Illusion (12 page)

She stopped for a moment and looked across the road. “Jeezus. Look at my building. It’s a disaster.”

Her mouth drooped, and her eyes lost their glint. In daylight, the desolate building looked charred and abandoned, windows skewed in their broken frames. Yellow tape barred the entrance.

Early snow had fallen and the sludge made the ground hazardous. Two lower magi brushed past, wearing the brown homespun cloth of iron miners, almost nudging Maya off the path. Their wrinkled and dry skin folded into fissures on their massive faces. Resheph reached out automatically to save Maya from a fall, but she didn’t notice. Too busy chewing her lower lip and thinking about the next thing to say, no doubt.

Her wretched expression made something shift in his stomach. “Why do you have to wear those boots?”

“What’s wrong with them? These babies are badass.” She lifted a foot to showcase the heel.

Resheph tugged her by the arm, letting the conversation drop. “The Khereb are not the only problem. Law enforcement also seeks you. Move along. We need to get off the streets.”

“Thanks for the reminder, killjoy. I bet a hulking warrior stomping around with a sword extended over his left shoulder is a real eye-opener for the neighbors.” She motioned to the
alchemagical
shop a few yards away. “Lead forth then, Macduff. Trot along and I’ll try and keep up.”

He didn’t ask what she meant. It would only prolong the torture.

The lower magi looked through the windows of a shop. The store squatted on the corner, almost hidden by a huge elm tree that had pushed up the pavement, cracking the cement into mosaic shards. The wind swept along the streets, funneling icy tendrils straight through Resheph’s clothes. He hunched his shoulders and made an effort to avoid shivering. Despite her strategically ripped pants, Maya didn’t seem bothered by the wind.

A battered sign banged in time with the wind. Enochian cuneiform announced to passersby that it was a registered place of magic. The symbols identified the owner as belonging to the higher mage caste. The proprietor’s name was scrawled in tiny letters.
Jusef Ayban.
Apart from the sorry-looking mixed-breed magi standing at the barren window, few folk walked the streets.

“Let’s hope we find what we need,” she said. The glint was back in her eyes and he rubbed his jaw with his hand.

Dead flies lay in the abandoned wasteland of a cracked windowsill. At best he might find a few raw ingredients in this shop he could purify. The mirror to Balkaith was gone, and he didn’t have time to chase her journal, either buried beneath piles of masonry or in the hands of the Khereb. The thought made his skin crawl.

The door opened with a squeal and light clatter of bells. Maya stepped in behind him.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Cobwebs littered the ceiling and floated to the ground, giving the room a haunted air. Rows of warped shelves were mounted on the shop walls. The planks drooped with their burden of dusty alembic flasks, cucurbits, and retorts. Stoppered glass jars contained herbs and animal by-products.

Resheph walked to a short man standing in front of a counter. Beneath the glass were wooden compartments holding herbs and powdered metals. The sharp smell of rosemary, lavender, pure alcohol, and potassium carbonate floated from the open trays. Amulets and calcinated crystals lay like lonely soldiers under the glass, along with dust and dead insects.

A battered double door hung at awkward angles inside a lopsided frame. He narrowed his eyes to better see the two protruding knobs. One had been shaped in the form of a dog, the other a carved wolf. Facing one another, the animals snarled in prelude to an attack.

“What are you looking for?” asked the short man. Nearly as wide as he was tall, he had the smooth cheeks and voice of a younger man. His brown eyes assessed them.

Next to him, and twice his height, stood a buxom woman wearing a long purple dress. She stared at Maya and continued to scratch a thin metal board across her long fingernails. The woman’s curly red hair fell in luxurious waves to her waist.

The little man seemed familiar, but Resheph couldn’t place him. He stepped forward and shook the shopkeeper’s hand.

“Would you by chance have a Calvary Cross of ten squares? It is also known as the Double Cube.”

“High magic indeed.” The man smiled, showing a row of yellow overlapping teeth. “Do you know how to purify it?”

The woman returned to filing her nails with the board. Resheph shuddered. The small gentleman leaned forward, peering at the hilt of his sword extending beyond his left shoulder.

Tilting his head slightly, he indicated the door behind him. “Perhaps you do. It will be back there.”

Maya gave him a nudge. “I’ll stay here.” Her gaze had fixed on a dagger held captive beneath the smeared counter.

His back stiffened. By the Divinities, did she really think he’d leave her alone?

Absorbed, she waved him away. “I’ll be fine … go already.”

The poison must be affecting him, highlighting his senses and making him more testy than normal. “Keep out of trouble,” he muttered. He considered her image for a moment, then waved his hand, further transforming her jaw so she looked nothing like her former self. The drain of magic rocked him on his feet, and the world took on a wavy cast.

She must have seen her reflection in the glass case because she looked up and glared, pantomiming him walking with two fingers in midair. He considered pulling her along, but it would only reinforce her belief that he was arrogant. The term held a surprising sting.

Striding behind the counter, he nodded his thanks to the shopkeeper. This close, the man and his assistant smelled like sulfur. Grasping the head of the wolf, he turned the cold metal knob and stepped into the room.

*

Good God, he has a hard head.
Maya sighed. She flicked a glance at the door to make sure he wasn’t coming back. The shopkeeper and the woman seemed to be arguing, their tense voices low and heated. The shopkeeper gestured to the door that Resh had walked through and the woman shrugged.

“Excuse me, do you have any Lycopodium tabs. Or Mescal buttons? I don’t have a license, nor a prescription,” she added hurriedly.

The shopkeeper turned to Maya and frowned. “They’re powerful spells. Mescal will cause convulsions if you take it for too long. Lyco is a dangerous narcotic. We can’t sell either without authorization. You know that.”

She shrugged. “It’s for my sister. She has terrible seizures and it’s the only thing that helps. My family can’t afford the House consent.”

The woman sniffed. She’d stopped filing her nails and watched Maya’s fingers as they tapped an incessant rhythm on the counter. “Is that so?” Her voice was languid.

Maya felt hot shame wash over her cheeks and she lowered her eyes to the glass.

The barbaric dagger gleamed beneath. Runes had been carved into the worn leather sheath. A serpent held a sun on the cap of the wire-wrapped handle.

The shop bell tinkled. Heavy footsteps and the smell of oil and moldy clothes pulled her attention to the new customer.

“I’ll be picking up the crushed amanita,” said a familiar voice. She mentally cringed and kept her eyes averted, hoping he wouldn’t see through the disguise. Just her luck—Jhara’s assistant, Trent. Letting her dark hair swing forward, she fixed her gaze on the jeweled dagger, trying to make herself inconspicuous.

Pretending indifference, she worried her lip with her tooth.

“They are difficult to find,” said the shopkeeper.

“Don’t give me that rot. Here…” Trent tossed coins and a loose scroll on the counter. The coins rolled over the side, clattering to the floor. The little man bent over his large belly and tried to pick up the rolling
kohner
.

The bell over the door tinkled again, but Maya kept her face forward. The rich smell of earth heralded the arrival of the two lower magi.

Damn, why do shops immediately become crowded after I walk into them?

The woman behind the counter continued to file her nails, unconcerned. The shopkeeper, finally locating the polymer
kohners
, reached under the counter and pulled out a silver scoop. He opened a small sliding drawer behind the counter and measured withered fungus into a conical cup. He said something to the woman in Latin.

She finally stopped grating her nails and walked over to Maya. “Would you like a closer look?” She gestured to the dagger. Without waiting for a response, she selected an iron key from a thin leather belt around her waist. Opening the case, she withdrew the dagger and handed it to Maya.

If only the others would leave so she could convince the shop owner to sell her the spells. In the meantime she’d pretend interest in the knife. She pulled it out of its sheath and caressed the silver handle. It fitted her hand as if carved for her.

The woman smiled, showing perfect, even teeth. “If you’ve got a hundred
kohner
, we might part with it. That’s if it wants to go.”

Maya placed the knife back down onto the glass.

“It’s against the law for lower magi to purchase
alchemagic
,” said Trent.

Maya looked over to see him eyeing the hybrid magi.

They ignored him, and continued to wait in stoic silence for the shop owner to finish serving Trent.

Maya ignored him as well. If the girls could turn the other cheek so could she. She didn’t need any more trouble.

“You lower caste are always up to no good. Probably out to hex a human.” Trent’s face held a travesty of a smile.

One of the females peered at Maya. The spidery veins in her face darkened to a deep purple.

Trent flicked a
kohner
at the lower mage. It bounced off her flat chest and clattered to the floor. “Take this and get out. I can’t stand your smell.”

Crap.
Maya turned to face Trent. “What’s your problem?”

Trent had lost some of his human appearance. His skin had darkened, giving it a leathery cast, and his eyes had a strange red glow to them. Not quite bloodshot but something close. Maybe he’d been tossing back amanita as well?

“Mind your business.”

“Leave the women alone.”

He stared at her for a moment, his red eyes glistening. He cocked his head as if listening to something only he could hear. Then he smiled a macabre grin. “Someone wants to meet you, sweetie. It would be preferable to life on a prison barge. Let me introduce you. Maya, right?”

“No.”

Trent moved forward so fast he was a blur. He shoved her roughly against the case, leaning over her body, one hand on either side of the counter. The wood scraped her back as she arched to avoid his smell. Good God, what had he been doing? A mixture of human sweat and rot flooded her nostrils.

He smiled, showing sharp, pointed teeth. “Yes. Maya,” he hissed. “The spell junkie.”

Time slowed. Her scalp tingled, heralding a panic attack. She watched herself as if from a distance. Her hand fumbled for the knife from the counter and she lashed out, slicing through his shoulder. Blood welled from the wound, seeping into his coat. They both gazed at it in shock and he stumbled back.

Maya waved the knife in front of his face. “Get out.”

Trent clenched his arm against his torso; his face wrenched into lines of fury and pain. The shopkeeper threw something that caught him in the middle of his back. It bounced to the floor, rolling to Maya’s feet. She bent down automatically to pick it up, but the shopkeeper shouted, “No.” She recoiled at the black smoke and ice-cold sensation swirling from the button.

A hex. Highly illegal, but oh so deserved.

Trent fell to his knees. He stood and then lurched to door and out of the shop. As he rushed past the show window she saw his face. Bright red boils wept down his cheeks.

Adrenaline rushed through Maya’s body, and she trembled, still holding the knife. The red-haired woman leaned across the counter and patted her on the hand, slowly drawing the knife away and placing it on the counter. The lower magi peered out the window.

“Can’t stand the weasel, but his
kohner
are better quality than most.” The shopkeeper grunted. “His tongue will be tied in knots for hours.”

Resh opened the door and walked into the room with a thoughtful look on his face, several bulky items in his hands. His eyes met hers, and he glanced quickly around the room. Maya followed his lead, wincing as she saw the scene.

The splattered blood and shocked expressions on the lower magi’s faces told a story. Magic pooled in Resh’s eyes—a wash of silver that flashed and snapped, and his gaze settled on the bloody knife on the counter.

The woman filed her nails again, as if nothing had happened. The lower magi stared at Maya as if she were a puzzle they couldn’t decipher. Maya opened her mouth and closed it. She pulled down the sleeves on her coat with exaggerated care, and faced him.

Mouth tight, he said nothing. He placed a square cinnabar crystal on dolomite on the counter along with small plastic packets filled with herbs.

The shopkeeper leaned on the counter, strangely relaxed given the fraught atmosphere. “Vivienne was about to help you. Did you find what you needed?”

Resh nodded. “You have items of great interest. Who is your supplier?”

“We trade goods here and there. Vivienne is particularly good at locating special items.” The shop owner motioned to the redhead.

“Some of the ingredients are powerful. I hope you handle them with care.”

“Of course, warrior.” He raised a beetle-thick brow.

“How much?” asked Resh.

They began to haggle.

The red-haired woman picked up the knife and calmly cleaned the blade with a cloth. The silver knife gleamed, as if pleased with the opportunity to show its abilities.

Maya stared at the knife, disconcerted. Blue swirls of smoke drifted from the blade toward her. They curled around her arm and brushed her face. She pulled away, shuddering. The hairs on her skin rose like a spider had kissed her.

Resh agreed on a price. The shopkeeper wrapped the items in a brown package.

“Good luck.” The shop owner nodded at Resh.