The Ritual (4 page)

“Why should I close doors and move things back?” I asked instead, keeping my
voice calm and neutral. Shani had finished cleaning me and sat back on her sleeping roll, watching the conversation with interest.

“Many people who live in houses this big don’t check their jewellery boxes every day. If you return them to the same state as when you arrived, it could take days before they discover anything missing, by which point you’ll be miles away.”

I gave a thoughtful nod. It wasn’t something that had ever occurred to me, but it made perfect sense now that he explained it. “I understand, but how does that work for doors? I can close them, but I can’t lock them again.”

He held out his hand. “Give me your lockpicks.”

The order startled me. A thief’s lockpicks were such an essential tool to the trade that handing them to someone else almost felt like an invasion of privacy. I would never go out without my lockpicks – to do so would be as inconceivable as going out without clothes.

He didn’t push, didn’t insist, simply sat there with his hand outstretched. His eyes seemed even darker than normal in the sparse light of the fire, and I imagined that I saw understanding in there, maybe even sympathy. It might have placated me, but instead it prickled. I didn’t need sympathy – certainly not from him – and I wasn’t going to let silly sentimentalism stop me from learning whatever I could from him, so with a quick jerk I freed my velvet tool roll from my belt and slapped it into his hand.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow, but said nothing and unrolled it in his lap. As he bent his head down to study the picks I got distracted by the way his hair fell past the nape of his neck, and how it shone in the glow of the fire. He raked it out of his eyes and I suddenly wanted to feel it slide through my hands. The feeling intensified when he ran his fingers past my lockpicks and took out a few to study them more closely, caressing the metal as he held them up against the firelight. His fingers were long and slender, and I could almost imagine them stroking my skin with that same reverent touch he used on my tools.

“A decent set,” he said, waking me from my musings, “but these will break the lock. Better quality picks will simply unlock a door, and people are always willing to believe that they just forgot to lock it.”

I shrugged. “Those are all I have.”

“Did you have any plans for that money you stole in Mazar?”

“Sure. Food, shelter. Shani needs new shoes.”

His gaze went to Shani
’s feet, to the worn leather and the hole beneath her left big toe, and he nodded. “Add a new roll of lockpicks to that then. That is, unless you’re saving for something?”

I blinked at him. “Saving for something? Like what, a house? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re half-elves. There’s not much real estate available for our kind.”

The smile he gave me then made my heart pound and my blood run hotter. “Oh, I
had
noticed, Little Firelocks. One could hardly miss those delectable ear tips poking through that bright hair of yours.” Then he rolled my lockpicks up and tossed them at me, his face back into its mask. “Get some sleep, tomorrow I’ll take you out.”

*   *   *   *   *

We continued our travels just after noon the next day. I was bleary-eyed again, but refused to admit to myself that I had slept badly solely because of that last, casual remark he had tossed at me. Refused to think of being taken out properly – to an entertainment house, or a dance. Never mind that I couldn’t dance, and that they wouldn’t let us in anyway.

I was distrac
ted from my thoughts when Mior adjusted his pace to walk next to my sister and started talking to her. The previous day Shani and I had stuck to each other like burrs, both of us too tired to talk much even to each other, but today she looked rested and alert, and Mior seemed keen to get to know her.

“Your sister has left her trainer, but did you have a master at all? Someone who taught you how to handle your magic?” he asked.

Shani nodded and smiled at him. “I had a teacher for a while, yes, but I left him when Rin left Naerev.”

“Surely not for the same reason?”

I sniggered, thinking of Pailev – fusty, at least eighty-five and dry as old parchment. He was a human, but had been old enough not to care about what trouble he might get into for training an unslaved half-elf sorceress. We owed it to him that Shani was able to hide her abilities so well.

Mior turned around at the sound, giving me a qui
zzical smile, but it was Shani who replied. “Master Pailev lacked the… capacity to consider such a relationship with me,” she smirked.

“Though I’m sure he had the desire to,” I felt it necessary to point out. “Lecherous old bastard.”

“I told you before, I could handle the leering,” Shani said before turning back to Mior. “To put it plain, he was too old for that. He was a good teacher though – I learned a lot from him. But where my sister goes, so do I.” Then she cocked her head at him. “What about you? Who taught you?”

“Oh, various people,” he said airily. “We have good connections in the underground community, and there are a number of sorcerers active in there. I’ve managed to get quite a broad education, all in all.” He followed the statement with a gesture and a few m
urmured words, and I saw Shani startle for a moment as she bumped into an invisible barrier.

She dispersed it with a simple counterspell, pursing her lips
at Mior. “That was hardly a challenge,” she said reproachfully. “Surely you can do better than that?”

Mior grinned and raised his hand, but then Zashter spoke. “He can, but he won’t. Not right now.” He met his brother’s defiant stare and shook his head emphatically. “We’re travelling, and we can’t afford for the two of you to drain your energy by trying to out-perform each other. Do it tonight, when we’ve made camp, then you can exhaust yourself all you want and sleep it off.”

Mior slumped but nodded in resignation, and I retreated back into my own thoughts. That was, until I noticed he was surreptitiously sending tiny illusions into my sister’s path which she dispersed or destroyed with a gleeful grin. My own face echoed her smile as I watched the interaction – Mior was playful, inventive and seemed intent on amusing my sister, in which he succeeded with flair. It was a long time since either of us had done anything simply for the fun of it, and watching the two of them now made me think that maybe we ought to have. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Shani this happy.

I watched as Mior
sent a glittering skylark her way and stifled a giggle as it soared around her head and flew straight into the talons of the falcon she had conjured.

“Mior!” Zashter snapped, and both illusions
abruptly vanished into smoke.

“Alright, alright
,” Mior grumbled, kicking at a stone, and I found myself annoyed at Zashter all over again.

“Do you know so little of magic, that their illusions bother you?” I challenged him.

He looked at me over his shoulder, as if to check that I had really spoken, then turned his gaze ahead again before replying. “Didn’t you hear me just then? I don’t want them to drain themselves. We’re making little enough progress as it is, I don’t want it to be even less because we need to rest sooner than necessary.”

“So I ask again, do you know so little of magic?” I retorted. “Illusions like that hardly use any energy at all. Shani could keep up a display like that for several measures before starting to tire.”

Zashter sighed, stopped and turned to me. “Let me give you a few other reasons then,” he said, his voice exasperated. “First of all, how many horsemen have passed us so far today? Do you want them to take note of two half-elf sorcerers without slave-chokers?”

“Horses are loud,” I
bristled. “We’ll hear them before–”

“Secondly, I know Mior better than you,” he interrupted me. “Let him play with his illusions and before long he’ll be showing off and using wards, barriers and the Gods know what else, and they
will
drain him.”

I was taken aback when Mior
gave a loud guffaw. “Oh Gods, remember when I tried to prove to Kasha that I could stop a four-ox log cart in its tracks, on my own?”

“All too well,” Zashter said, rolling his eyes, and the sudden change in his demeanour was so remarkable that I could only stare at him with open mouth. The look in
his eyes as he glanced at Mior was exasperated but fond, and for the first time the smile on his lips looked entirely genuine. “Just save it all for tonight,” he said, his tone now gentle, and Mior nodded with another chuckle.

Zashter never spared me another glance as he started walking again, and I stared at his back with a strange little flutter in my heart. I wanted to get to know him, mockery or no. I still didn’t know why I felt so attracted to him, but maybe if I knew him better it would either subside or become more rational. I also felt wistful after watching that exchange between him and his brother – they had briefly seemed like people we could be friends with, and I realised that I had not had any close dealings with other half-elves ever since leaving the orphanage so long ago. At the time those had been a double-edged sword anyway – friends could disappear at any moment, bought up as slaves, so I had quickly learned not to get too close to anyone.

Bereft of the opportunity to play, Mior had started to interrogate my sister, quizzing her on techniques, spells and training regimes. I concentrated on it for a few moments, but the magic-speak bored me, and almost inevitably I drifted over to Zashter, deciding to strike up my own conversation. He acknowledged me with a nod, a hair too polite and stiff to make me feel comfortable, but that was to be expected after my earlier outburst.

“So, what brought to you Mazar?” I began, deciding on generic curiosity.

“It was on the way.”

“On the way to what?”

“On the way to where we’re going.”

My annoyance flared up again, wiping away all other feelings. “Fine, be like that,” I snapped, and stalked away to the other side of the road.
Obnoxious, arrogant, self-important, tedious son-of-a–

“I didn’t mean to brush you off like that,” he said next to me, and I nearly squealed in startlement. I glared at him instead, but his gaze back was bland.

“Yet you won’t apologise,” I said, still nettled.

“Apologise? What for?”

“Brushing me off like that.”

“I said I didn’t mean to, didn’t I?”

“Then why did you?”

He sighed. “I was… Look, I hope you understand that it’s too early in our… relationship to trust you with our plans.”

“I wasn’t after your plans,” I said, a little flustered at the suggestive way in which he had said the word ‘relationship’. “I was just trying to make conversation, get to know you. You’re my teacher now, we’re going to have to learn how to work together. I can’t do that if you continue to be a stranger to me.”

“You have a point,” he admitted, looking pensive. The statement had sounded almost reluctant, and with a half-smile I wondered whether that was because he didn’t like to admit that I might be right about something. It made me determined to be right about other things, if only to nettle him like he nettled me.

“I’ve never been a teacher before,” he said after a few more moments. “I cannot promise you that I’ll be good, or that I’ll be easy on you. In fact, I can guarantee you that I’ll be nitpicky, exacting and utterly intolerant of failure.”

I met his black eyes, and this time I saw more than just his usual mocking expression. There was a glint of humour as well as a challenge, and I couldn’t help but smile at him. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure I don’t fail then,” I replied.

That earned me a grin, though it disappeared again quickly. “Don’t think that I don’t mean it, Little Firelocks,” he said. “
I
won’t be busting your pretty arse out of jail if you get yourself caught.”

“Understood,” I managed to say, staring at the ground to hide my blush at the casual way in which he had called me pretty. Then I thought past that, taking in his full statement, and a feeling close to elation swept through me. Zashter had barely shown me anything yet, but from the little I had seen I knew that I would learn much, much more from him than I had ever learnt from Naerev. Naerev had been easygoing, sometimes lackadaisical, and had never pushed me to excel. I had tried to do so myself, but knew I lacked knowledge and drive, and without that my effort simply wasn’t sufficient. With Zashter I knew that if I slipped up even once that was it, and the fear of that alone already sharpened my senses.

Still, I didn’t want him to think that I would just take anything from him, so I hid my elation and said casually, “So you two have a plan, huh? Impressive. I don’t think Shani and I have ever had a plan in our lives, other than to grab some cash, not get caught and stay alive.”

He chuckled. “Not a bad plan, as things are. Better than some.” He paused for a few heartbeats, then seemed to make a decision. “I can’t tell you our full plan, but I suppose I
can
tell you that we’re after some specific items, so we’ll need to go to where they are. On the way, however, there should be plenty of opportunity to improve your skills. Does that satisfy you for now?”