V ALETTA, M ARAH DECIDED, HADN’T CHANGED A bit.
She felt oddly unsure of herself as she led the way down the street, passing crowds of revolutionaries and dissidents, residents and migrants, broadsheet sellers and criminals and ladies of the night and so many other things she’d missed when she was at the tower. They passed food stalls, the scent of cooked meat wafting through the air, and booksellers offering forbidden tomes, from blue books with lurid covers to books and pamphlets attacking the king, the royal family, the aristocracy and monarchy in general. She was tempted to pick up a book entitled The Prince’s Crimes Unmasked , although she had some doubts about its accuracy. The subtitle insisted it was talking about Prince Jeremy, but the picture on the front looked nothing like the prince. It was hard to believe the text was accurate considering that the picture wasn’t.
The thought made her smile as they kept walking, passing more crowds and speechmakers either raising the rabble or boring them. Valetta only really came to life at night, she recalled, when the residents got home from work and the guards knew better than to show their faces. Music echoed through the air as they passed a bar, the crowd drinking and singing a song everyone knew even though it was banned right across the kingdom. Marah had seen a man whipped, in Lubbock, for daring to sing the words too close to a company manager. Here… it was sung freely. No one dared object.
She felt her heart twist as she spotted the street children, one hand dropping automatically to her moneybag. The street kids needed to steal to survive, to keep their hidden communities alive…she knew, all too well, that far too many of the young men drifted into the gangs and the women into prostitution, if only because there were no better options. A surge of naked hatred ran through her as she spotted an aristo hurrying out of the Coalsack, his face half-hidden under a masking charm… he was here, no doubt, for pleasures denied even to one of his station. She had to fight to keep her magic from lashing out, from blasting the man with a fireball. She hoped he’d left it too late to get out safely. Most young aristo men liked bragging of roguish deals in the Coalsack, in hopes of drawing attention from aristo women, but they tended to have the sense to clear out well before dark. The man she’d spotted… hadn’t.
The thought darkened her mood as she led the way into the alleyway, heading towards the hidden door. Virgil had shown her how to get in and out without being spotted, pointing out how the building was carefully designed to hide the entrance from casual view, but she wasn’t sure the entrance would be there any longer. Virgil might have a habit of pretending to act like a heedless hero, rushing in bravely where a smarter person might hesitate long enough to figure out what was going on, yet – in hindsight – it was clear he was perfectly capable of coldly calculating the odds and acting accordingly. She wondered, not for the first time, just how many of his heroic acts had been planned, perhaps even faked. It was easy to spread rumors, secure in the knowledge they’d grow in the telling. She’d done it herself.
She stopped outside the brick wall and forced herself to squint. The door was there, just… her eyes hurt as she tried to get them to focus on the entrance. It had never been easy to see and yet, it had never been quite so hard. Emily stepped up beside her, reaching out gingerly with her magic. Marah could feel her spells gliding forward, inserting themselves into the web of hidden charms Virgil had crafted to hide his lair. It was a reminder she had a very long way to go before she could call herself a trained magician.
“Interesting,” Emily said. “Two-thirds of the spells are designed as simple obscurification and redirection charms, capable of hiding the existence of the entire house. They’re so insidious that anyone who realizes the charms are there will forget it, the moment they walk away. Quite clever, in a way. He’s hidden an entire house in plain sight.”
Marah frowned. “And the guards said they’d searched it.”
“They may have searched the wrong house,” Emily said. “Or they may have come to the house and walked away, convinced they’d completed their search.”
“They’re not very clever,” Marah said, more to hide her nervousness than anything else. If Virgil could do that, what couldn’t he do? Had he done something to her, when she’d first been recruited, and then made her forget it? It was a chilling thought. How could she ever be sure he hadn’t ? She didn’t know. “Can you tear it down?”
“Tearing the outer layer of charms down isn’t a problem,” Emily said, absently. “The problem is making sure they’re not connected to anything more dangerous first .”
Marah bit her lip, forcing herself to watch and wait as Emily kept poking at the charms. Virgil had taught her the basics of thievery, pointing out that speed was of the essence. Every moment spent trying to unlock a door was a moment one could be caught, or forced to flee with nothing to show for it. But then, most common thieves wouldn’t spot the entrance. The ones that did would realize the house belonged to a magician and keep their distance. It felt like hours before the charms finally wavered, revealing the door. Emily poked and prodded at the doorknob before finally, carefully, picking the lock.
“Clever,” she said, as she pushed the door open with her foot. “The lock was charmed to trigger a defensive spell, if someone used magic to open it. Any thief would have to get through the outer layer of wards, then resist the temptation to use magic on the lock if they actually wanted to get inside.”
“He is clever,” Marah said. “Let me go first.”
The air felt oddly welcoming as she stepped into the darkened sitting room. Her heart twisted as the charmed crystals started to glow, casting an eerie light over the chamber. She’d sat on the sofa, time and again, listening to Virgil as he told her of how the common folk were oppressed by the aristocracy and why they had to fight back, no matter the cost. It had been warm and comforting, like having a real father for the first time in her life… she hated him and she loved him and her feelings were a tangled mess, a nightmarish mixture that left her unsure of everything. A lot of what he’d told her had been true. But truth was often a very good cover for lies.
“Be careful where you put your hands,” Emily said, quietly. “If there are traps scattered about, they may be lethal.”
Marah swallowed hard, her emotions churning helplessly. She’d come to see the house as home , a place she could rest her weary head in total safety… it felt wrong to think of it as a dangerous place. Virgil had never beaten her, he’d never raped her, he’d never… her heart twisted, painfully. It was hard to believe it had all been a lie. He’d treated her decently and yet he’d discarded her…
Eileen’s young man was nice and wonderful until they tied the knot , she reminded herself. Eileen had been a beauty, a year older than herself. And once they were married, he turned into a monster .
She forced herself to walk up the stairs, into her room. It was unchanged, the bedding lying where she’d left it… a shiver ran down her spine as she spotted the books she’d been given lying on the bedside table. She reached for them, then caught herself and cast a handful of detection charms first. There were no dangers, as far as she could tell, but she was still wary as she picked them up. Virgil had taught her to read… her heart twisted, again. He’d done far more for her than he’d needed to do, if he’d considered her expendable…
“No charms,” Emily said, from behind her. “Nothing to make you more compliant.”
Marah nodded, turning away to hide her tears. The room was hers… had been hers. She had loved it. She’d enjoyed having a private space of her own, something she’d lacked before he’d found her… she wanted to believe it hadn’t all been faked, that he’d cared for her on some level, and yet the evidence suggested otherwise. She forced herself to take one last look, then walk down the stairs to the sitting room. Emily had opened the door to the workshop.
“It’s interesting that he gave you a bedroom, while choosing to sleep in the workshop himself,” Emily said, as they walked down the narrow stairs. The bed at the rear of the workshop was surprisingly small. Virgil couldn’t lie down on it, unless he wanted his feet sticking out of the end. “Did he never hint you should sleep somewhere else?”
“No,” Marah said. “He gave me the room, told me to use it as I wished, and left me alone. He could have told me to sleep somewhere else, and I would have done it without hesitation.”
She frowned as something struck her. “I never saw him sleeping. Not once.”
“Curious,” Emily said. “Did he have any servants? Or maids?”
Marah shook her head. It wasn't uncommon for servants to be told to bed down in a workroom – her old boss at the inn, Madame Rosemont, had insisted on her sleeping next to the dogs – but Virgil hadn’t had anyone working for him. And yet, the bed was barely large enough for a ten-year-old child. She eyed the bed thoughtfully. It didn’t look slept in…
“There’s a bathroom, and a small kitchen, but no master bedroom,” Emily mused, thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
Marah wasn’t so sure. Aristos could afford separate bedrooms, commoners could not. Virgil might have given her space in a bid to win her loyalty, or… maybe he’d slept somewhere else. It wasn’t impossible, but… she’d never woken up first . Maybe he’d just never slept at all. It was possible, wasn’t it? There were supposed to be potions that could banish the need for sleep.
“He’s taken a number of tools,” Emily added. Her eyes swept the workbench and toolkits, noting the empty places. “But what’s left behind is worrying.”
“They’re very basic,” Marah pointed out. “Why…?”
“If these are what he’s left behind,” Emily said, “what did he take?”
Marah had no answer. Virgil had shown her the fruits of his handiwork, but he’d never shown her how to craft magical tools for herself. She had never thought to ask why. She had been told, years ago, that it took time to learn to be a craftsman… perhaps that was true, too, of magical craftsmen. Or maybe he’d wanted to hide what he was doing. She eyed the rows of wands, metal rings and other artefacts, most completely beyond her, and her heart sank again. She had no idea what he’d been doing, but… it was just another reminder of how far she had to go.
“Those are clearly intended for batteries,” Emily said, more to herself than Marah. “He gave you a fully charged battery, with a valve, to turn against me. How did he charge it?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What was he doing ?”
“You were draining some of my power every day,” Marah said. She had that battery in her knapsack, at Emily’s insistence. “Couldn’t he do the same?”
“Yes, but it would mean leaving himself weakened in the middle of a very hostile town,” Emily said. “If he wasn’t draining power from you, or himself, where was he getting the power?”
Her eyes narrowed. Marah felt cold. Emily didn’t look dangerous – and it was hard to think of her as a superior, rather than a peer – and yet, in that moment, it was suddenly easy to believe Emily had killed a number of necromancers with her bare hands. It was impossible and yet, Emily had a long history of doing the impossible…
“The guards clearly didn’t search this place at all,” Emily said, in a manner that made Marah almost feel sorry for the guards. Emily could get them in real trouble if she complained to their master. “They certainly didn’t report accurately.”
“No,” Marah agreed. She reminded herself how unpleasant the guards could be – always were – when confronted with someone who couldn’t fight back. They didn’t deserve any sympathy. “They probably spent time in the pub instead.”
Something shifted, something that brushed against her magic like a gust of wind. She looked up sharply, gathering herself… something had changed, even though the workshop looked no different. Emily’s eyes went wide, her hand flying out to grab Marah’s arm, as the building shook. Something shattered, high overhead… Marah felt, more than heard, a mighty creaking… it felt like the end of the world.
“Go limp,” Emily snapped. Her voice was tightly composed, as if she were trying desperately not to panic. “Now!”
Marah had only a second to obey before she felt herself swept up in a wave of pure magic, her body flying through the air and up the staircase. The walls were narrowing, closing in on them… she saw spiderweb cracks spreading through the paint, the walls cracking to reveal something beyond, something that her mind refused to grasp. She heard something explode behind her and looked down, just in time to see the wooden workbench shatter into a cloud of sawdust. The bed followed a moment later, debris disintegrating into dust even as it flew in all directions. It crossed her mind to wonder how the stairwell had gotten so long, an instant before they flew into the living room and crashed to the ground. The floor felt oddly unsteady beneath her feet, as if she were sitting on jelly. She had the weirdest sense her fingers would go right through the wood if she pressed.
“Get up,” Emily snapped. “The whole place is collapsing!”
Marah stumbled to her feet, dazed and confused. The living room was weirdly distorted, as if she were staring at the familiar sight through a confusion charm… or a painting drawn by an artist who had no sense of proportion or perception. The sofa and armchairs were elongating in all directions, while the walls were cracking and breaking… something exploded, high overhead, and she barely had a chance to move before the remnants of her bed fell down the stairs and crashed into the living room. The air felt thick, as if she were standing in water; the chamber took on a nightmarish visage, as if the whole experience was nothing more than a dream. It was hard, so hard, to convince herself that it was real, that she would die if she didn’t move. Emily caught her arm and yanked her forward, just as a wall started to shatter into nothingness. There should have been another house beyond, but instead there was…
… a void .
Marah bit her lip, hard, as the walls closed in. Emily pulled her towards the door, her magic flaring and pressing against the collapsing walls. Marah saw Emily stumble and forced herself to grab Emily in return, pulling her onwards as the floor crumbled under their weight. The magic grew stronger, pressing down on them… Marah knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were about to be crushed into a pulp. She mustered her own power, adding it to Emily’s long enough for her to levitate them both out of the collapsing door. A dull rumble echoed through the air as they landed in the alleyway, narrowly missing a puddle. Marah barely managed to turn her head in time to see the door vanish, as if it had never been there. The rumble faded and was gone.
Emily muttered a word Marah didn’t recognize, but didn’t sound pleasant. “A pocket dimension,” she managed. Her breath came in fits and starts, bearing mute testimony to how badly she’d pushed herself. “I thought there was something odd about it.”
Marah forced herself to stand. There was no one around, thankfully, and most footpads would think twice before trying to rob a magician, but they were in no state to fight. Two seemingly helpless women… she wouldn’t give a forged fool’s gold coin for their chances. “What… what was that ?”
“Your master is a crafty bastard,” Emily said. There was a hint of admiration in her tone. “I thought he’d hidden the entire house. He… he set up a pocket dimension instead, then fitted it out as a house and wove the charms to hide its true nature from prying eyes. I… the dimension must have been rigged to collapse when someone forced their way into the house. No wonder there were no windows.”
Marah didn’t understand. The trap, if trap it was, might not have been aimed at them specifically, but it had come very close to killing them both. She wondered, numbly, if Virgil had aimed it at the guards, or if he’d expected Emily to come calling after the unsuccessful assassination attempt. Either way… her heart twisted. It was hard, so hard, to think clearly. And she couldn’t even discuss the matter with her mistress…
She forced herself to calm down. “What do we do now?”
“We go back to the rooms and get some rest,” Emily said. She staggered to her feet, her outfit now stained with mud. “And then we find another way to track him down.”
Marah nodded. She had a rough idea of where to begin.