Chapter 25

“I thought you’d be happier,” Corec said. He and Katrin had been walking for five minutes without speaking, after Barz had headed off in a different direction to find his friends. The sky had turned gray as the sun set, but there was still enough light to see by. Businesses that remained open after dark were lighting the oil lamps that hung near their entrances.

“So did I,” she said. “I came home, Barz is out of prison, and Felix didn’t get lost on the road somewhere. I feel like everything should have gone back to normal now, but it didn’t. I was hoping Barz would be happy for me—he always said I should meet someone and settle down, but now that I’m planning to, he’s changed his mind.”

“Or he just doesn’t like me.”

“He’s scared of you. Thieves learn early on not to mess with fighting men.” She grinned at him. “And not just because they don’t have any money. A noble with a dueling sword, maybe, if you think you can get away with it, but a man with well-used armor and a real weapon? It’s not worth the risk.”

Corec nodded. “Maybe he’ll get used to me in time. But that reminds me ... remember that inn from the first night we ran into each other?”

“Yes.”

“When I came back a few days later, the innkeeper told me that some baron’s son had lost his coin purse. Was that you?”

She snickered. “He deserved it. He kept grabbing my ass. I’m pretty sure his father hired one of his bodyguards to protect other people from him, and I got the purse away while they were arguing with each other. That was only about three of the ten gold Felix made off with—Daddy must not have been very generous with the purse strings.”

There were still people on the streets but the crowds had thinned out, giving Corec a good view when two men dressed in rough clothing stepped into an intersection ahead of them, pointing loaded crossbows at a dwarven man and a short woman.

Both men shot, and there was a flash of light.

“That looked like my shield spell,” Corec said.

“They hit him!” Katrin exclaimed.

As they watched, the dwarf sank to his knees, a crossbow bolt in his gut. The girl drew a sword, but before she could attack, three more men stepped in front of her, drawing weapons of their own. The girl flung her hand out and a white light struck one of the new men, knocking him to the ground.

Corec didn’t know what was going on between the two groups, but one side had ambushed the other without warning. His combat spells snapped into place before he’d realized it, and he drew his sword as he ran forward. He reached the intersection and kept running, barreling into one of the crossbowmen and knocking him down, then stomping on the crossbow to break it.

“Hey! What’s going on?” he shouted, not wanting to kill anyone without knowing why the others were fighting.

Nobody answered him, and the second crossbowman had reloaded. The man shot, and Corec’s barrier shield flared to life as the bolt bounced off. The barrier stayed up, and Corec swung his sword down, chopping deeply into the man’s wrist and knocking the crossbow to the ground. As the man stared in shock at the blood gushing from his arm, Corec punched him in the nose. He staggered back, falling to the ground with a thump. Corec left him there—perhaps he’d live if someone stopped the bleeding soon.

The other two men were still trying to attack the woman. Now that Corec was closer, he could see the pointed ears marking her as an elf—silver elf, judging by the hair tied back behind her head. She wielded a slender rapier, but was just barely able to stay out of reach of her two attackers, one stabbing at her with an arming sword while the other tried to hit her with a cudgel. Her two attackers were human, but the man she’d hit with the spell was another silver elf. He wasn’t moving.

Corec tried one last time, yelling at the attackers to stop, but again they ignored him. The girl tripped over something, falling backward, and the man with the sword moved in for the kill, so Corec charged forward, running him through from behind, his own sword easily piercing the thin leather armor the man was wearing.

While Corec tried to pull his blade free from the swordsman’s ribs, the one with the cudgel whirled toward him. Before the attacker could strike, three darts of bright light shot from the girl’s fingertips and hit him in the face. As he cried out in shock, she sprung back to her feet and stabbed him through the heart in one smooth motion.

Corec heard Katrin singing behind him, and spun to see that the first crossbowman had gotten back to his feet and pulled a dagger. Katrin stood facing him, still singing. The man swayed, his eyes going out of focus as he lost his grip on his weapon. Katrin gripped her own dagger and stabbed him in the throat.

As he fell and bled out, she turned to Corec with a sad look in her eyes. “I couldn’t have held him much longer, and he was trying to kill you.”

Corec nodded, then pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. There’d be time later to ask her how she’d done it.

He turned back to the elf. “Are you all right?”

The woman’s eyes darted around at the carnage, then focused on her friend. “Boktar!”

The dwarf had slumped onto his side during the fight. He managed to move his hand and grunt, but didn’t say anything.

The girl looked back at Corec, a crazed look on her face. “What are you doing to me?” she shouted.

“What do you mean? I’m not doing anything! I just tried to help you!” Corec kept his sword ready, in case she attacked him next. Perhaps he’d picked the wrong side.

“You’re casting a spell! How are you casting a spell without speaking?”

“I’m not casting a spell!”

He was wondering how to explain the magic he’d used earlier when he noticed a very faint shifting in the back of his mind. It reminded him of how he felt when he cast his shield barrier or the new armor spell, but those had always been very obvious to him. This new feeling was subtle. He almost hadn’t noticed it, but once he did, it felt somehow familiar.

Too late, he realized what was happening. Just as his left arm started to itch, a group of city guards fanned out around them.

“Everyone, drop your weapons! You’re all under arrest!”

Katrin dropped her dagger, trying hard not to think about what she’d just done. She’d sung the man to his own death, dazing him with her bardic abilities long enough that she’d been able to stab him. Everything about it seemed wrong.

Next to her, Corec slowly crouched down to place his sword on the ground.

The silver elf looked around, panicked, and tightened her grip on her rapier. “They did it!” she said, pointing to the men on the ground. “I was just defending myself!”

“Elle!” the dwarf said, coughing but trying to prop himself up. “Don’t argue with them! Do what they say.”

“Drop the sword!” the guardsman shouted.

“He’s hurt!” she exclaimed as she let go of the rapier. “He needs a healer!”

“We’ll find one if we can,” the guardsman replied.

“We know a healer,” Corec said. “Send for Treya, at the Three Orders chapter house.” He spoke in the authoritative tone of voice that he so seldom used. Katrin thought it sounded good on him.

The man stared at Corec for a moment, evaluating him, then motioned to the other guards to take everyone into custody.

Twenty minutes later, Katrin and the elf were in a jail cell at the city’s southern guard post. Women’s cells were kept separate from the men’s cells, so she couldn’t see Corec, and she didn’t know what had happened to the dwarf. The guard who’d put them in the cell had said someone would be by to speak to them later, and the man stationed in the room refused to talk.

The elf girl, who’d introduced herself as Ellerie, was pacing back and forth, occasionally scratching at her forehead. “Why won’t they tell me how Boktar’s doing?”

“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Katrin said. “They probably just need time to find a healer.” She hoped she sounded encouraging.

The girl stopped pacing and stared at her. “What did your friend do to me?” she hissed, keeping her voice down so the guard wouldn’t overhear.

Katrin took off her hat—unlike the jail in Tyrsall, this one hadn’t taken it from her. The elf’s eyes were immediately drawn to her rune.

“I’m sorry,” Katrin said. “It was an accident. We’re trying to figure out how to keep it from happening again. It’s some sort of binding spell, but we’re not sure why it’s happening or how to stop it.”

“That’s a binding sigil?”

“Yes. It doesn’t seem to do anything bad. We can always tell what direction Corec is in and he can always tell what direction we’re in. That’s all it does; it won’t hurt you.”

“We?”

“There are three of us. Your head will itch for about a week and a half, then the rune will show up. Corec will have a matching one on his arm.”

Ellerie stopped scratching. “That’s why my head started itching?”

“Yes. You can hide the rune if you concentrate—like this.” Katrin concealed her rune, then allowed it to return before putting her hat back on.

“I’ve never heard of a binding spell that itched, or that required ten days to take effect. Why not just banish it?”

“We’ve tried. We’ve spoken to three wizards, and the Bishop of Allosur, and an elven druid, but none of them have been able to help us.”

“Elven?”

“Dorvasta. She was the first person we spoke to about it—Corec and I went to the forest to find her after it first happened.”

“Why speak to a druid? Binding spells have nothing to do with the elder magic.”

“We didn’t know that. We don’t know very much about magic. We were going to look for another wizard here in Circle Bay to help us. You’re a wizard, right? I saw you cast a spell during the fight. Can you help us get rid of it, and help us figure out how to keep it from happening again?”