildmage! It’s not like we’re going to turn over a rock and find one of your nonexistent High Mages under it, is it?”

“But . . . where are we going to find one?” Tiercel asked.

Harrier shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we go look until we find one. We could start in Sentarshadeen. There was one there once, wasn’t there?”

“I guess,” Tiercel said dubiously. “But that was when I was a baby, and for all I know, he made a special trip to the Temple there. I don’t know much about Wildmages, but I do know that they don’t stay in one place for long.”

“Well, we can go and look, can’t we?” Harrier said reasonably. “School will be over in a fortnight for both of us. Why don’t you see if your family will let you go on a hiking trip with me? Fresh air and exercise; I bet the Healers will say it’s just what you need. We’ll tell them we’re going to Sentarshadeen—and we will be, so you won’t even be lying. I’m sure my Da will let me go away. Sort of a farewell trip, you know, because, well, we won’t see much of each other after this summer. I’ll make all the arrangements. Don’t worry, Tyr. Maybe a nice long rest is just what you need to stop having these dreams.”

Tiercel stared at him for a long moment, his blue eyes burning feverishly. Harrier had always thought of his friend as being so much younger than he was—in more than the near-year that separated them in age—but just now he looked so much older.

“You don’t really believe me, do you?” Tiercel asked sadly. “About the visions?”

Harrier really didn’t. It was just too impossible. And he hated to hurt Tiercel’s feelings, especially now. Still, he owed his friend the truth.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Harrier answered with a heavy
sigh. “But I know that
you
believe it and that’s good enough for me. Besides, you
are
sick, and the Healers aren’t helping, and you
were
fooling with magic. So you should see a Wildmage.”

Tiercel snorted with laughter despite himself. “You make more sense than anyone else I’ve talked to! You’re a good friend, Harrier Gillain.”

“Nobody else would be crazy enough to put up with you,” Harrier answered matter-of-factly.

THE next fortnight was a busy one. To Tiercel’s surprise, both their sets of parents willingly gave permission for the vacation trip, a moonturn’s jaunt up to Sentarshadeen and back. Tiercel was pretty sure that his parents hoped that the country air and change of scene would put an end to his mysterious “problems,” but that hardly explained how Harrier got permission to go wandering off for an entire moonturn just when he was supposed to start working at the Port full time.

Harrier wouldn’t explain, either. He just looked cheerful and mysterious and stubborn, and said his Da didn’t need him underfoot
that
badly. Of course Harrier hadn’t told his parents the real reason he was going—to find a Wildmage because Tiercel had been dabbling in magic—and neither had Tiercel. If this didn’t work out, though, he supposed he was going to have to.

So Tiercel really hoped it did.

There were a great many preparations to make for a journey of that length. Of course there would be inns all along the way—the Delfier Highway was broad and well-traveled, and they could be sure of finding somewhere to stay at every stop—but they were taking bedrolls and cooking equipment just in case, and they needed proper clothing for the journey, and supplies.

And, apparently, mules.

Harrier took care of most of that. When cargo came into the Port, it had to go somewhere, and as often as not it was on to one of the other Nine Cities by muletrain or cargo wagon. While Harrier wasn’t a Cargomaster himself, nor even a Cargomaster’s Apprentice, he certainly knew where to go to get advice on planning a journey. All Tiercel had to do was get his own items together and show up on his own doorstep at the designated time.

Early.

Harrier had warned Tiercel the night before that he’d be on his doorstep four chimes after First Dawn Bells. Henmon—who, as far as Tiercel had ever determined, never slept anyway—roused him from his nice warm bed when First Dawn Bells was still ringing, and he stumbled through his morning preparations half-asleep. Fortunately, the previous night had been one without the dream.

To his great surprise, his mother and father were awake to see him off. His mother hugged and kissed him good-bye, and—to his slight embarrassment—his father did the same, though Tiercel felt he was really a bit old for that. Just as he was about to go out the door, his father pressed a pouch into his hand. He could feel the shapes of coins in it: small demi-suns, the larger silver unicorns, and to his shock, even something that must be an actual Golden Sun. An enormous amount of money!

“But—You know—” he stammered. He’d already arranged for the funds for his journey, and the coins were tucked safely away in his belt.

“I know,” his father said, smiling. “But things do come up on the road, you know, Tiercel. And it’s always best to be prepared for any problem that money can solve. You don’t need to spend it, you know. But if you have to . . . it’s there.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tiercel said, tucking the second coin-pouch beside the first. “I’ll try not to get into trouble.”
Any more trouble than I’m already in
.

He turned away from his parents. Henmon opened the door and handed him his traveling bag. He slung it over his shoulder and walked quickly down the steps.