All the Paths of Shadow

needle would still point to the ships.

Still, this is Hang. But what does it do?

Meralda urged the sphere to reveal more. The glass began to sag, and a drop of it fell to the stair, smoking and hissing.

Meralda pushed deeper. The formations inside the spellwork danced and spun, rolling and straightening, flashing suddenly from the Tower’s floor to the flat, like cold, bright lightning.

Lightning.

“Oh, my.”

“Ma’am?”

“Nothing.”

Lightning. Plain and simple. The word is spoken. The structure unfolds. The coils are released.

And then a ring of deadly, concentrated lightning springs from the Tower and falls into the park. Bolt after bolt, until the latch fails.

The hand holding the melting glass began to shake. How many would die? Dozens? Hundreds?

And I’d be blamed, she realized. He’d wait until I invoked the shadow moving spell. Make it appear as if a clumsy Tirlish mage-a woman, at that-accidentally called down death on the royal houses of all the Five Realms, and the Hang.

Wrecking the Accords. Sending the Hang home, perhaps forever. Leaving the realms distrustful and perhaps even vengeful against a devastated, kingless Tirlin.

All of that laid at my doorstep.

Meralda felt her teeth grinding, and forced her jaw to relax. It’s not going to happen, she said to herself. The spell has been disabled. Oh, it looks formidable enough. But when the word is spoken, if it is spoken, the whole wretched mess will simply spin and thrash and fall apart.

Meralda took a deep breath, and dropped her Sight.

The glass globe sputtered and dripped. The heat of it warmed her hand, even from the end of the handle.

Kervis and Tervis regarded her with something like terror.

“Ma’am,” said Kervis. “Is everything…all right?”

“It is now. Forgive me, gentlemen. I assure you, all is well.”

The Bellringers nodded, their eyes still wide.

Meralda spoke another word. The globe ceased its glowing, and began to pop and crack as it suddenly cooled.

Meralda propped it carefully against the wall. The glass was so soft it flattened and deformed against the stone.

“I’ll just leave this here and pick it up on the way down. Remember where it is, and don’t trip over it later.”

The Bellringers chorused agreement. Meralda hefted her bag, and resumed her careful march back toward the flat, scowling at the dark all the way.

Sunlight spilled into the flat. Meralda and the Bellringers put their backs to the walls and sat, catching their breath.

“I’m not going to miss doing this one bit,” said Tervis, after a time.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s fun after the first few thousand steps,” added Kervis with a sweaty grin.

Meralda laughed and rose. One last thing to do, she thought. And the shadow spell will be in place at last.

I just hope there’s still a Tirlin in which to use it.

Meralda fumbled in her bag, found the pair of holdstones and the intricate device of brass and silver that would shape the refractors upon their release. She put the device in the center of the floor, spoke half the word that bound it to the latch, and watched as the cogged gears located at each of the compass points rotated precisely half a revolution each.

Then she let out her breath in a sigh.

“That’s that,” she said. “Hurrah. Another victory for applied magic.”

The Bellringers stood.

“We knew you could do it,” said Kervis, blushing. “You’re the smartest person we’ve ever met, and that’s a fact.”

Meralda found a weary smile. “And you are the bravest. Thank you. Let’s get back to the park, shall we? I could use something to eat.”

“Me, too,” said Tervis. “We should have brought some apples.”

“I’d rather eat with my feet on the ground,” said Kervis, opening the door to the flat. “Ready, Mage?”

“Ready.” Meralda pushed back her hair and brushed her magelamp to life. “Mind your step.”

Kervis grinned and stepped out of the light. Meralda followed, and Tervis locked the door behind.

A dozen steps down the stair, Meralda saw something black flit and dart just beyond the reach of her magelamp’s white glow.

A dozen steps later, she was sure she heard, fainter than a cricket’s footfall, the sound of crow’s wings beating.

Neither Kervis nor Tervis gave any sign of seeing shadows or hearing fluttering in the dark.

Meralda kept one hand in her bag and hurried down as fast as she dared.

“I do love the feel of the sun on my face,” said Kervis, as he stepped out into the light.

Meralda nodded, too out of breath to comment. Tervis brought up the rear, armor clinking and clanking as he hurried to catch up.

Meralda could see Mug waving his fronds from high atop the stands. She waved back. If Mug was shouting the din in the park made it impossible to hear.

Meralda searched the crowd ahead for any sign of Humindorus Nam, but saw only idling Tirlish and grinning, bruised Alons and a group of assorted carpenters all hurrying about their tasks. Hammers rose and fell. Saws cut and glinted in the sun.

Fromarch peeked from behind a stack of lumber, flashed Meralda a rare wide grin, and vanished.

Meralda let out her breath all at once. “Let’s fetch Mug and be off,” she said. The Bellringers hurried to her side. “I’ll get us some lunch on the way to the palace.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” said Kervis, who hurried for the stands. “I’ll fetch Mr. Mug. Won’t be a moment!”

“Don’t forget his sheet,” called Meralda.

“I’m sure Mr. Mug will remind him, ma’am,” said Tervis. He peered out at Meralda from behind his too-large helm. “Ma’am, it’s none of my concern, but you looked to be a mite angry back there. Did we say something wrong? Kervis didn’t mean anything about that Alon football he likes to watch.”

“No, nothing of the sort,” said Meralda, quickly. “I saw some…difficulties with the spell. That’s all. Extra work. I’m just grumpy these days.”

Tervis smiled. “Well, as long as it weren’t nothing we did.”

Kervis came charging back, a swaying, sheet-covered birdcage muttering in his hand.

“I’m going to be thoroughly sick,” said Mug, from within.

“Oh, let me have him,” said Meralda. Kervis handed the cage to her. “Here, we’ll be sitting still very soon.”

“Not soon enough. Oh. Donchen stopped by, mistress. Said to tell you something. Please slow down! I’m not a swinging vine, you know.”

Meralda glared, but slowed her walk.

“Yes? What was it?”

“His message?”

“Yes, his bloody message!”

“He said your bag is very heavy, and any carpenter in Tirlin would be proud to carry it for you some day. Are we walking up and down hills, mistress? Because it feels that way.”