Mageborn Page 7

  “You have no proof—”

  “Magic is dangerous,” he said, cutting her off. “It must be eliminated and if we do nothing, everyone will suffer.”

  Bettina crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, her expression souring even more. “And what would you suggest that the Regent should do?”

  He knew she was baiting him and just playing along, but he had waited all day and would not miss this opportunity to say it aloud. “Ban all Seekers from entering Zecorria. They are dangerous and they make children unstable. The number of children with magic will decline and they may disappear altogether. If any children are born with magic then let their families deal with it. They’ve done it that way for decades.”

  A nerve twitched in the side of Bettina’s face. She knew what he was talking about. It had been common twenty or more years ago. It normally involved drowning the child in a river, burning them at the stake or stoning them to death. Either that or they ran and were never seen again. Sometimes the parents were weak and the whole family packed up their belongings and left in the night. “You have no proof, just theories and paranoia,” said Bettina.

  “The threat is real,” insisted Habreel. He knew it was the truth. He felt it right down to the core of his being. In that moment, if he had believed in fate or prophecy, he would’ve said it spoke through him. “Magic will destroy us all. What happens if another mage goes rogue like the Warlock? Who will stop them? Do you want another war?”

  “Guard!” shouted Bettina, glaring at him. A moment later the door opened and one of the Royal Guards appeared. “Escort him to the gate.”

  Habreel wanted to say something more but he knew it would be pointless. He’d pushed her too far, too soon. She wasn’t ready to listen. By now stories of Seekers being banned in a few towns in Zecorria would have reached the palace, but he doubted such information had been passed on to the Regent. It was too soon.

  “Thank you for your time,” said Habreel, smiling at Bettina and leaving without an argument. The Guard kept an eye on him, as if expecting trouble, but he offered no resistance and even thanked her at the gate.

  By the time he made it back to the house he was renting, Habreel felt calm again. He’d been too eager. It was a small setback but it was certainly not the end.

  A few of his people were busy in the cramped room downstairs, writing letters and collating information from contacts across the west. Several of his most trusted allies were sowing seeds of their own, ramping up the existing fear of magic and Seekers. Dannel, one of his lieutenants, met him at the foot of the stairs.

  “She’s waiting for you upstairs,” he said with a sour twist of his mouth.

  Habreel patted him on the shoulder and went up to his office. Akosh was sitting in his chair behind the desk, idly playing with a dagger. She gave him a wolfish smile and gestured at the visitors’ seats in front, as if this was her office.

  “I take it by your delighted expression that it went well?”

  “It was too soon,” he admitted. “Next time they’ll be desperate and come to us.”

  Akosh put away her blade and leaned across the desk, as eager as a hunting dog pulling at its leash. “Is it my turn to play?”

  “Are you sure you can find one?” said Habreel.

  “Of course. As long as you hold up your end of the deal.”

  “You’ll get your money.”

  “Then I can find one,” Akosh leaned back in her chair, looking smug. “In fact I’ve got one all lined up. He’s young and impressionable and so desperate to please,” she said, licking her lips salaciously and giving him a wink.

  Habreel wasn’t aroused but he pitied the young man who would soon be the sole focus of her attention. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “How bad do you want it to be?” asked Akosh.

  “No children,” he insisted and Akosh pouted. “I mean it. And make sure a few adults survive. We need them to spread the word, remember?”

  “That will make it more difficult.”

  “I thought you liked a challenge?”

  “That’s true,” admitted Akosh.

  “The children will grow up hating Seekers and anything to do with magic. They’ll pass that message on to their children and so on. It will be the next two generations that shape the future.”

  “Give me a few days and I’ll get it done,” promised Akosh. “Have my money ready for when I get back.” She said it lightly but he heard the promise of steel in her words if he didn’t deliver.

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  “Not yet,” she admitted. “But I look forward to our conversation when it inevitably happens.”

  She sauntered around the desk and as she passed Habreel turned to watch her progress. Akosh glanced over her shoulder, fully aware that he was watching her rear. Habreel shrugged. He was only human after all and it didn’t hurt to look.

  A few minutes after she’d gone Dannel came up the stairs looking flustered. Akosh must have spoken to him. “We can’t trust her.”

  “I know, but we can use her, just as she’s using us for her own ends.”

  “We don’t know what she really wants. She’s dangerous.”

  Habreel could only agree. “True, but she’s a means to an end. Once she’s no longer useful then we’ll get rid of her.”

  “Do you mean kill her?”

  “I hope not,” said Habreel. “I would like to believe we could both walk away from this arrangement, but I doubt she takes rejection very well.”

  “But, how would we do it? Isn’t she—”

  “There are ways,” said Habreel, cutting him off. “That’s all you need to know. She’s only focused on tomorrow. What we’re doing will last for decades, perhaps even longer. Are you having doubts?”

  Dannel sat down and scrubbed a hand across his face. He had bags under his eyes and there was a touch more grey in his hair than Habreel remembered. “No, but it’s more challenging than I imagined.”

  “Anything worthwhile is difficult. I cherish every life, but if a few have to be sacrificed in order to save thousands, then so be it. There will be a price but I’m prepared to pay it.” Habreel was under no illusions. He knew some would think him mad or evil for what he was planning. One day they would come for him in the night but he was at peace with that. Future generations would remember him as a catalyst for change, perhaps eventually he would be called a hero. This was the only way to ensure that people remained free. If he did nothing it wouldn’t be long before they were all slaves to the Red Tower and its might. Magic had to be eliminated, once and for all time.

  CHAPTER 7

  Munroe’s arrival in the town of Morheaton in Yerskania passed without incident, which she hoped was a sign of things to come.

  She wore no unusual clothing, had not asked any questions and arrived mid-afternoon along with several other travellers. After securing a room in the nicest of the three taverns, she decided to explore the town.

  The Seeker had apparently disappeared without a trace but she was confident one of the locals knew what had happened. Now all she had to do was find out who was responsible without killing anyone, unless it was absolutely necessary and couldn’t be avoided. It was going to be a challenge.

  Morheaton was set high in the hills, half a day’s ride from the main road, making it fairly remote. It was surrounded by miles of rolling peaks and valleys where the locals grazed their huge flocks of sheep. Standing in the middle of town she could see and hear them on the hills even though they were miles away. As she walked around Munroe saw no fewer than four shops selling woollen clothing and because of the cool weather all were busy with passing trade.

  People went about their business, working in the quarry, felling trees or tending their sheep. Merchants haggled with shopkeepers over the price of meat, timber and wool. Everything seemed normal. She even saw groups of children running around playing a game. The only thing that slightly worried Munroe was the nature of the game.

  As a girl she’d p
layed Lurgy, where one person pretended to have an awful disease. All they had to do was catch someone else to spread it and the game ended when everyone was “infected.” The children in Morheaton were playing something similar, but in their game the odd one out pretended they had magic.

  After eating her evening meal in the tavern, Munroe relaxed at her table nursing a glass of wine. The room was full with locals and travellers mostly consisting of merchants, their Drassi guards and a few craftsmen. Much to her surprise none of the men in the room tried to chat her up and take her to bed. She wondered if she was losing her touch. Maybe they could tell that she was married.

  No one seemed to be on edge. There were no nervous glances or sly looks her way when people thought she wasn’t watching. No one was particularly unfriendly and yet Munroe felt an awful prickling across her scalp. She’d come to trust her instincts and right now they were warning her that something was very wrong at the heart of Morheaton.

  Not one person, in any conversation, ever mentioned magic or Seekers. Not once. Even now, ten years on, people still talked about the war and the Battlemages who were involved. Everyone loved hearing stories of bravery and tales of wonder where the Battlemages made the impossible a reality. Stories of Titan holding back an army by himself. Eloise rising from the dead and healing herself. Or Balfruss breaking the earth in his final battle with the Warlock. At the very least someone here would have lost a friend or family member during the war. She would even have preferred a negative reaction and an argument about magic compared to this absence. The room was utterly silent on the subject. It was as if the war had never reached the town.

  As the night wore on it was becoming increasingly obvious that magic was taboo by its very omission. When Munroe tried asking some general questions about the war at the bar, the owner, a gangly man with one droopy eyelid, didn’t even reply. He simply put his glass down and went into the back room.

  “What’s his problem?” asked Munroe, nudging the person beside her. The man in question was a burly fellow with the weather-beaten face of someone who spent his life outdoors. He smelled fairly ripe and his boots were covered in mud and sheep shit.

  “He doesn’t like strangers,” slurred the shepherd.

  “That’s not good for someone who runs a tavern.”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t like your face.”

  “But my face is lovely,” said Munroe, fluttering her eyelashes at the man. “Who wouldn’t want to spend time with me? I’m adorable.”

  “I like you, girl,” said the man, slapping her on the shoulder hard enough to nearly unseat her. “If I wasn’t married and twice your age, I’d buy you a drink.”

  “If you were half your age and twice as handsome, then I might let you.”

  The shepherd laughed so hard he bought her a drink anyway. After an hour of talking to Murray, her new best friend, she knew far too much about the lives of various people in Morheaton. She knew about one family with a teenage boy that wouldn’t stop stealing. She knew which farmers were arguing about land boundaries and grazing rights, and she knew how the local apothecary had been getting a bit too friendly with the wife of his neighbour. And yet there was not one word about the war, Seekers or children being born with magic.

  “So, Murray,” said Munroe, feeling safe enough to ask him something more important. “Have you had a Seeker come around here?”

  Murray put his drink down on the bar and his shoulders slumped. “Now why did you have to spoil things by asking that?”

  “It’s just a question.”

  “Fine, but I’m not talking.”

  “We had one come to our town a while back,” said Munroe. “He took two teenage girls away with him to the Red Tower.”

  “Good riddance.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Munroe.

  Murray opened his mouth to say something else but then changed his mind. He glared at Munroe then focused on his drink. The room behind them was still full of noise but now she had the distinct impression someone was watching her. She could feel their eyes on her back as she had an awful itch between her shoulders. Murray drained the last of his beer and went out of the door without saying another word.

  A short while later another man sat down on the vacant stool, but this one smelled much better than its former occupant. From the corner of her eye Munroe could see his hands were smooth and without cracks or calluses. When the barman finally made an appearance he ordered an expensive wine instead of cheap beer.

  “My name is Burelle and I’m the Mayor of Morheaton. I make it my business to know who is visiting my town and why. This is a peaceful place and I’d like to keep it that way.” Munroe expected him to threaten her next. Instead he sniffed his wine before swirling it around the glass.

  If anyone stuck out in the room as a sore thumb it was Burelle. The locals were hardy folk who mostly worked outdoors. Burelle was plump with rosy cheeks and a thick nose covered with broken veins, probably from too much wine. His clothes were finely tailored and his silk shirt probably cost more than most people in Morheaton earned in a month. Even his silvery hair was finely coiffed, flowing away from his face and down to his shoulders in waves.

  Burelle drained his glass in a few gulps and gestured at the barman for another.

  “That makes sense,” said Munroe, realising he was just going to wait until she said something. “If I was Mayor I’d want to know who was visiting my town.”

  “I’m not sure who sent you, but I know why you’re here.” Burelle seemed incredibly confident given that they’d just met.

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes,” said Burelle, favouring her with a wry smile. “There’s nothing here for you to find. You should just move on in the morning.”

  Munroe sat back in her chair, the very picture of someone at ease. “I’ve nowhere to be in a hurry.”

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  “I like it here. As you said, it’s so peaceful. In fact, a friend of mine visited Morheaton, not long ago.”

  “I haven’t seen him,” snapped Burelle.

  “That’s strange,” said Munroe tapping her lips with one finger. “A minute ago you said you make it your business to know about who visits this backwater shithole.”

  Burelle sneered. “What did he look like?”

  “It was a woman. She was very distinctive. You’d definitely remember her. She wore a long robe, gloves and had a gold mask.”

  “I never saw her,” said Burelle, far too quickly.

  “She came through here at least once a month. In fact, she was here only a couple of weeks ago.”

  It wasn’t a warm night and yet Burelle was sweating. He mopped at his hairline with the sleeve of his expensive coat, staining the material.

  Burelle stubbornly shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “Now we both know you’re lying. The last time she was here, I heard she took two children with her to the Red Tower.”

  “Whatever you’ve been told it isn’t true. We don’t have any of that filth around here,” he said, slamming his empty glass on the bar. Conversation still flowed around the room but now Munroe felt several pairs of eyes watching her and Burelle. “You should leave and never come back. You don’t belong here.”

  As Burelle walked towards the door Munroe looked over her shoulder. Most of the locals were still talking, but many were watching the rich Mayor with hatred and resentment.

  Dressing all in black and sneaking out of her room via the window took Munroe back a few years. The last time she’d done something like this it had been as part of her initiation to join the Silent Order. Allegedly centuries old, the mysterious league of assassins was responsible for the death of many rulers, changing the fate of entire countries. Unfortunately her trial hadn’t gone to plan as her innate magic had caused a few incidents, such as accidentally burning down a house. But all of that was behind her now and it had eventually led to better things, like studying at the Red Tower and marrying Choss.
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  Peering down into the street below she could see the common room was in darkness but lights showed in a few of the other windows to either side of her. Moving as quietly as possible to avoid drawing attention to herself, Munroe swung her legs out into mid-air. Placing her hands and feet securely before putting any weight on them, she slowly descended to the ground.

  That was the easy part. Not for the first time Munroe wished she’d been able to master camouflaging herself with magic. She’d tried for six months but the subtlety of it evaded her. For now she would just have to rely on more traditional methods for going unnoticed, together with a little of her own style of magic.

  It was well after midnight and the whole town was asleep. The streets were empty and almost all of the houses were silent. Candles burned in a few windows but these were few and far between, making them easy to avoid. Anyone who did glance out of their window would only see a dark shadow flitting by. She’d had the forethought to bring a long black scarf which she’d tied around her hair and face.

  During the day Munroe had studied the layout so it didn’t take her long to find the Mayor’s house. It was significantly bigger and more ostentatious than the others, more evidence that Burelle was lining his pockets. Much to her relief there was a light in one window, but a few minutes later it was extinguished. Munroe settled in, hoping that she hadn’t arrived just in time to see Burelle go to sleep. If there was no movement in an hour she planned to go to bed herself and try again tomorrow night.