The Sleeping Life

Chapter Fifteen

The sights, scents and sounds of a sprawling Kolan market would have had Kendall trying to look in every direction at once, except that Sukata was angry. Kendall wasn’t entirely certain if the Kellian girl was so furious because of Rennyn, or perhaps Kendall, but she sure made it hard to pay attention to anything else. Angry Kellian were like chained lightning, and a little pool of startled silence followed them wherever they went. It didn’t help that Sukata had left behind the hat she usually wore on sunny days, and was lit up like a candle: hair, eyes, and pointed nails all vivid flames announcing that here was something different, dangerous. Even the Pest, who had started out nearly as upset as Sukata, couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Nor could his high-and-mightiness Samarin, who had spotted them leaving and followed like a hound on blood scent. He at least had stowed his mask in a big inner pocket of his cloak before prowling along behind them, but he still acted like he thought that the world was there to entertain him, and that Sukata was as good as a play. Kendall hadn’t learned nearly enough Kolan to understand what people were murmuring as they passed, but Sukata was getting more attention than Kendall thought smart. And they’d be here all afternoon if she kept stalking past everything without even looking.

Rennyn hadn’t even explained why she suddenly wanted musical instruments. Small ones and different from each other was all she would say, gazing off into the distance. And then suddenly Sukata and Fallon were being all white and agonised and tiresome. All over stupid magic lessons too.

Kendall lagged behind, trying to at least look for instruments. The market filled a broad square paved with sandstone. The only permanent structure was a central knee-high pool tiled with shiny blue and green, which looked to Kendall like an outsize Kolan bath in the wrong place. The rest of the space was a maze of bulging tents, light wooden stalls with wheels on one side, and blankets spread between them, so you couldn’t let your feet wander without risking tramping over glassware or piles of clothes. Everything was so close-packed there was barely room for the heaving crowd.

A jangle of notes cut through the noise. Kendall peered about, and oriented on a pair of boys being chased off from a stall hidden down a narrow corridor formed by the backs of two rows of tents. "Let’s try down there," she said, but Sukata was still too busy being angry, disappearing into the crowd ahead.

With an irritated shrug, Kendall let her go. Sukata might be carrying the purse Rennyn had given them, but Kendall had enough Kolan coin to make at least small purchases, and would have no problem finding her way back to the house. Some time alone to think would be a good thing.

You saw a lot more of what a person was like when they lost their temper. Sukata would assuredly get over her snit and go back to acting the way she usually did, but having seen her like this, Kendall had to seriously wonder how much of the way Sukata usually behaved was Sukata. Almost every Sentene mage Kendall had talked to had been obsessed with living up to their Kellian partners, and they’d all in some way or other said that Kellian were very proud, and that while they were extremely polite, they rarely had a high opinion of people. Sukata acted all quiet and obliging, but right now Kendall could easily believe that she thought people who weren’t Kellian were little more than bugs.

That was probably the wrong way to look at it. But it was worth thinking about some more. Kendall put it aside for later as she reached the stall, pleased to spot a set of pipes among a mix of scraps of silk and cheap jewellery. And there was a line of fine-cast bells. The stall-keeper, a lanky carrot-top, eyed her like he expected her to act like the kids he’d chased off, so she pointed at the second-smallest bell and said "How much?" in Kolan.

The gabble in response was stupidly fast, but Kendall managed to pick out the price, and countered with something more reasonable. Carrot-top shook his head, but smilingly produced a cowbell from beneath the display-top and clanked it as if it was worth listening to. Kendall firmly pointed back at her first choice, and offered a tiny bit more. She wasn’t—

A hand, reeking of perfume, clapped over her mouth. Pulled back against a man where there should only be tent wall, arms trapped, Kendall was lifted and turned so that her lashing boot missed the stall. She tried biting, working to find flesh, but Smelly had his hand cupped and already they were out of the sun, slipping through draping canvas.

Dim space. A second man, stubbled face beneath a tight-tied green scarf. People, girls, on the floor, lying unmoving. Chained to the centre pole.

Green Scarf lifted a chain ending in a cuff. Worked power itched at Kendall even before she spotted the sigils up and down the pole, and she wriggled frantically, then remembered that she was the student of someone who could kill people at a glance, and no-one to be messed with.

But her attempt to push her captors away with Thought was as successful as holding back a river with bare hands. This was bigger than bowls, and it felt as if all the energy she put against them melted away. Kendall tried again, straining to stop Green Scarf coming any nearer. He didn’t budge, but the chain could be worked on, springing from his hands to clatter back against the centre pole.

The hand over Kendall’s mouth lifted long enough for Smelly to clip her smartly across the ear. He was quick to replace his hand before she could yell, but even with her head reeling, Kendall managed to sink her teeth into flesh and dug in with vicious satisfaction as he grunted and stifled a yell. But the distraction had given Green Scarf time to retrieve his cuff and before she’d more than felt the grip on her foot he’d clapped it around her ankle.

Green Scarf had to hold the cuff closed, fumbling to thread through a bulky padlock, and Kendall kicked again, trying to jam his fingers. The etched Sigillic was active, and filled her legs with jelly while a sheep came to sit on her head. Green Scarf dug his fingers in, clicking the padlock home, then said something in a gabble that didn’t sound Kolan. Smelly let Kendall go, and she plonked down on her behind, struggling not to pass out because she really needed to yell, not just sit and let them win.

Smelly moved forward, a barrel of a man grimacing at a hand dripping blood but still looking far too pleased with himself. Kendall longed to wipe the self-satisfied expression off his face, and was astonished when her anger was immediately rewarded, as Smelly glanced at the back wall of the tent and froze, jaw sagging.

It was too much work for Kendall to look. She needed everything she had left to stay awake. It was only after Smelly and Green Scarf had dashed through a second tent flap that she had a glimpse of what they’d seen: a charcoal mask. But by that time Kendall’s whole world had tilted and she was preoccupied with the scratchy feel of matting against her cheek. A booted foot came down next to her nose, then went past, and that was it for Kendall until a tugging at her ankle revived her drive to escape and she kicked feebly.

"Not helping."

Kendall cracked her eyelids, and found she was now facing stretched canvas instead of matting. Same tent, same central pole with its chains, but one of the plates holding chain to wood had been pried free. Her feet were propped up on something that shifted beneath them, and fingers…

Opening her eyes properly, Kendall found Samarin sitting on the mat with his mask pushed back and her feet in his lap, wiggling a bit of metal in the padlock holding the cuff in place. It didn’t seem to suit, so he reached down to a strip of cloth laid out beside him and exchanged it for another.

"Why do you have all those…keys?" she asked, only just resisting the impulse to kick again. At least until he had the cuff off.

"My role is to go to the places the Emperor cannot, and meddle. I’ve met a lot of inconvenient locks over the years." He laughed. "This isn’t even the first attached to a girl."

So full of himself he was overflowing. And worse, he’d obviously rescued her, though she couldn’t quite work out how. The other three—no, two girls and a boy—also lying on the floor didn’t stir at all.

"Why did they run away? Did you have the Guard with you?"

He touched the mask covering his hair. "They may have thought I’d a small army right behind me, but even obviously alone, this is often more than enough. The attention of the Emperor. Justice that bribery or threats won’t turn aside. And trying to dispose of me would only bring a harsh demonstration of the might of the Kolan throne, since the mask will make the Emperor aware of my death."

His wide mouth twisted, as if he thought all that a bitter joke, then he tried another bit of metal.

"If people are getting snatched right in the middle of the capital’s markets, then the might of the Kolan throne isn’t all that much."

"Certainly not infallible: someone’s being lazy, or deliberately looking the other way. Though I know of no system that will change the nature of those who see a pretty child and covet her."

"I’m not a child."

"No? You look about twelve."

"Twelve! I’m sixteen!" she snapped. Then, after a reluctant beat, added: "Nearly."

He lifted his brows, then abruptly pulled on her leg, so that it was no longer her foot sitting in his lap, but most of Kendall. Bending over so that his nose was in danger of poking into hers, he gave her the most obnoxious smirk and said: "Still a child."

Straightening, he dumped her back on the tent’s floor and lifted her ankle again. Kendall longed to kick him, but she wanted the chain off more, so she swallowed hard and said instead:

"Better that than a creepy old man pretending he’s not even twenty." She hadn’t missed that over the years he’d tossed off earlier.

"Oh, I was quite the prodigal," he said, unperturbed. "Indeed, I expect I’m even younger than you think. So what set your tall friend off?"

"None of your business."

"No? Well, I expect she’ll tell me herself."

He would ask Sukata too, the scut. And knew Kendall would answer rather than see Sukata be made to talk about a thing that had so severely upset her—particularly now Kendall had figured out the why of it herself.

"It was our latest Sigillic exercise," Kendall said, reluctantly. "Rennyn’s not just showing us how Thought Magic works: she trying to teach us to be devising mages, and she keeps telling us to write Sigillics to do the same thing as whatever she’s most recently Thought-cast. Not that she’s been casting much at all lately, but the last thing she did was make an apple fall into segments.

"The Sigillic I wrote was just something short, and it was no good—likely to make the entire room fall into segments, according to Herself. The Sigillics Sukata and the Pe—and Fallon wrote worked. But even though they were really long, they were identical. The Pe—Fallon said that of course they were the same, because Fan-Fen…"

"Falzenar’s Division and Miktok’s Restriction," Samarin said. "The most logical combination of Sigillics to use there."

"That’s it," Kendall said, eyeing him doubtfully. "And we could all see that Rennyn was expecting us—them—to realise something, but then she sighed, and made a couple of changes to mine, and told Fallon to cast it, and it worked too. Then she told us to go buy instruments."

"Ah, I see. Your Sukata’s upset because, flawed or not, you produced the superior Sigillic."

"No," Kendall said irritably, though this was exactly what she’d thought at first. But Sukata wasn’t like that. "Sukata really loves magic. She wants to understand it properly, to be a devising mage, and a Thought Mage, and to use Symbolic properly. And yet for every one of these Sigillic writing exercises, she’s done just what she did today—stitched together a couple of existing Sigillics that someone else had come up with. Because that’s how she’s been taught to do it. Rennyn’s never come right out and said Sukata and the Pest aren’t doing what she asked them to, but she made it kind of obvious today. Sukata’s angry at herself."

"Huh." Samarin picked up another bit of metal. "You can’t stand to see her criticised, can you?"

"It’s just the truth," Kendall told him crossly.

"Perhaps. But it’s entirely unsurprising for a well-studied student mage to be annoyed when shown up by some random sprat who has only been studying magic for a handful of months. How do you think she’ll react if you make this next step in Thought you’re all aiming for?"

What was he trying to get at? "I expect she’d be glad to know it’s not just the Claires who can. She’s not the type to be jealous."

"Such devotion," he said. "How long is it you’ve known her again? No, don’t kick me, I’ve a serious point to make. There’s a lot of this blinding and immediate loyalty going around. Sentene mages who would walk over glass to defend those assigned to protect them. Rennyn Claire, marrying the first Kellian she meets, all in haste. Diminutive spitfires who don’t have a good word to say about anyone, except one particular fellow student. There’s a pattern."

"What in the Hells are you trying to say?"

"Why are you such a friend to Sukata Illuma? How did all this steadfast and true companionship come about? Who gained most from it?"

Kendall boggled at him. She and Sukata were friends because they were friends. Because they’d both been picked on studying at the Arkathan. Because together they’d trailed around after Rennyn, and been exasperated by Sebastian, and looked after the pair of Claires after the Black Queen’s death. It wasn’t about gaining…

Yes, Sukata had ended up as Rennyn’s student because of Kendall. But that wasn’t because Sukata had angled for it.

"They have an extreme vulnerability to magic, you know," Samarin went on. "An innate lack of resistance. Is it coincidence that their service as Sentene brings with it a supply of companion mages? That those mages often go on to become parents of Kellian? Or is this a logical tactic for a people determined to breed out their greatest weakness?"

"You’re cracked."

"I’m asking the questions that need to be answered, before Kole can settle her attitude toward a people whose home settlement is, technically at least, within the Imperial borders. Asset? Ally? Threat? There are more ways to invade than to show up with an army at the border."

"Triple cracked and left out in the sun."

"Be that as it may, I would appreciate you giving the question some thought. Have you observed anything that fits with the theory? Anything to contradict it?"

Kendall proceeded to let Dezart Rhael Samarin, Hand of the Emperor, know exactly what she thought of playing snitch for him, but Samarin only smiled, then glanced briefly away before selecting another bit of metal.

"No doubt you will proceed according to your own wonts," he said. "Just perhaps not alone down hidden by-ways."

The inner flap of the tent tore as it was thrust back, but it was not the two men returning. Sukata, long knife in hand, stepped through and stopped short, the Pest peeking anxiously around her.

Samarin finally produced a satisfying click from the padlock and said: "There we go," as he slipped it loose. "Perhaps you two could find one of the Market Peacewards. They should be wearing a red quarter-mask."

Ignoring this, Sukata knelt as Kendall sat up and pulled the cuff off her ankle. "Are you hurt?"

"Just wishing I could twist someone’s neck," Kendall said, glaring at Samarin because it was strangely hard to look at Sukata, and not because of any Kellian weirdness with light.

"There was someone wearing a quarter-mask following us anyway," the Pest said, and ducked back out the way he’d come.

"If you were roaming the markets with that knife drawn, I’m not surprised," Samarin said, tucking away his collection of bits of metal.

"Aren’t you going to unlock these others?" Kendall snapped.

"I’m sure the Peaceward will enjoy doing that." He stood, slipping his mask down over his face again, and went into the adjoining tent just in time to disconcert whatever a Peaceward was.

"I didn’t notice," Sukata said, as soon as I they were alone. "I am sorry, Kendall. That was inexcusable."

"Not your job to look after me," Kendall said.

Can’t stand to see her criticised.

Kendall pushed the smug, sneaking memory aside. "Nice set-up they had, too—that damn cow bell."

This, of course, meant nothing to Sukata, but Kendall wasted no time pulling open the concealed slit in the tent wall and marching back out the way she’d come. No surprise that the red-headed scut was gone, but he’d left his table of wares behind.

Kendall took the entire line of fine-cast bells, each a different size from each other, and tossed her paltry collection of Kolan coin on the table in return.

"There," she said, handing half the bells to Sukata, and refusing by so much as a dropped glance to acknowledge that anything could have upset her. "Whatever Herself wants with musical instruments, this’ll surely be more than enough."

She spared a moment to collect the Pest, then led them effortlessly back to the House, shrugging off any suggestion that the Dezart and the Peaceward might want to ask them questions. The one thing Kendall didn’t need, at the moment, was more questions from Samarin.

He’d asked quite enough already.