The Firemage's Vengeance Read online

  Ebon looked to his friends as they walked. “Do you think it will work?”

  “The die is cast,” murmured Theren. “We have no choice now but to see where it will fall.”

  XAIN [2]

  Ebon did not follow Perrin’s instructions at once, and went to his common room rather than straight to bed. There he waited a while, until the door opened again and some other students came in. He saw Nella among them, and jumped up from his seat to catch her eye.

  “What happened?” he said.

  She stopped short and regarded him carefully. As one of Lilith’s friends, Nella had never been exactly friendly with Ebon. But after the two of them fought beside each other on the day the High King’s Seat was attacked, Ebon had always felt a sort of mutual, grudging respect between them.

  “Several instructors interrupted the meeting,” said Nella. “They took Instructor Jia away with them.”

  “Was she all right?”

  “She fought them.” Her eyes shifted away from his face. “I have never quite seen the like of it. First she screamed, and then she thrashed in their arms. She even tried to turn herself—with weremagic, I mean—but Perrin dispelled it. By the time they removed her, she was speaking nonsense. Then they told us to come straight to bed.”

  Her gaze fell away, and she pushed past him into her dormitory. After the door shut behind her, Ebon stared at it for a long time before his mind returned to the present. He shook himself and returned to an armchair before the hearth.

  Since the moment he and Kalem had begun to suspect something was wrong, he had hardly had any time to think. Now he watched the flickering, writhing orange and red of the fire, his mind racing, unable to banish the memory of the black glow in Isra’s eyes.

  Why would she still be here? Wisdom would have commanded her to leave the Seat as quickly as she could. But clearly wisdom did not rule her mind now. Ebon knew little of the madness that magestones could bring, but he thought he knew enough.

  Then he shot up straight in the armchair. Did this mean that Erin, the Dean’s son, also remained on the Seat? It would make sense that he would be.

  He got up, and very nearly ran from the common room and downstairs. But with his hand on the door, he paused. If he had only just come to this conclusion, Dean Forredar certainly would have thought of it already. It would do no one any good for Ebon to come running to the instructors and tell them, and it might call more attention down upon him—mayhap even suspicion.

  Damn the suspicion, he thought. He saw in his mind Erin’s terrified eyes as Isra dragged the boy away. But another moment passed, and he let his hand fall from the door. Though it made his gut clench in self-loathing, he feared to draw any more attention than they already had.

  He returned to the armchair, and there he remained until dawn’s light began to shine through the windows. Once it did, he washed himself and made his way to the dining hall. Theren and Kalem were not there yet, and so he filled three bowls with porridge for them and himself. As each appeared, he flagged them down with a wave, and soon they sat eating quietly.

  “Have you heard—” Kalem began.

  “No one has heard anything yet, Kalem,” said Theren.

  They fell to silence again.

  At last, when most of the students had assembled in the hall, the faculty came in. Ebon studied them carefully. All looked haggard, and he doubted any of them had slept a wink. At their head was Dean Forredar. His eyes looked haunted, troubled in a way Ebon could not define. It sent a shiver through Ebon’s limbs. When the instructors had settled themselves into their seats, Xain tapped his cup on the table for silence. He hardly needed to; the dining hall had fallen to a quiet murmur the second the faculty had appeared.

  “Students,” Xain began. “Last night, there was an attack, though not a fatal one—and thank the sky for that. In recent weeks, we have tried hard to keep the rumor from your ears, but I do not doubt that you have all heard it: Isra, once a student here, is the Academy killer.”

  He paused for a moment, and Ebon saw his jaw twitching. What he had not said, and likely would not say, was that Isra had taken his son, Erin, as well.

  When he had composed himself, he went on. “We, along with the constables and Mystics who searched for her, thought that she had fled the Seat. But last night, she returned.”

  A hushed gasp rippled through the students. Xain did not try to shush it, but instead regarded them all carefully.

  “Yes. She was here. And she tried to kill three … students, who came upon her in the kitchens. By sheer luck, they survived. The next time, we might not be so fortunate.” Ebon heard the word twist in Xain’s mouth, and it made his heart skip a beat. But Xain went on steadily. “There is something else. Another thing you should all know. What I am about to tell you goes against the ruling of past Deans for many, many long years. But I was once a student here, as you are now. I know we have all heard things of which it is forbidden to speak aloud. But I will speak them aloud now, for I believe that it is more dangerous to remain silent. Isra is an abomination—an eater of magestones.”

  The hall burst into tumult. Some students stood from their benches in fear, while others simply sat in place and cowered. Ebon felt stunned. It had seemed dangerous enough last night, when Kalem had said the word to Instructor Perrin. Now, it felt as though Xain had stood before them all and spouted curses like a common dockhand. He hardly knew what to think.

  Xain let the noise continue for a moment, but then he raised his hands. “Silence. Silence! I do not tell you this to frighten you—any more than you should be frightened, at any rate, though that may be a fair bit. I tell you this so that you know: Isra is not to be approached. She is not to be regarded with anything but fear. If you should catch sight of her, you must not try to fight her or capture her. She can command you with a whispered word, and you will have no choice but to obey.”

  “But then there is no hope!” In the middle of the hall, one student rose from her bench with a cry. Her pale skin was even paler now with fright. “We should leave. All of us should leave. How can you hope to stop her?”

  “If you were to leave, no one could blame you,” said Xain. “That is one reason I tell you this now. If you, or your families, wish to leave the Academy for your own safety, that is your choice, and you should make it with both eyes open. But as for Isra—I said that you all must not fight her. I did not say that we would not. For magestones make a wizard powerful—but not all-powerful. Even an abomination can be stopped. Sometimes, they can even be saved.”

  That silenced them. The girl who had spoken slowly sank back into her seat. To either side of the Dean, instructors looked uncomfortably at their hands. Only Perrin kept her gaze upon him, unflinching at his words, though they bordered on blasphemy. Ebon noted that Dasko hardly seemed to be listening to the speech. His eyes were far away, and every so often his shoulder twitched, as though he were flinching away from something.

  Xain leaned forwards, his knuckles pressed into the wooden table. “Yes. It is true. Since the time of the Wizard Kings, generations of Deans have forbidden you who study here from having this knowledge. In times past, I might have understood why. But now things are different. Underrealm is at war, and magestones, though still beyond the King’s law, are more common than they have been in a long while. Only knowledge can save us now. Knowledge of the good and the evil alike.

  “We here, the instructors and I, will keep you safe to the best of our ability. But we cannot do it without your help. You must be ever wary and ever vigilant. You must come to us at once if you see anything odd going on—a friend acting out of sorts, or an instructor whose mind goes vacant and wandering. We can stop Isra, but not by hiding in the dark from truths that have been kept from us too long.”

  The dining hall was dead quiet. Someone nearby shifted their feet on the floor, and it seemed to Ebon as loud as a breaking branch.

  “That is all,” Xain said. “If you have questions, or wish to speak to anyone of this, ple
ase see your instructors in class.”

  He turned and left the dining hall. The moment the door swung shut behind him, whispers burst out in the hall. But when Ebon and his friends looked to each other, none of them uttered a word.

  six

  XAIN’S SPEECH WAS NOT THE last time Isra and her magestones were mentioned that day. In Perrin’s class just after breakfast, she spoke of it again, and invited questions from the students. None were asked—the students were second-years, and most were timid, and likely few of them knew anything of magestones at all. Ebon withheld his tongue because he knew more about magestones than he wished to, and he did not want to draw any attention to himself after the events of the night before. In the library that afternoon, Kalem and Theren told him that their classes had been much the same—except in those cases, many questions had been asked. And Ebon was chilled to hear that one student had asked if they could not use magestones against Isra—to procure their own supply, and thus defeat her. That idea had been immediately shouted down. But the fact that it had been voiced at all … Ebon shuddered to think of such an idea being put into action.

  Well he remembered the days after the attack on the High King’s Seat, when everyone had been fearful and solemn. Now that mood had returned again, only worse. Then, they had been afraid of some enemy from far lands. Now, a foe was in their very midst, and she had once broken bread with them all. She had slept beneath the same roof. And worse, no one knew where she had gone, or where she might be. The weight of that terror was heavy upon them all.

  “I do not understand,” said Ebon. “How could she have vanished?”

  “No one knows,” said Theren. “They only know that she did.”

  “They say the Academy was searched from top to bottom,” said Kalem. “But she was not found in any room. They searched in teams, and all kept careful watch to make sure that she would not trick them with mindwyrd. But they saw no trace of her.”

  They studied in worried silence after that. It seemed an eternity before the final study bell rang. Ebon rose from his armchair with a sigh of relief. He joined his friends in the dining hall, but found he had no appetite.

  He had an appointment that evening in the city. The events of the night before had made him reconsider going out, for Isra might be anywhere. But in the end Ebon decided that Isra would hardly expect him to be out in plain sight on the streets, and would not know where he was going in any case. He would only encounter her by the most terrible of luck, and even he did not think that poorly of his own fortune. So, with blood rising to his cheeks, he excused himself and left the hall. Kalem and Theren were too preoccupied to notice his embarrassment.

  Winter ran its persistent fingers up and down his skin as he stepped through the Academy’s front door. He quickened his steps to get the blood flowing and headed west towards the blue door, as he had so often before—only now, he did not mean to pass through it. His heart skipped a beat, though the day’s worries plagued his thoughts, and they were reluctant to leave him. He swore silently to himself that he would not spend the evening voicing such concerns to Adara. This night was about the two of them, not him alone.

  When at last he reached the blue door, Adara gave him a smile and a nod. The snow dusting her mantle told the tale of how long she had spent waiting. She had chosen to wear his family’s color, a golden dress with a cloak that was a few shades darker. The hood was lined with fur, which she blew into to warm herself. The moment she saw Ebon, her face lit like a kindled lantern. But then the light was doused at once, and she gave him a nervous smile. It pleased him a bit, the thought that perhaps she was as anxious as he was.

  “My love,” she murmured.

  He took her in his arms. “Your love? I would argue that you are mine.”

  She smiled. Then she put his arm in hers and led him away. He expected another lengthy walk—but after only two blocks, she stopped before a wooden door, this one unpainted. It stood between a tavern on one side and a building on the other that looked like a cobbler’s shop. The buildings were pressed tight together, so that it seemed they crowded the door to Adara’s home.

  “Here it is,” she said breathlessly. “Would you like …?”

  The words trailed off. She waved a graceful hand at the handle. Ebon tried to speak, but his throat was suddenly bone-dry, and so he gave it up.

  The handle turned easily under his fingers. As they swung open, the hinges gently squeaked.

  There was a short staircase—short, but steep. He tramped the snow off before he climbed its steps, thankful he had remembered it and not made a slob of himself. A little railing helped him make the climb.

  And then, there he was. Adara’s home.

  It was small, but not cramped. He guessed she did not want for more space, since many of her needs were seen to by the Guild of Lovers. The windows at the front of the room drew attention at once. Ebon guessed that each looked out over the front door of the tavern and the cobbler’s, respectively. The evening light they admitted illuminated the room so that it did not yet need lamps. Tucked in one corner was her bed. It was nothing so ornate as the silk-sheeted thing behind the blue door, though Ebon noted with a blush that it seemed just as sturdy. On the other side of the room was a bureau, as well as a closet that stood out from the wall. Finally, before one of the windows was a small table with two chairs, behind which was a low cabinet that looked like it might hold wine (or, Ebon realized, mead, for Adara favored it). Where there was color—sashes over the windows, the bureau’s trim, the bedspread—it was deep, muted blue, the perfect contrast to the dress and cloak she now wore.

  Adara stood behind him now, hands clasped before her, fingers rubbing against each other anxiously. Her eyes were wide as they remained on him. It was so utterly unlike the Adara he was accustomed to. She smiled as he looked at her, though it seemed somewhat forced.

  “Well? I know it is nothing so grand as my room at the guild, nor, certainly, your family’s—”

  “It is wonderful. It is just like you,” he said quietly. Then he realized how that might sound, so he spoke hastily to correct himself. “I mean only that it is … it is warm, and beautiful, and does not seem to try too hard to be beautiful. Only that is not what I mean either, not at all. I …”

  He put his hand to his forehead. She must think him an utter fool—or a caustic-tongued ass. But she smiled and took his hand, and then gently kissed the back of its fingers. “There is my Ebon. I feared to see something different in your eyes—haughtiness, or disdain, once you saw how I lived. But you are just as tongue-tied as I feel.”

  Ebon laughed. “That is no compliment, yet I am glad to hear it from you.”

  She studied his eyes. “Is it only our meeting that occupies your thoughts? I have heard some dark whispers concerning the Academy.”

  He sighed. “They cannot be darker than the truth.” She waved him to the table before the window, and he sat. While she moved to fetch wine for him and mead for herself, he went on. “You remember what I told you of Isra. She has returned. We saw her within the Academy—Kalem and Theren and I, that is.”

  In the middle of pouring his wine, she froze, until he had to tip the bottle up to keep her from spilling it. “In the Academy, you say? Does that mean you are in danger?”

  “I certainly do not feel safe,” said Ebon, forcing a laugh. “That, along with our situation with Dasko …”

  “Have you thought of no way out of that?” said Adara. “It must weigh terribly on Theren.”

  “More and more every day,” said Ebon, lowering his gaze. “She will hardly even speak of it, and when she does she is short-tempered and irritable.”

  “Would you not be the same?”

  “I do not criticize her.” Said Ebon. “I wish there was a way I could help her. But if she releases him from mindwyrd, it will wear off. Then we do not know what would happen. He might remember us, and what we did. We know for certain that he would suffer, for the process of weaning off mindwyrd is very painful.”
/>   “Will it not get worse the longer she keeps him under control?” said Adara softly.

  “It will. But we know not what else to do.” Ebon’s eyes began to smart, and he swiped at them, trying to make it look as though he were scratching an itch. “Forgive me. This is a happy evening, and one for celebration. Yet I have spent most of it talking about myself, as I do too often. I even told myself not to do so, just before I saw you.”

  “Do not trouble yourself over that,” said Adara, giving him a little smile. “That is why you and I met in the first place, is it not? So that you might ease your burdens?”

  A slow grin spread across his face. “I suppose that was part of the reason.” But then he took her hands and grew solemn. “But now we are something more. The fact that I am here is proof of that. This is not for gold, and I do not want it to be. Tonight is not for me, but for us—or so I hope.”

  Her thumb rubbed the back of his palm. “So I hope as well.”

  He smiled and took a sip of his wine. But his eyes widened as soon as it touched his tongue, and he tilted the cup to look inside. “Stars and sky. Where did you get this?”

  She waved a hand airily. “Somewhere. Sometimes I receive gifts, and sometimes those gifts are wine, for my clients do not often ask me what I prefer to drink.” She gave him a secret smile, and he blushed. For a long while he, too, had assumed she liked wine, until he learned of her love for mead. “When that is the case, and when they do not wish to drink it with me immediately, I bring it here to save for a special occasion. Tonight is the first time I have opened one of the bottles I have saved.”

  “You must have a fine store, then.”

  Laughing, she slapped his wrist. “You will be well sated, you drunkard.”

  Though he chuckled, Ebon soon fixed her with a look. “Adara … there is something I meant to ask you tonight, ever since you first invited me here. Only I do not wish to give offense.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes grew careful. “Then is it wise to ask your question at all?”