TWELVE

Reb wasn’t difficult to find, once Tait started looking. Apparently there had been some plague, a couple of years previously, and most of Marek’s sorcerers had died. This Reb was one of those who remained – her, and someone called Cato who lived in the squats, who the barman at the White Horse was clearly a bit dubious about. Tait made themself eat something before they set out, and it sat like an indigestible lump in their stomach as they walked over to the Old Market.

Reb, when she opened the door to Tait, didn’t look terribly pleased to be disturbed; though surely she’d be happy enough to see a potential client. Not that Tait was a potential client exactly, but Reb couldn’t know that yet. She eyed them narrowly, and folded her arms. “What do you want?”

“Uh. I’m looking for a sorcerer. Can I come in?”

“I suppose so,” Reb said, and stood back, allowing them through the door.

Once inside, Tait wasn’t quite sure where to start. Or where to go, come to that. The room was small, with two internal doors at the back, both of which were closed, and one of which had a heavy lock. A workroom? To Tait’s right was a stove and kitchen equipment; in front and to their left a collection of mismatched chairs and a low table. It was a bare room, but a vase of flowers sat on one windowsill, the only real splash of colour or decoration in the place.

Reb stood, arms still folded, and glared at Tait for a few moments; then she sighed and gestured to the chairs. She stomped across the room and sat down in the battered armchair, and, when Tait didn’t immediately follow, gestured again at the wooden chairs by the armchair.

“Well then? Sit down and tell me what you want.”

Tait obediently sat, then took a deep breath and went for the bald approach.

“I’m – I’m from Teren. I came…” They stopped, and tried again. “I’m a sorcerer. But I don’t want to be, I don’t want to work how I was taught in Teren, not any more. Everyone knows about Marek’s magic. I want…”

“You want to apprentice here, instead?” Reb said. Her voice was even. Tait couldn’t tell what she thought of the idea.

“You’ve done it,” Tait pointed out. It was guesswork – something about Reb’s vowels, something about the way she was looking at Tait – but they were prepared to bet on it.

Reb didn’t react, though her shoulders tensed, perhaps, ever so slightly. She didn’t deny it, either. “Why?” she demanded.

“Well, why did you do it?” Tait asked, and got a glare in response.

“That’s none of your business, and you’re making a lot of assumptions right now. Why do you want to?”

“I don’t want to deal in blood, and I don’t want to summon demons,” Tait said, which was slightly more than they’d meant to say outright.

It had been a hell of a shock, realising what they’d got themself into, that first time back in the Academy in Ameten. As had realising why they’d been trained in the first place. There might have been more sensible reactions to this than to banish the spirit they’d raised and run for it, but Tait hadn’t been able to think of any at the time.

But they were safe in Marek now. It might notionally be Teren, but the laws were different, and the magic was different, and the sorcerers were different. And Reb was from Teren, and she’d become a sorcerer here. Maybe this might work out yet.

Reb was still eyeing them. “Have you ever used unwilling blood?”

“No,” Tait said, and pushed up their sleeves, showing Reb the tracery of scars right up their arms. Arms were easiest to get at, for blood work. Reb raised an eyebrow, and Tait dropped their sleeves again. Even in Teren they didn’t much like showing their arms unless they were working. Here it seemed like a particularly bad idea.

“Have you ever used someone else’s willing blood?”

“Ye-es,” Tait said. “My tutor. And her other student. And someone who wanted me to perform a spell on them, and I needed it to tie it together.”

Reb nodded. “Nothing you paid for?”

“No!” Tait said indignantly. They were aware that some people did that, paid for blood to use in their own spells, rather than use their own, but Tait had always seen it as a bit like cheating. Not as bad as just taking it, of course, but…

Which was why Tait’s arms looked the way they did, and some sorcerers seemed to have barely a scar. Of course, the other reason for that was that some sorcerers went directly to summoning-and-binding and Tait had avoided that for a long while, scared for reasons they couldn’t quite articulate, until the Academy pushed them into it.

Of course, it turned out that they’d been right to be scared. And right, although they hadn’t thought of it quite that way before, to be unsettled about what exactly the Academy was asking for. They wished, now, that they’d run earlier; but then, once they entered the Academy it had already been too late.

Reb was chewing at a thumbnail. “Why have you come here?”

This was the tricky bit. “I told you already. I got fed up with slicing myself open, and I don’t like binding spirits,” Tait said. Which was true, as far as it went, but they hadn’t had the notion of leaving home and coming here until they were already on the run.

“So you’ve come here.”

“I still want to do sorcery,” Tait said, and knew that that must sound true because it was, desperately and entirely true. “Marek has sorcery, a different sort of sorcery. I wanted… I thought, maybe, someone would teach me.”

“And you came to me.”

“I was told, there’s only two sorcerers left in Marek now,” Tait said. “You, and someone that my informant didn’t recommend.”

“Cato,” Reb said. “Hm, well.” She didn’t elaborate.

“So I came to you,” Tait said. “To ask if you’ll teach me.” She was still looking at them, so Tait chanced another reminder. “And it looks like you did the same yourself, once. If you’re Teren. Did you start off with Teren magic, too?”

Reb stared flatly at them, and Tait looked away. “Sorry,” they muttered. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No,” Reb said, and their tone was absolute.

Tait’s stomach plummeted. “No?”

“No, I won’t take you on as an apprentice,” Reb said. “You’re not telling me the whole truth, and I’m not taking on someone who isn’t.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you the sorcerer the Teren Lord Lieutenant was talking about?”

“W-what?” Tait managed. Horror pulsed through their skull.

“The one who raised some demon they couldn’t control, did a runner, they’re still struggling with it back at Ameten.”

“No!” Tait said. “I mean, yes, but…”

But they’d got rid of it. They had! Hadn’t they?

Too late, they realised that they’d missed their opportunity to deny it, to look casual and unconcerned and maybe faintly surprised. Reb was shaking her head.

“You are,” Reb said. “That’s you. What on earth are you thinking, coming to Marek, with that thing maybe after you? What on earth were you thinking, just running away from it?” She sounded disgusted. “You have no idea what it could have done. Well, that’s not even true, you do have an idea, don’t you. That’s worse.”

“I couldn’t… I banished it. I did. Half those scars, the new ones…” Tait felt panic rising. “Surely I couldn’t have…”

“You thought you banished it but you didn’t check?” Reb said. She sounded scornful. “Well, even if that were true, it doesn’t exactly bode well for your careful attitude, does it?”

“Gods, is it free?” Tait demanded. They felt sick.

“Yes,” Reb said. “So I’m told. No harm done yet, but who knows what’ll happen.”

Tait could feel themself shaking. No harm done yet, at least, but…

But they had banished it. They were certain of it. They’d seen it disappear, they’d shut everything down…

“I did banish it,” they said, but Reb didn’t look convinced. “Someone must have raised it again. To look for me.”

Reb was shaking her head. “Why on earth would they bother? Just for one sorcerer?”

“The Academy,” Tait said. “They don’t want, they don’t let you go…” But Reb must have been in Marek for years, long before the Academy was established. She wouldn’t know. And Tait themself hadn’t wanted to think badly of the Academy until the very last minute. They’d ignored so much. They scrabbled for words to explain everything to Reb, but nothing would come together. And they couldn’t be certain, not any more, that it definitely wasn’t their fault…

Reb looked away, obviously giving up on Tait.

“I should hand you straight over to the Teren Lieutenant. Send you back to solve your own damn problem.”

Tait stood up, trembling, almost knocking the chair over as they stood.

“I won’t,” Reb said, with an irritable wave of the hand. “I’m not going to take you on as an apprentice, and I don’t want to see you around Marek again. But I won’t send you to her.”

“But Marek’s the only place that’s safe,” Tait said. They swallowed.

“I said,” Reb said, distinctly and slowly, “that I don’t want to see you around Marek. Because if I do, I might have to reconsider this decision. Do you understand me?”

Tait nodded, jerkily.

“Now. Get the hell out of here. If you’ve any morality at all, you’ll go back of your own accord and find a way to deal with that thing. Maybe the city sorcerers will let you help without just throwing you to it.”

Tait knew how unlikely that was. Reb, presumably, believed what she was saying; but there was no point in trying again to explain. And perhaps it was Tait’s own screwup, after all. Maybe they really had messed up the banishing, and just not realised. In which case maybe they ought to sacrifice themself to their own screwup. Gods and angels. What had they done?

Tait couldn’t think of anything to say to Reb. Goodbye, thank you – none of it could possibly be right. They just nodded, again, walked across the room, and let themself out the door. They felt Reb’s eyes on their back the whole way.

k k

Tait couldn’t afford to let themself think about anything Reb had said as they walked back through the city to the White Horse. They didn’t know this place; if they started trying to work out what to do next, or thinking at all about the demon – how could it still be here, what had they done? – they would just end up lost, and that wasn’t going to help the situation. Time enough to panic, or break down, or whatever, once they were safely back in their room at the inn.

They’d pinned so much on Marek’s sorcerers being helpful. They hadn’t let themself think about what to do if they weren’t. And they hadn’t even thought that the demon might be on the loose, again. Still. They’d seen it go back, they’d seen the link to the spirit plane close. They’d seen it, they’d been certain, before they’d run, and now… ? Bile rose in their throat, and they swallowed it back down. It might not have been that, after all. But it didn’t really matter, did it? If there was a demon coming to Marek, it was still Tait’s fault. They’d raised it; they’d run; they’d run here.

Tait had walked through the market square – this was the Old Market, as opposed to the New Market where they’d entered Marek – more or less without seeing it. The river was in front of them now, with a small passenger ferry loading at a dock to one side, and Tait turned right to walk along the riverside towards Old Bridge. The barman at the White Horse had said that there were quicker ways to get from the Old Bridge to where Reb lived, but sticking to the riverside was the least likely to get Tait lost.

There was another sorcerer. This Cato that Reb had mentioned, and that the barman hadn’t thought much of. Reb hadn’t sounded like she thought much of – him? them? her? – either. But then Reb didn’t think much of Tait, either. Tait swallowed back misery. Cato had sounded potentially dangerous, but… more dangerous than the alternatives? Tait shook their head, trying to dislodge the spiralling loop of thoughts. Best just not to think about any of this until they could sit down quietly and peacefully and work it all out. Otherwise they’d wind up screaming in the middle of the street.

The docks were busy, and Tait tried to distract themself in watching all that was going on. This section of the dock was evidently Salinas, although there were only a couple of their big sleek sea-going ships there at the moment. People did mysterious nautical things with rope and paint on the decks. Tait had never met anyone from Salina. Teren, other than Marek, was land-locked, and the Salinas were devoted to their ships. Smaller boats were loading and unloading crates with various stamps across them. It was fascinating to watch, despite Tait’s anxiety. Tait knew about Marek’s status as trade-city for Teren, but seeing the reality of it was something else. They loitered for a while, leaning on a rail at the edge of one of the docks, out of the way of the people moving about their business, just watching; then straightened up with a sigh. They were just putting off the moment of deciding what to do next. At least they felt a bit calmer now.

Old Bridge was another five minutes’ walk along the riverside. Close to the bridge, the path became a stone embankment for walking, right next to the river, rather than skirting behind the edge of a working dock. It was mirrored on the other side of Old Bridge – the flashier side, Tait had already realised – by a much more elaborate one, with more elaborately-dressed people walking along it. Over here, Marek’s poorer citizens might take a few minutes at the middle of the day for a stroll, if they were lucky and had the time and energy; over there were Marek’s richer citizens, who could presumably choose to take rather more time for their strolls.

Once Tait reached the White Horse, they found their stomach growling; they’d been too nervous to eat before going to see Reb, and they’d taken their time walking back. Perhaps before going back to the room, they could have something to eat in the taproom.

“Ah, Ser Tait,” the barman said – the same one who’d given Tait directions to Reb’s. “I trust your errand this morning went well. I’m afraid you’ve just missed someone asking for you.”

Tait’s heart warmed slightly. Surely it must be one of the expedition, Bracken perhaps, or, less likely, Captain Anna. Tait hadn’t thought either of them had become fond enough of Tait to look them up, but it would be nice to be wrong.

“Or at any rate, he was asking after a Teren sorcerer, just come in,” the barman continued.

The warm feeling disappeared. Bracken or Captain Anna would have asked for Tait by name.

“Had a bit of a Teren accent, so I figured him for a countryman of yours, looking for a chin-wag,” the barman was saying. “I said you’d doubtless be back later, but he didn’t want to leave a name. Just said he’d be back another time. You only just missed him.”

Tait’s appetite had entirely disappeared. There were no good reasons for someone from Teren to be asking for them. Tait supposed it was just about possible that one of the expedition had mentioned a Teren sorcerer to a Teren friend, and that friend was so desperate for the accents of home that he came looking… but then he’d have Tait’s name, wouldn’t he? And would have mentioned Bracken or whoever it was?

There weren’t many people who knew Tait was here. The expedition. Reb, now. There weren’t many people who would have any interest in a Teren sorcerer. But Reb had said that the Teren Lieutenant knew about that wretched demon, and by implication, that she was looking for whoever raised it… That didn’t make sense, though. How would they be looking for Tait here in Marek, already? Unless it was sheer luck, that the Lord Lieutenant had heard, somehow, of the presence of a Teren sorcerer here and thought it was worth checking…

The barman was looking at Tait, his eyebrows raised.

“Hmm?”

“I said, Ser, was there something you wanted?”

“Uh. Um, are you serving something for lunch? Could I have some of it sent up to my room?”

“There’s fish stew with bread?” the barman offered.

“Yes. Absolutely. Here, let me pay for it – no, I’d rather not put it on my account, thank you.”

Tait walked heavily up the stairs to their room, and didn’t think to wonder if the Teren enquirer really had gone away and not, say, gone to wait for them, until they’d walked into the room. Thankfully, there was no one there. But it just showed that Tait wasn’t thinking clearly.

It could just be coincidence. And even if it wasn’t coincidence, maybe if that person did come back, Tait could talk their way out of it. Brazen it out. Would there be a description circulating? It wasn’t like anyone else had been around at the time, and the demon was surely unlikely to be co-operating with anyone if it was on the loose… unless it thought it might get fed if it did.

Tait shuddered at the thought.

This was all falling apart. Tait had known that the Academy would look for them – everyone knew what the Academy did to runaway sorcerers – but they’d figured that if Tait could stay out of sight for long enough, for example, hidden in Marek, under the cityangel’s protection, then in due course the Academy would give up. One junior sorcerer; it couldn’t be that important, could it? But that had been when Tait believed that the demon was safely back on its own plane. Not when it had yet to be banished, and when everyone knew that the easiest way to do so would be to find Tait and feed them to it. And if they’d gone to the trouble of raising it again just to look for Tait, that was still the story they were putting about, so that was still what Tait had to assume they were planning.

The demon hadn’t hurt anyone yet. That didn’t mean that it wouldn’t. It might mean that it was under control; it might just be luck.

And the other thing Tait had been counting on was Marek’s magic. Not just the protection; Marek’s magic, to them, sounded almost impossibly wonderful. A long-term, permanent contract with a spirit, that didn’t require blood or sacrifices of other sorts or deals or fear or… But Reb had turned them down. No magic. No protection.

Jerkily, Tait started stuffing their things back into their bag. They had to run. Again. But where to, this time? One of those Salinas ships, maybe – did they take passengers? Did they take broke passengers? Tait had their money from the expedition, but they couldn’t imagine that it was enough to get them passage anywhere particularly useful. And in any case, where else did sorcery? The idea of a life without magic… but the alternative to just losing their magic was losing their life as well.

Maybe Reb was right, maybe they should go back. But… Tait didn’t have the fortitude to go back and voluntarily feed themself to a demon. Even if it was their fault – but it had gone, though, it had gone – and certainly not just to feed the Academy’s unwillingness to let anyone get away. To let anyone believe they had an alternative, once they’d stepped through those stone doors.

There was a knock at the door, and Tait jerked, horrible visions running through their head, before a bored voice called “Your food!” and Tait cautiously opened the door to take a plate of stew and a small loaf of bread.

The food looked and smelt appetising enough, except that Tait had precisely no appetite at all. They forced themself to sit down and eat at least some of it – they didn’t need to start out hungry. They were going to have to leave the White Horse, that was clear, but where to?

As they ate, their mind kept coming back to this Cato. Another sorcerer. Who Reb disliked, and who clearly had a bad reputation. But what other options did Tait have? Maybe the bad reputation would be a help; maybe if Tait made a clean breast of everything that had happened, maybe Cato would find it amusing to help a demon-raiser. A cowardly one, Reb had said, and she wasn’t wrong. (But the demon had been banished, it had. Tait felt tears start in the corners of their eyes and furiously blinked them away.)

And if not, then presumably Cato would take Tait along to the Teren Lieutenant and hand them over, and maybe that would be what Tait deserved.

It wasn’t like there were any good options available. Tait pushed the bowl of stew away, shoved the loaf of bread into their bag for later use, and did a final check of the room for abandoned belongings. They didn’t want to leave officially; there were too many people around who were watching, too many people who might be able to tell someone, later, which way Tait had gone.

Tait counted out onto the table enough coins to cover their bill, and a little more, strapped their bag across their chest, took a deep breath, and threw open the window.