Magic Steps - Пирс Тамора - Страница 23

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The: image of Pasco dancing to call up fish rose in her' mind… "Isn't there something else you could do?" inquired Sandry, her note forgotten, "Call him to you, if you have some piece of him?"

Wulfric shook his head. It don't work that way. People don't want to regain whatever part of themselves they've lost—unless it's a limb. I could do it if he'd left a hand or foot behind. Otherwise it's the part that wants to go back where it came: from, blood or hair or so on. Spelled right, and put in a kind of compass, I'll hunt this lot to their lair." His grin broadened unpleasantly. "Then they'll answer for what they've done."

With the arrival of their supplies, the four mages—Sandry, Wulfric, and his two assistants—got to work. Wulfric and Behazin mixed the oils and called on their powers for attraction. While they did, Lieutenant Ulrina cut fresh squares so precise that Sandry knew she had spent hours learning to do just that, as Sandry herself had learned to make squares and circles. Once the mixed oil was ready, Sandry applied it to every fiber of her squares, and Ulrina treated the new ones.

When everything was ready, the assistants took a pile of cloths and headed for the site of the stable fire. Like Wulfric, they had spelled lenses that would help them to see the dark smears, now that they knew what to look for. Their job was to see if the fire had been set by an accomplice—, "Elsewise," Behazin informed Sandry, "it's just too convenient" — and to gather up all the unmagic that he'd left there.

"Too much to hope the accomplice got hurt and is bleeding, too," Wulfric remarked, watching his assistants hurry off. "Still, no sense in overlooking the chance."

He and Sandry began to gather up the spots that Sandry had already covered. They worked their way back from Silver Street, entering the Rokat house and tracing the killer’s movements inside. They did not enter the nursery. Instead they followed the set of tracks that led into that room on up to the roof, and to the building next door. They backtracked the killer further still, across a succession of rooftops. The trail led to another stable, down through a loft, and out onto the street, where it ended in a pool of unmagic.

"End of the road," Wulfric said gloomily. "Here's where our killer at least got all bespelled. I'm betting an accomplice set the stable fire, but he wasn't magicked here. If he'd been, his prints would be here, too."

"We'd better get all of this," Sandry remarked. She sent a goggling boy to a nearby draper's for a silk sheet, and paid him and the draper well.

That seemed to amuse Wulfric. "Provost's work's easier with you around, my lady," he told her as they waited for the sheet to soak up all of the unmagic. "If it'd been just us harriers, we'd've had to send back to the coop, and explain the expense to bookkeepers. With you it's we need it? Here it is. Let's get on with the job."

"I'm glad you're pleased," she retorted. She was tired. Only when she felt herself reaching for her friends did she realize they had fallen into the habit of borrowing strength from each other. No matter how hardworked any of them might be, at least one of the others would be rested and strong. Now she couldn't do that, and she missed it.

"I'm as grateful as I am amused, my lady," Wulfric said quietly. "Every time you make something like this a bit easier, that gives us more time and strength to deal with the real problems."

With the pool cleaned up, they returned to the Rokat house. Now they had to face that nursery. Though she wished that she could leave Wulfric to do this bit, Sandry knew she could not. The unmagic had to be cleared from the room so Wulfric could get information about the killer, and so that she would not have the creeping sense that it might blight anyone who touched it. Another team of harrier-mages, with lenses like those carried by Wulfric and his assistants, got orders to inspect every Guard who had entered the house. Those who showed marks were to be held until Wulfric could cleanse them. During the afternoon he'd told Sandry that Winding Circle's mages were working on something to get the stuff off human flesh harmlessly; clothes could be burned.

The blood-stink in the nursery was as bad as it had been in Jamar Rokat's office. Sandry told herself to be grateful that the bodies had been removed, but long splashes and puddles of blood told their own nightmare story. The pool of it in the crib was the hardest to bear.

By the time they were finished, long shadows told her that night was coming on. Sandry was so weary she could hardly see as they left the house for what she devoutly hoped would be the last time.

Wulfric beckoned to Oama and Kwaben, who had spent the afternoon at the barrier, helping to keep out the curious. "Take her home," he told them as they brought the horses. "She's done good service for the realm today." He helped her up behind Kwaben, Oama would lead the horse Sandry was too exhausted to ride. "Don't you worry, Lady Sandry," Wulfric said. "Soon as I extract that blood from the unmagic, we'll be on these murdering animals like red on roses." He grinned fiercely and patted Kwaben's horse on the rump, sending them on their way.

Sandry napped during the ride to Duke's Citadel, but the clatter of metal on stone woke her. They were passing through the tunnel that was the short cut between the Arsenal and the palace. The noise did not end or even, lessen once they rode through the outer curtain wall, which confused her. She looked, around, bleary-eyed. Each of the baileys was ringed with torches, and there seemed to be an incredible traffic of wagons and, people on horseback She expected it to get quieter as they passed, through the protective walls, but instead the noise grew. The innermost courtyard, before the main residence was littered with animals, people, and bag gage. She even, heard babies crying.

"Kwaben?" she asked, peering around the Guardsman's back. "Where did all these people come from?"

He dismounted. When she slid from her seat, she staggered and would have fallen if Kwaben hadn't scooped her up in his arms. "I'm fine, you know," she told him sleepily.

She thought she saw a trace of a smile on his normally expressionless face. "You just can't stand up, my lady."

"What is this?" demanded Erdogun's familiar voice. "Is she ill? Make way, you people!"

Sandry roused. Here came her uncle with the baron. They were frowning. "Its all right, Uncle," Sandry assured the duke. "I've been working magic, and I'm a little tired. Didn't you get my note?"

"I got it,” the duke said grimly. "Bring her inside," he ordered Kwaben. Turning, he bellowed, "Take these people in, now! Their goods may come later, but get them into quarters! Once they're in, put that barricade up!"

Two colonels, one in the uniform of the Dukes Guard, one in the uniform of the Provost's Guard, rode up to the duke and saluted. "We're ready, your grace," the Duke's Guard said.

"Then go to the city and relieve the day watches in the Mire and East District," the duke commanded. "My orders remain the same. I want those districts turned out for anyone who might be these killers. A house-to-house search, understood? Your people are under the authority of the coop commanders in each subdistrict. If we need additional help, send for it. Make sure watches are put on the sewers, in case they try to escape that way. Now go!"

"You see what kind of mischief he gets up to, when you're not here?" Erdogun muttered to Sandry.

She tried to sit up in Kwaben's hold. "Uncle," she said, raising her voice, "this does not look like resting to me."

He came back and laid a hand on her arm. "I will rest once these Rokats are safely housed in the inner keep," he told her. "It's the oldest part of the Citadel, one that's been spelled and respelled for protection for eight hundred years. Once I wake the magics, they will be safe until these murderers are caught."

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