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  A short time later she heard a door open and close and the sound of receding footsteps. Flitting from one shadow to the next Munroe followed at a distance, always staying just within earshot. She never moved to where she could see Burelle, but she guessed it was him by the heavy steps and breathlessness. If it wasn’t him, then the man she was following was equally unfit.

  There was a brief murmur of conversation and then a door closed. As she peered around the final corner Munroe was faced with a row of silent and dark houses. There was no movement inside any of the buildings on either side of the street. Staying calm she sneaked around the back of one line of houses, looking for lights and listening for conversation. When she crossed the street and slipped behind the other side it was easy to spot which was occupied. They’d done their best to conceal the light with heavy curtains across the window, but with no other sources of light even a tiny crack was nearly blinding.

  Even though Munroe knew she was missing part of the conversation, she approached with caution. She may not have passed all the tests required to join the Silent Order, but she’d learned the lessons well. It was far better to hear a little and escape with her life than be caught by rushing in.

  Climbing over numerous objects she couldn’t see, and stepping in things she didn’t want to identify, Munroe inched closer. The murmur of conversation swelled until she was close enough to hear the voices.

  “—going to find out what we did with the Seeker. It’s only a matter of time,” someone was saying. The man had a whiny voice that immediately grated on her nerves.

  “Calm down,” said Burelle. “She doesn’t know anything. Did you do everything we talked about?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then there’s nothing to find. There’s no body.”

  There was a long, pregnant pause before a new female voice joined the conversation. “She’s not the only one snooping around.”

  “What?” asked Burelle.

  “There’s another stranger in town. One who doesn’t belong with the usual crowd of visitors.”

  “Have they been asking questions?”

  “No,” admitted the woman, “but it doesn’t smell right. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Neither do I,” said Burelle. “So, we stick to the plan.”

  “What if she doesn’t leave? If she stays here long enough, someone will talk.”

  “Then it will be their word against ours,” said Burelle. “There’s no proof, remember?”

  Munroe had heard more than enough. The conversation wasn’t over but she knew it was time to leave.

  Just as she was starting to turn away someone grabbed her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth. Their other arm went around her waist and both squeezed tight before she had a chance to scream.

  CHAPTER 8

  Wren came awake slowly. At first all she could feel was the bed. It was soft and the sheets were warm and smelled of jasmine. As she took a deep breath the aromas of fresh bread and something spicy tickled her nose. Her stomach growled and a fierce hunger seized her body, forcing her eyes open.

  “Easy, girl,” said a rough voice. She tried to sit up but her arms were so weak they wouldn’t bear her weight. Someone gently helped her sit up, before easing her back against some pillows.

  It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light but eventually Wren could see. She was lying in a small room that contained only a bed, a table with a tray of food and a chair. The room was flooded with sunlight from behind her but Wren couldn’t see a window. The wall looked like solid stone and yet it glowed. The only door into the room was made of dark metal that was covered with unusual symbols which seemed to be moving. After a few seconds the writhing glyphs started to give her a headache.

  “Don’t look at them too long,” said Garvey, setting the tray of food down on her lap. There was big bowl of some kind of stew and some thick slices of bread smeared with butter. “Eat,” he said and Wren didn’t wait. She tore into the bread and started dipping it into the stew.

  “Am I a prisoner?” she asked, around a mouthful of stew. It was chicken and vegetable and a bit too spicy for her taste, but she was famished and didn’t complain.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Garvey. She noticed he had heavy bags under his eyes and his beard was wild and unkempt.

  “The bare walls. The plain furniture. The thick door. Magic wards, perhaps.”

  “Well, at least there’s been no permanent damage to your head,” he said, not answering her question. She had the impression that was his way. He asked much but told people little. Perhaps she had to earn the answers. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Wren paused, the spoon halfway to her mouth. “There was a boy in the dormitory. He wanted me to fight him. He kept beating me and then I blacked out.”

  Garvey grunted. Turning his face towards the bright wall he closed his eyes. He seemed to be soaking up the light like a cat warming itself in a sunbeam.

  “Students have been duelling in the dormitories since before I came here as a boy. It’s against the rules and we dissuade students, but it still happens. The strong always want to test themselves.”

  “Can’t you stop it?”

  “We can’t watch you every hour of every day. This is a school, not a prison.”

  Wren wiped the bottom of the bowl with her last slice of bread. “And yet this is a cell,” she noted.

  Garvey finally relented. “It used to be. Now it’s a quiet room for convalescence. The door is open if you want to walk out.” They both knew she barely had the energy to sit upright never mind walk unaided. “Your strength will return. Healing takes something from both people. Your body needs plenty of food to rebuild itself.”

  “Did you heal me?” asked Wren.

  “No. My abilities lie in other areas.” She noticed again he didn’t say what those areas were. “I’ll send for some more food. You should be able to go back to the dormitory tomorrow.” Garvey got up and moved towards the door.

  “What about that boy?” asked Wren.

  “What about him?”

  “Is he in a cell?”

  He paused and turned around, leaning against the doorframe. “No.”

  A seed of dread formed in the pit of Wren’s stomach. She had to clear her throat twice before she managed to ask “Is he dead?”

  Garvey considered it and a worrying smile crossed his face. The seed blossomed and fresh tendrils made her flesh break out in goosebumps. “Do you think the Grey Council would do something like that?” he asked. Wren wasn’t sure. From what she knew about the others she didn’t think they would do such a thing. However, Tianne had said he wasn’t a good man and her first impression about him being cruel had not changed. “Do you think I would?” he asked.

  “No,” she lied.

  Garvey’s smile unnerved her more than the writhing symbols on the door. “No, the boy isn’t dead. We’ve spoken to him about what happened. We don’t think he’ll attack you again.” He didn’t sound certain or that he particularly cared.

  “What should I do if he does?”

  The smile vanished. “You have two choices, Wren. Let him continue to bully you or fight back.”

  Garvey seemed to be waiting for her to say something. Perhaps this was a test. “What if he’s stronger than me?”

  That unsettling smile returned and he came back into the room and sat down again. Suddenly Wren felt uncomfortable with him being so close. She was also conscious that they were alone. If she screamed would anyone hear her?

  “You won’t know how strong he is until you fight back. But, really, that doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  Garvey shook his head slowly. “The old Grey Council lied. One of the first things they used to tell new students was that a mage’s strength never changes over time. It can and it does. If you push yourself to the limit and then go beyond, just a little, you can stretch your ability. Over time the amount of power you can channel from
the Source will grow.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “If you push yourself too hard, you will die. Most likely you’ll explode.” Garvey sounded indifferent to the idea.

  “Are you saying it’s worth the risk?”

  Garvey looked disappointed by her question. “If you were a prisoner held in chains, would you sit back and wait to die, or would you try to break them?” Before she could answer he walked towards the door again. “You have to decide. Are you happy to live under someone’s boot heel?”

  “What if I die?” asked Wren.

  Garvey paused with his back to her. Wren couldn’t see his face but felt that somehow she’d let him down again. “Then you die. It’s better than being a slave.”

  He went out of the door, leaving Wren with only the writhing symbols for company.

  She spent the rest of the day sleeping and waking up to find trays of food had been left for her. Wren wasn’t sure she would be able to eat all of it, but every time she had a few mouthfuls it wasn’t long before she had cleared the plate. Her first day at the Red Tower had not been the one she’d hoped for, but at least the food was tasty.

  Thinking of her father and his approach, Wren tried to see the positives of her situation. The Grey Council were aware of the bully and had already warned Brunwal, so perhaps he wouldn’t risk another fight. Then again he seemed to think the rules didn’t apply to him. Next her father would tell her to simply ignore the bully, but that wouldn’t help either if he attacked her a second time.

  She could hear people moving around in the corridor and had the impression that if she cried out someone would be there, but they left her alone to rest. If she claimed to still be in pain they might let her stay in the hospital for another day or two. But pretending to be ill would only delay the inevitable, not make the problem go away.

  With nothing else to do when she was awake Wren thought about what Garvey had told her. She had come to the school to learn, not be intimidated by an ignorant boy. He was responsible for missing her first day in a classroom and Wren did not want to miss any more.

  A few times she tentatively reached for the Source, feeling its power flood her body, which made her feel slightly drunk. It also made the underlying fatigue vanish and her senses became more acute. It allowed her to hear the whisper of a person’s sandals as they roamed the corridor, checking on other patients. She could feel their presence as well. Their connection to the Source created an echo in her mind.

  Deep beneath her, in the earth and all around, Wren felt something else. Magic that was both alien and familiar. It was older and far stronger than anything she’d ever known. Reaching towards it with her senses she saw the glyphs on the door of her room start to glow. The moment she stopped they faded and the sense of the other magic in her mind vanished. Wren glanced again at the solid wall behind her and knew that she was inside the Red Tower itself. It was the source of the ancient and peculiar magic.

  Late at night, after another meal, she drowsed and thought about tomorrow. They would put her back in the dormitory and Brunwal would be there. She doubted that being reprimanded by the Grey Council would cower him for long. He might pretend it had worked and claim to be sorry, but instinct told her it wouldn’t last.

  She was alone. Her father couldn’t help her now and, as Garvey had said, the Grey Council couldn’t watch over them all day and night. It was up to her to fight back or be crushed.

  In Drassia a girl was treated as an adult at sixteen. With the emergence of her magic, Wren’s special birthday had gone unnoticed. It seemed as if here in Shael she was also expected to deal with her own problems.

  Wren embraced the Source and drew power into herself. Its infinite warmth filled her being until she felt as if her skin was stretched tight across her body. Slowly, she reached for a little more, testing her limit. Her head swam and she felt sick, even lying in bed. Letting go was a relief and she felt sweat trickling down the sides of her face from the effort.

  Twice more she tried and each time felt as if the limit of her ability was impermeable. It was possible Garvey had told her a lie, but that seemed far-fetched. Even if he didn’t have her best interests in mind, she trusted that his knowledge of the Source was greater than her own.

  Gritting her teeth in determination Wren took a deep breath and readied herself. She had not travelled all this way, and lost everything in her life, only to be defeated by an idiotic bully in her first week.

  She tried one final time, channelling power until she could barely breathe. Until her lungs felt swollen and her vision blurred. Until she felt as if she was a hair’s breadth from death. She pictured a cell and chains holding her in place. The chains could be broken and she would be free. All she had to do was hold on and push just a little bit more.

  The room whirled around her but she gripped the sides of the bed and held on as if amidships during a storm. The Source thrummed in her veins, a loud drumbeat in sync with the pounding of her heart. She teetered on the threshold and reached for just a little more. Wren realised she was holding her breath but couldn’t stop herself. There was a stretching sensation and then a spike of agony in her mind.

  With a loud gasp of air she let go of it all and collapsed onto her pillow, drenched in sweat. Eventually her breathing slowed and exhaustion flooded her body. Sleep pulled at her and before she fell into the black Wren didn’t know if she’d achieved anything or not. Tomorrow would be the real test.

  By mid-afternoon the following day Wren was allowed to return to the dormitory. Her physical strength was fully restored and the intense hunger had faded. She spent a few hours nervously reading some books that had been left on her bed before the other students began to return.

  Danoph and Tianne greeted her warmly and she sat with them in the dining hall. Tianne talked almost non-stop the entire time, updating her on what she had missed which seemed like very little of worth. Garvey had been tough in his class, as usual, pushing them all so hard that three students had fainted. No one had seen Balfruss for a few days, suggesting he was away on a mission for the Tower and Eloise remained busy running the school. Tianne commented that she never seemed to stop and was seen at all hours, organising people to make sure everything ran smoothly. Apart from that Tianne had only rumours about Seekers going missing.

  Wren appreciated her enthusiasm and attempt to keep the conversation flowing, but a dark cloud hung over all of them. Danoph said very little as well, but she saw him watching the other students with a thoughtful expression. Across the room Brunwal and his group of six friends were having a loud conversation peppered with coarse laughter. She expected him to leer or look in her direction, but he seemed to be ignoring her. Despite his apparent indifference as time wore on she was filled with a growing sense of dread.

  When they returned to the dormitory Wren used the washroom as normal but climbed into bed fully clothed. Modesty seemed unimportant when her life was at risk, but she couldn’t help it. The lanterns were doused on schedule and a few minutes later some of the students created lights of their own. Lying in the gloom with her eyes closed, Wren waited for the inevitable.

  A few times she nearly fell asleep and had to force herself awake or pinch her skin. If he came for her tonight Brunwal would not catch her unawares. Perhaps an hour passed before she sensed someone approaching. An intense echo of power told her a student nearby was embracing the Source. Cracking one eye open she saw Brunwal stalking towards her, flanked as ever by his group of friends.

  Wren rolled out of bed and waited with her back against the bunk beds. A crowd began to form and conversations trickled away until silence filled the entire dormitory.

  Brunwal stared at her with disdain but said nothing. His friends made jokes and urged him to beat her again and teach her a lesson. Some made crude remarks and Brunwal finally smiled, sizing her up in a way that made her skin crawl.

  She knew there was no honour here. He was brutish and ignorant. Subtlety would be meaningless against one so
blunt.

  Not waiting for him to attack Wren embraced the Source and lashed out. There was no art to her attack. It was simply a solid block of force shaped by her will.

  A wall slammed into Brunwal, throwing him backwards and scattering his friends. He skidded across the floor until this time he collided with the far wall. Dazed but unhurt he quickly got to his feet and tried to retaliate with his own magic.

  Despite being a student at the school for much longer than Wren it seemed as if he’d learned very little. The physical manifestation of a person’s magic was the basest use of power from the Source. Instead of creating anything complex, Brunwal simply pushed with his magic, trying to outmuscle her.

  Wren drew more power from the Source and met his attack full on. There was a loud crack as their magic collided and it became a battle of will. Brunwal cursed and spat as he strained against her. On her peripheral vision Wren could see other students watching and cheering her on. Some were taking bets and she saw money changing hands. Many of them must have seen Brunwal do this before with other students. Perhaps he had attacked them as well in his attempt to prove his dominance. Only his friends were supporting him, but their voices were lost amid the din. Noise and movement flickered all around, but in front of her Brunwal was perfectly still.

  Sweat started to run down his face from the strain. He fell silent, no longer having the energy for curses, and she sensed him drawing more power from the Source. The air crackled between them as she matched his strength, rendering another stalemate. No matter how hard he pushed he couldn’t move her, not even a little.

  As he struggled against her, Wren became aware of two things. First that Brunwal was at the limit of his ability, unable to channel any more power, and, second, that he was afraid. He was throwing everything he had against her and it wasn’t enough. Her strength was significantly greater than his. She could feel him trying to reach for more, clawing and stretching, but they both knew even a drop more would be fatal.

  Wren thrust her open hands towards Brunwal and his feet came off the floor. His connection to the Source evaporated as he hung in the air, choking for breath. She watched his face turn red and then purple as he clawed at the invisible noose she’d fastened around his neck. Pointing at his chest she flung him against the wall where he stayed, his feet dangling off the ground, gulping in air. All cheering had stopped. The dormitory was silent except for his choking. Wren eased the noose a little, allowing him some air.