For some reason she didn’t want to watch, didn’t want to try and catch a glimpse of whatever was roaming around out there. All her life she’d been warned about Stalkers and Life Stealers, heard tales of Night Roamers rarer and more powerful, but she’d never seen any. She didn’t want to start.
Now what? Kendall had few illusions about how much she’d be involved after they’d reached Asentyr. Even if she was able to learn to be a mage, all that meant was that she’d be shuffled off to some school. Would Lady Weston pay for that? Or would Kendall be expected to work off some debt, once she had the means? That was the trap you fell into when you started letting people do things for you. They always expected something in return.
Not that she could go home. Falk was kindling, and none of the surrounding towns were a good idea. None of Tyrland was a good idea.
Threats to the kingdom, magic and monsters; it was all completely beyond the day-to-day worry about food and savings which had been Kendall’s world since Gran died. What would it be like to be that woman? To be so powerful, to know what was going on, to be in control. What kind of person could stare down the Grand Magister, ignore a sword at her throat, dare even to say they were going to stop Black Queen Solace?
It seemed to Kendall that if that was what a mage could be, she would certainly have to try it.
Chapter Six
"You’re going to give that to them?"
Rennyn glanced up at Seb, then finished drawing an anti-trace casting in a circle around the list she’d made. "I’m worried about the duration of the first breach."
"The Sentene exist to deal with these kind of things."
"True."
She could practically hear him deciding what to say next.
"Planning to just walk up and hand it to them?"
"I was toying with the idea of sending it to the Grand Magister in the mail. It’s a difficult one. Perhaps it was always too much to hope to have nothing to do with the Sentene until the last couple of incursions. They know my face now, and the more I avoid them, the more they’ll come after me. This is a compromise – hopefully it will distract them."
"Likely?"
"Not at all."
She finished her casting and went to the kitchen, but was not surprised when he followed her. He was trying so hard not to criticise, but couldn’t quite let it alone.
"How can we justify it?" he asked, worrying at the point which bothered him most. "Yes, I – I guess that villager would probably have died if you hadn’t sent her off. How many will die if we fail? We have a duty to see this through. And to do that we have to stay alive, keep ourselves safe. Now, for the sake of some random village girl, you’re exposed."
"Would you have left her to be crushed by the expansion, then?"
He flushed and looked down, chewing his lower lip. "If it put what we had to do at risk. I suppose it must have seemed unlikely they’d work it out, though," he conceded. "But you know that eventually–"
"I know." She sighed. "People may have to die. But she didn’t. Yes, just some random villager, but even knowing it would mark me, I’d probably do it again. I don’t want to be a person who stands and watches. And she at least taught me not to underestimate the Sentene. Or pure bad luck. Besides, all it’s done is throw off our timing. No-one cut my throat."
For all one had had ample opportunity. Her great-grandmother had loathed the Kellian, had called them stained glass monsters, but it was not the right term for the man of mist and flint she’d met. A creature born of cobweb, dew and dawn light. And flesh. The cobweb had given strength, the dew an unusual relationship with light, and dawn brought speed. Who, after all, could outrun the dawn? The Kellian were a triumph of Symbolic magic, and immensely dangerous. The originals had all been women, voiceless and deadly. Bodyguards who would never betray their Queen. It had been such a gamble, to walk up to a descendent of one, to trust to her defences. And for all she knew about Kellian speed, she hadn’t quite been able to believe how quickly he’d drawn that sword.
"Telling the Sentene where the incursions will take place will make meeting with them more likely, but I’ll accept that if it means not having things like Kentatsuki loose any longer than necessary. Even with them on the scene, it’s easy to avoid encounters so long as I’m prepared. To which point–"
Slipping into her jacket, she began checking the contents of her skirt pockets, making certain she had all that was necessary before picking up a sturdy stoneware jar filled with water, which she concealed by draping a coat over her arm. If she made her move while it was still the middle of the day, she’d have a better chance of avoiding any watch the Sentene may have set for her.
"I’ll have a hot dinner waiting for you." There was a hint of apology in Seb’s voice, underlying the worry and frustration he felt having to continually see her off into possible danger.
"And something sugary for afters?"
"You and your cakes. I’ll find something. Come back as soon as you can, Ren."
She smiled and snapped him a salute, then walked through the wards to the landing. A quick clatter down the stair and she was out into the noisy streets of Asentyr.
The capital of Tyrland was a sprawling city, cramped only in a few places. The palace stood on a hill and looked down over the Temple District to the Docks and the river which cut through marshes to the west toward the sea. The bulk of the city spread east, rolling over a series of smaller hills which gradually petered out into fields and fields and fields punctuated by smaller towns and villages.
There were three Claire properties in Asentyr. The neat and compact apartment on the northern edge of the Temple District would be home until the Grand Summoning was complete. There was also a basement storehouse close to the docks, which held a great deal of old Surclere junk and copies of the most important books. On the far side of Aliace Hill, on the outskirts of the city proper, was a dusty house surrounded by a high wall. Seb had checked it once to ensure it was intact, and they would only go there again if they were desperate for shelter.
The northern edge of the Temple District held the city’s busiest streets. Tall houses were jammed together, crammed with people, and a dozen play-houses stood out among the narrow buildings, queens each with a little court of taverns. The area was called Crossways, and it seemed to Rennyn as if the entire population of Tyrland passed through it three times daily. A useful thing. She lost herself in the crowd, letting it carry her down the largest of the roads toward the river.
They’d started setting up the blockade already, though people would be allowed through until sunset, and then a curfew would be enforced over the entire Temple District. A dramatic move, but a sensible one. It would be night, and even warned and waiting the Sentene might not be able to intercept a major creature immediately. Keeping the area as free from unnecessary wanderers as possible would prevent deaths.
People weren’t afraid yet. This blockade had been announced as a precaution for a suspected outbreak, and the destruction of Falk was the centre of gossip as an ongoing magical disaster, but they’d not announced the Grand Summoning for what it was. Rennyn had no doubt it had been discussed in Private Council, and it was sure to eventually become obvious to anyone who had read a history book, but for now Tyrland went about its business much as usual.
Sliding her free hand into her pocket, Rennyn carefully slipped a ring onto her middle finger, and lifted up the egg-sized stone attached to it by a sturdy chain. Solace Montjuste-Surclere. She’d been a strong ruler, occasionally harsh, but not unusually so. Until the Grand Summoning, she’d not done anything to make herself reviled. But her rule had been threatened. Internally by a cousin who claimed a truer right to the throne. Externally by a foreign empire greedy for expansion. Her response was called the Madness of Queen Solace now, but it seemed to Rennyn a coldly calculated and conscienceless move. The Grand Summoning. It would make Tyrland almost impossible to attack, and consolidate the Montjuste-Surclere rule. What were a few innocent lives compared to that cause?