M ARAH STAGGERED IN AND OUT OF consciousness as the slaves dragged her down the stairs.
Her entire body was throbbing with pain, as if her stepfather had beaten her bloody once again, but her soul hurt more. Far more. Virgil had tricked her, lied to her from the moment he’d first met her, used her own blood to twist her mind and convince her to believe lies… obvious lies. She had been raped, to all intents and purposes, and she’d been twisted into enjoying it, into betraying others… she’d burned her bridges so completely she couldn’t see any way out, not any longer. Emily would never trust her again.
And yet…
She gritted her teeth, trying to think through the haze. Emily had wanted to use her too, just like Virgil. She had taught her the basics, and put her to work… just like Virgil. She had all the power in the world and yet she refused to confront injustice, to fight for the rights of the common man. She was no better than Lord Coalsack, no better than anyone else who had climbed to the top and then pulled the ladder up behind her. She told herself she was trying to help, but… at base, she was about as helpful as the rich ladies who prided themselves on helping the poor, while looking down on them and sneering at them and doing things that weren’t even remotely helpful. Marah had met too many of them : all loudly willing to affirm their desire to help; all completely unwilling to do anything that would mean a moment’s discomfort – or worse – for them. The fine ladies of society…
A wave of anger washed over her. She really had met many who’d thought they were doing the right thing, and others who had enjoyed asserting power over the weak and vulnerable… the ones who thought that nagging worked even when it didn’t and the ones who enjoyed watching people crawl, assuaging their guilt – if they even felt any – by asserting they were doing the right thing. Virgil had loved mocking them, and she’d enjoyed it too, watching their pretensions be exposed… had it all been a lie? No, she knew better. He’d wrapped his lies in a bodyguard of truth, ensuring she believed him when the time came without thinking. And just to make sure, he’d turned her own blood against her.
The slaves tightened their grip as they reached the bottom of the stairs and dragged her into a large chamber. Marah recoiled as she took a breath – the stench was unbearable – and then stared in horror. The chamber was lined with row upon row of men, women, and children, completely naked, collared and chained in metal nightmares that made it almost impossible to move. It was just like the other warehouse, only worse. They sat in their own waste, as if their master couldn’t be bothered to clean them or even order his slaves to clean themselves. Their bodies were too drained, too unnaturally aged, for her to comprehend. A young child – she couldn’t tell if the kid was male or female – looked wizened and old, so ancient the only reason she knew the kid was a child was because of their size. Others looked younger, but hopeless. Their eyes were dead and gone. They knew they were condemned to spend the rest of their lives in bondage, unable to even dream of escape…
Panic shot through her as two more slaves approached, carrying restraints and a metal collar lined with runes. She would have known what it was even if she hadn’t been able to sense the magic coiling around it, as beautiful and alluring as a poisonous serpent. She knew the attraction was part of the magic, a carefully crafted spell to make her want to be a slave, and yet it still called to her. She recalled some of the handsome boys she’d known, attractive despite being thoroughly unpleasant, and shuddered. The idea of letting one of them close to her, of taking off her clothes in front of them, was appalling and attractive at the same time. She felt sick as the slaves brought the collar closer…
“No,” she managed. She started to struggle, only to find herself held firmly in place. It was deeply impersonal, so unlike the moments when her stepfather had pushed and shoved her around, and yet it managed to be worse. Her arms were held behind her so tightly she almost screamed in pain, her limbs protesting as they were twisted in unnatural directions. “No…”
She bit her lip hard, forced herself to focus, and shaped the strongest cancellation charm she could. The collar seemed to glow in her mind, as the slaves brought it to her, before winking out a moment before they wrapped it around her neck. The slaves holding her let go a moment later, their collars clearly unable to realize or comprehend that Marah might still have complete control of herself. Marah pulled herself away from them, then froze all four slaves with a spell of her own. Their collars were charmed to make it difficult for her to undo the slave spells, but she could do it. She cast the spell…
The collars tightened. The slaves fell to the ground, their necks crushed before she could reverse her charm. Their heads tilted at impossible angles, the sight so wrong it took her a moment to understand what she was seeing. Marah staggered backwards, nearly throwing up. Emily had freed the earlier set of slaves, but these… she swallowed hard, promising the slaves she’d make Virgil – whoever he really was, whatever he really was – pay for his crimes. The slaves had seen too much, she guessed. He’d programmed their collars to kill the slaves if someone tried to liberate them.
She stared at the kneeling slaves, restrained beyond the point of sanity. She wanted, needed, to try to free them, but she didn’t dare. The magic was too complex for her to dismantle, certainly not without running the risk of killing them too. She wanted to believe the chained slaves weren’t so deeply enslaved, that they were restrained to keep them from escaping if the charms faded, but she dared not take the risk. Her stomach heaved as she turned away, examining the rest of the underground chamber. Virgil had been busy. The slaves were hooked up to a contraption that seemed to drain their very life and channel it elsewhere. It was so far beyond her that it might as well be science.
Her lips twisted bitterly as she explored the rest of the chamber, feeling the ceiling shake as something happened overhead. Emily and Virgil were still fighting… she hoped, prayed, that Emily won. The resentments were painful, twisting in her gut, but Emily was a much better person than Virgil. And yet… she did nothing about problems she could easily solve. Marah put the thought out of her mind as she staggered through the chamber, noting runes carved into the stone floor and iron tiles resting within the wood. It was staggeringly complex, for something that had been put together in a hurry. Perhaps… she wondered, numbly, if he’d assumed the warehouse was doomed anyway. The prince’s troops wouldn’t leave it unsearched if they managed to fight their way through the entire district. They’d probably have their fun with the slaves, no matter how dirty they were. Mercenaries were known for abandoning battle to rape every woman who crossed their path, and the prince’s guard weren’t any better. The slaves wouldn’t be able to run either.
She frowned as she spotted a workshop table, laden with tools and devices, A pair of wands… both nothing more than sticks, she thought, and yet tainted with magic. Two iron rings, a number of potion bottles, and a valve. A thought struck her as she picked up the valve, checking the design thoughtfully. It was just like the one Virgil had given her, back when the world had made sense… a wave of anger washed over her, almost terrifying in its intensity. The world hadn’t made sense because he’d lied to her. He’d lied time and time again and then sent her out to die, and then lied to her again ! She no longer knew who to believe, let alone who to trust. She just wanted Virgil dead before he managed to get his hooks into her again.
A hand caught her arm and yanked her around. Marah looked up into the dead eyes of a naked young woman, a collar all too visible around her neck. She didn’t look strong, not compared to someone who’d spent far too many years hauling coal, but the collar gave her an inhuman strength. Marah twisted, trying to break free, then brought her knee up as hard as she could. It would have put a man down, and seriously hurt a normal woman, but the slave didn’t seem to notice. She pulled Marah closer instead, trying to wrap her arms around her neck. Marah felt the slave spell, far too close to her, and cancelled it. The collar crushed its wearer’s neck. Again. Marah staggered back as the slave’s body hit the ground, feeling sick. She’d had no choice, but…
The ceiling shook, again. Pieces of dust fell from high above. Marah had no idea what was happening, if Emily and Virgil were still fighting or if the prince had burst into the chamber intent on killing everyone, but it hardly mattered. The roof would collapse, killing the slaves and burying all the evidence, if the fighting went on. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to hurry to the stairs, her hand clutching the knife in one hand and her valve and battery with the other. If she could get up in time, perhaps she could do something. Perhaps.
She nearly stumbled over the body, another young girl dead with no visible mark on her. There wasn’t even a collar… Marah stared at the naked body, wondering what had killed her and what she’d been, before her death. One of the missing children? A kidnap victim who had turned out to be too dangerous to keep alive? Or a street child who had wandered into the warehouse and found herself trapped, at the mercy of a maddened magician. It wasn’t fair… it wasn’t right . Marah knew what the law said, she knew magicians were allowed to do anything they liked to intruders, but… someone who only wanted shelter shouldn’t be killed for it. They could have been sent away instead… her anger built, a towering rage that made it harder to walk normally as the entire warehouse shook. She could feel the two magicians overhead, battling like gods… she wondered, painfully, if they really saw their magic as something that made them better than the mundanes scurrying around their feet. Maybe they did, but she knew better. Her stepfather had used his fists to put her in her place; the magicians who hexed mundanes who walked into their territory might use magic instead, and treat it as a joke, yet there was no real difference between them. The casual cruelty had no point, beyond cruelty itself. They thought their strength gave them the right to do as they pleased and force everyone else to bend over and take it…
The anger burned within her as she reached the top of the stairs and peered into the warehouse. It had been devastated, the crates reduced to piles of debris and sawdust and the stone walls cracked and broken; Virgil and Emily stood, their magic practically locked together, their eyes burning into each other… Marah thought, although she wasn’t sure, that Emily was winning, but… Emily had said she wanted to take Virgil alive. Marah knew what that meant. He’d never face any real punishments for his crimes, just like the aristos who went down the Coalsack in search of forbidden pleasures and got away with it, no matter how many lives they left in ruins. Their families didn’t care, as long as they kept their perversions out of polite society. Virgil would never face any real punishment for his crimes either.
He will , she promised herself. Whatever it takes, he will pay .
She shoved the valve into her battery, pointed one end at Virgil and released the magic. A blaze of pure power, all the magic she’d had to drain from herself to cast spells properly, lanced across the room and straight into his defenses. Emily jumped back as the magic flared, the power spilling in all directions like water from a hose; Marah saw Virgil smirk, the magic flaring brighter, as the last of his defenses melted away. The valve ran dry an instant later… Marah realized, to her horror, that most of the magic had been wasted. Virgil turned and smiled at her…
Marah threw the knife. His eyes went wide, an instant before the knife buried itself in his eye. A nasty flicker of satisfaction ran through her mind – he really shouldn’t have taught me how to use a blade – as his body hit the floor, the knife slicing through his skull before it dropped free. Marah had no idea if the blade had more curses than he’d said, but it didn’t matter. She’d driven the knife into his brain. His body might still be breathing, but he was dead.
Virgil twitched, his head turning slightly. Marah froze. Impossible .
He smiled. “In all things,” he said in a very different voice, “there is a hierarchy.”
His body fell back. He was dead.
“I had him.” Emily’s voice was low, angry. “We could have…”
Marah spun around, too angry to care she was mouthing off to a far more powerful young woman. “Done what? Do you know what he was doing down there? The slaves he was keeping, drained of their power…”
Her anger exploded, driven by pain and suffering and guilt. “He used me, but you’re no better. You tried to use me too! You…”
The anger built. “He lied to me about so much, but he didn’t lie about the suffering of the common people! He wasn’t wrong to say something had to be done! He wasn’t wrong to say men who climbed high didn’t do anything for their former peers, for everyone they ground under in their fight to climb to the top. He wasn’t wrong…
“And you did nothing! You do nothing!”
Emily took a breath. “Marah…”
“You could have forced the prince to stop this madness or killed him,” Marah snapped. “You could have convinced him to step down and leave the kingdom to the commoners or killed him. You could have done so much, but you’re no better than Lord Coalsack. You’ve become part of the system and you’re trying to save it, rather than tearing it down! How many…”
She gritted her teeth, a tidal wave of anger burning through her. “Someone has to fight for the common man,” she snarled. The memory of the betrayal was bitter and painful, but it gave her strength. Virgil might have played at being a folk hero, and used it to cover his real agenda, yet… she could do it herself. Or die trying. “Someone has to…”
Emily opened her mouth, but Marah didn’t give her a chance to speak. She scooped up the knife, then grabbed the teleport gem around her neck and triggered it. The world heaved and went black, a near-absolute darkness pervading her very soul before light poured in… she gasped, falling to her knees as she emptied her stomach onto the grass. It hurt, but there was no time to linger. Emily had programmed the gem… she had one of her own. She could come after Marah at any moment, if she wished. It was hard to think she wouldn’t. Would she put the slaves ahead of chasing her rogue apprentice? Marah didn’t know. She didn’t know anything any longer.
I know right from wrong , she told herself. Virgil had been a liar, and the Wild Fox nothing more than the smile on the face of the tiger, but she would be different. It’ll be enough .
She took a long breath as she looked up the valley. The tower was there, with Jenny… no, there was no time to visit, not if Emily gave chase. She felt a pang of regret as she turned and stumbled away, silently relieved she’d had the foresight to pack money as well as a handful of tools. Perhaps if she waited for Emily, perhaps if she threw herself on the older girl’s mercy… no, after everything she’d seen and done, it was unthinkable. She couldn’t lower herself to serve again, no matter the promised reward. She could get to town, hop on a stagecoach and lose herself in the countryside. And then…
The Wild Fox is dead , she thought, grimly. There was no longer any time for guilt or regret. She would dree her weird to the bitter end. Long live the Wild Fox .