All the Paths of Shadow

Her mouth full, Meralda just nodded. The captain snorted.

“Well, Meralda, I hope you know you can call on me anytime, for anything. I don’t have to know why, and I won’t ask any questions. You do know that, don’t you?”

“I know. And I thank you.”

The captain shrugged. “Well, I’ve said my piece. I’d better be off now, in case that pair of daft old codgers manages to start a war right here in our kitchens.” He rose, reached into his jacket, and withdrew a short, black bladed dagger in a black felt sheath.

“I didn’t forget, by the way. Had this special made for you. Double edged. I had old man Kinnon put the edge on it. It’ll cut daylight. Blade is black so it won’t shine in the dark. Hilt is soft leather for a good grip. The felt will keep it from nicking your ankle. Will it do?”

Meralda took the dagger. It was heavy in her hand, and cold.

“Perfectly,” she said.

“I hope you never do more than put it away in a drawer when all this is over with,” said the captain. “But if you use it, strike underhanded, with the blade level. It’s good sharp steel. Go right through leather.” His face darkened. “I’ve got a granddaughter your age. You be careful, you hear? Don’t go breaking any old men’s hearts.”

Meralda put the dagger on her desk and caught the captain up in a sudden fierce hug.

“Just a few more days, Captain. A few more days, and we can all go back to pilfering the royal kitchens and idling on the royal stairs.”

The captain didn’t reply. He patted Meralda awkwardly on her back, and when Meralda released him he turned and stomped out the doors.

“Sounds like the daft codgers have been busy,” said Mug, once the doors were firmly shut. “The bit about the marching clothes? Shingvere’s, or I’m a petunia.”

Meralda made for the laboratory’s tiny water closet. Mug watched her go, then turned his eyes to the notes she’d left the night before.

His eyes all went wide at once.

“Tower,” he said, in a whisper. “Does this mean she’s found a way to save Tirlin?”

“It is possible,” said the Tower, matching Mug’s whisper. “Your mage is possessed of a formidable intellect.”

Mug’s eyes hovered over the page, darting back and forth across it in a wild tangle of motion.

“You’re an ancient construct possessed of a formidable intellect yourself,” said Mug. “Do you think this will actually work?”

The Tower was silent for a moment.

“It seems plausible. If a number of assumptions and estimates are correct.”

Mug emulated a sigh as the sound of running water issued from the back of the lab.

“Don’t overwhelm me with your confidence.”

“We have no time to pursue further research,” it said. “This is Tirlin’s only hope.”

Mug tossed his leaves. “Sunlight,” he said, to the glass.

Warm, bright morning sun flooded the desk, bathing Mug’s leaves in light and warmth.

“Well.” Mug spread his leaves and closed his eyes. “I suppose it will have to do.”

Meralda emerged from the water closet at the same time the Bellringers knocked at the door and announced coffee and pancakes.

“No sign of Mr. Donchen this morning, ma’am,” said Tervis. “Shame, too. I was looking forward to some more of those Hang vittles.”

Meralda beckoned the Bellringers inside with a frown.

“Did either of you sleep last night?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No, ma’am.”

Meralda sighed. Kervis kicked his brother in the shin, causing Tervis to yelp and amend his reply.

“Mr. Donchen stayed with us until a couple of hours ago,” said Kervis. “Said he had some bird watching to do.” Kervis frowned. “I told him most Tirlish birds don’t fly till after sunup, but he left anyway.”

Bird watching, mused Meralda, as she cleared a place on her desk for her breakfast. What are you up to, Donchen?

“Thank you for breakfast,” said Meralda. “Now then. I’m heading for the Tower at three bells. Both of you will now go get a few hours sleep.” She raised her hands at their protests. “Have the captain send up a pair of guards. That’s an order. I’ll lock the doors and set the wards. A dozen Vonats couldn’t get past both. Go.” She stabbed a bite of pancakes with her fork. “I’d better not see either of you until three of the clock.”

“Are you sure, Thaumaturge?”

Meralda glared. Kervis caught his brother’s elbow and led him out.

“Back to the Tower, is it?” said Mug.

“I’ve got enough of the shadow moving spellwork finished to latch it. It’ll give me an excuse to have a look at the Vonat spell, too.”

“It’ll also expose you to anyone out there with mischief on their mind,” said Mug.

Meralda swallowed and shrugged. I won’t even mention that I’m going home to change and have a proper bath, she thought. Mug would lose leaves.

“It has to be done.”

“So you’re nearly done with the shadow spell?”

“I’m taking quite a few shortcuts,” said Meralda. “I’ve halved the number of refractors. It won’t be as bright as day, but the king won’t be in deep shadow, either.”

“Ooo, Yvin will have a fit.”

“If he wishes.” Meralda put down her fork and found her coffee. “He can always ask for my robe back. Another night in this chair and I may give it to him anyway.”

“Now you sound like Fromarch.”

“Hush, Mug.”

“Now you really sound like Fromarch.”

Meralda shrugged and sipped coffee until her mind was clear again.

“You put a ribbon in your hair,” said Mug.

Meralda regarded the park from atop the nearly completed spectator’s bleachers which now lay full in the Tower’s long shadow.

The park was full. Two dozen dirt smeared Alons charged and bellowed and ran, and a crowd of several hundred spectators gathered about them, all hooting or jeering or shoving each other for a better look at the running mob of Alons. Food sellers wandered, hawking their wares in strident tones. Minstrels played and sang, often so close to one another their songs were little more than shouting matches.

“It’s a red ribbon,” added Mug. “In case anyone asks.”

“I know perfectly well what color it is. I did, after all, put it there. It’s just a ribbon. I often wear hair ribbons.”

“Seen Donchen yet?”

“I have no idea where he might be.”

“Well, keep looking, he’s bound to turn up.”

“I’m not looking!”

“No, of course not, you were just pointing your eyes toward the crowd, my mistake.”

Kervis came charging up the wooden stair. “Ma’am,” he began, breathless. “I told-the foreman-he’ll blow a whistle-when everyone is clear.”

Meralda smiled. “Thank you, Kervis. Please make sure no one ascends the stair after the whistle is blown.”

Kervis nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I didn’t see Mr. Donchen, by the way.”

Mug snickered.

Meralda turned, and Kervis stamped away down the stairs.