The Traitor and the Chalice Read online

  “Good morning, ma’am. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Neame would like her dinner sent over to the hospital.”

  “Of course, ma’am. It would be a pleasure. Was there anything specific she wanted?”

  “I think she’ll be happy with whatever’s going.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very, very kind of you.”

  The cook’s transformation was startling. Jemeryl wondered if he had once yelled at a sorcerer and was keen never to repeat the mistake. She would ask Vine. In the meantime, the grovelling performance had her struggling to keep a straight face, particularly since, over his shoulder, she could see a teenage girl juggling four large onions, to the admiration of her friends.

  Whatever the cause, the cook’s personality change did not last long after Jemeryl left. Before she had gone a dozen steps, his voice rose to its customary roar. “Don’t do that to the soup. Use a spoon!”

  The junior sorcerers’ quarters occupied a two-story building, built in the Ekranos style of whitewashed plaster and red roof tiles. Access to the upper floor, including her shared study, was via a wooden veranda that ran the length of the building, with a stairway at the end.

  The study itself was not large, although the polished floor and white walls made it seem light and airy. A door on either side led to the adjoining bedrooms. Two desks beneath the window completely filled one wall. The only other furniture was a bookcase and a battered reading chair. A fair amount of rubbish was strewn about—all of it belonging to Vine.

  Jemeryl stared vacantly through the window. She was now free for the rest of the day. Tevi’s watch finished in the early afternoon, and she was not back on the docks until dawn. In a few hours, the two of them would be together. There would be plenty of time for talk—and other things.

  For the first time since she had left the ward, a broad smile spread across Jemeryl’s face.

  Chapter Two—The List of Suspects

  Sunlight fell through the open hatch. It formed a bright patch in the middle of the ship’s hold but did not penetrate the distant corners. The four customs officers needed some time to be sure nothing was hidden among the barrels, crates, and sacks. In fact, it would have taken all day to search the hold properly, but there were quicker methods.

  While her colleagues made a show of prodding the cargo, Tevi surreptitiously kept her eyes on the ship’s mate, noting where he looked and where he avoided looking. It was a truism that while a captain might be unaware of illicit activity on the ship, the mate always knew. Even if they were not directly involved, they would have suspicions. Nine times out of ten, their demeanour betrayed them—if you knew what to look for. Her colleagues had already discovered that Tevi had a talent for it—a nose, as one old hand put it.

  “Is your side clear, Tevi?” Faren called.

  “Yep, I’m happy.” Tevi answered the question meant rather than the one asked. In her opinion, the ship’s mate was feeling guilty about something, but not contraband. An indiscretion in town was more probable. Everyone knew that sailors could be very indiscreet.

  Sunlight was dazzling after the gloom of the hold. The sounds of the dock were no longer muted through the heavy wooden hull. Everywhere, sailors were busy making the ship ready for departure. They found the chief customs officer in a patch of calm by the gangplank, talking politely with the ship’s captain.

  “Fore and aft holds both clear, ma’am,” Faren reported.

  “Good. Wait on the dock.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The mercenaries sauntered down the gangplank and joined the rest of the group assembling on the quay. Shouts greeted them. “What kept you? We’ve been waiting ages.”

  “Some of us like to do a job properly.”

  “True, some do, but that doesn’t explain why you took so long.”

  The jokes were the standard banter Tevi remembered from the guildhall at Lyremouth, masking a strong team spirit—a consequence of their work. Mercenaries lived together, fought together, risked their lives for one another, and then maybe buried someone and moved on to the next job. They had to be close, but detached.

  The friendly insults continued until the chief customs officer joined them and raised her voice.

  “Right, that’s it for today. You’ve got the afternoon off, but I expect to see you here at first light tomorrow. Hangovers or other self-inflicted injuries will get no sympathy. If you can’t work, you won’t get paid.”

  The officer was also in good humour and smiled at the ritual jeers. Her threat had no effect on the high spirits as the mercenaries strolled back to the guild house, making plans for the evening.

  “What do you say we all go to Dano’s tonight?” was one suggestion.

  “Nah. The Navie has more”—the speaker paused for effect—“accommodating clientele. And I feel lucky tonight.”

  “That’s more than I can say for whoever you pick up,” someone threw back.

  “I’ve never had any complaints.”

  “Probably because they all fall asleep from boredom.”

  Amid general laughter, one person embarked on a bawdy pantomime. “Who’s rocking the boat? (yawn) Tell the captain I feel seasick (snore).”

  Another turned to Tevi. “What about you? Have you been to the Navie yet?”

  “No, and I can’t go tonight. I’ve arranged to see a friend.” Her words raised a chorus of whoops.

  “That’s quick work. Hasn’t been in town five minutes.”

  “Will you be seeing a lot of your friend?”

  “Or will you be too horizontal to get a good view?”

  Tevi laughed, though she could feel a blush rising. “It’s someone I met on the journey here.”

  “So you’re not denying that it’s a lover?”

  Taking Tevi’s expression as a yes, one man put his arm around her shoulder. “You know, I don’t understand it. This person could have someone handsome, charming, and witty, like me, but instead, they’ve picked you. Why?”

  “Perhaps Tevi’s friend values critical self-awareness,” someone answered for her.

  The wisecracks continued without letup as the group left the wharves and warehouses behind and entered the district catering to the needs of sailors ashore, full of cheap brothels and rowdy taverns. These included the infamous Navie, which could fairly be described as either.

  Ekranos was a sprawling affair of low buildings and tree-lined squares, designed for the hot summers—a lazy town with the air of an overgrown village. The houses were characterised by whitewashed walls, deep windows, and brightly coloured awnings. Only the main roads were paved; the rest were hard-packed earth. The people were friendly, noisy, and relaxed.

  The avenue from the port ended at the old market square. It had become a slow backwater, even by Ekranos standards, since the creation of the new market on the east side of town many years before. Cobbles were missing, creating potholes. The buildings looked the worse for age. The central fountain was dry and, judging by the weeds in its basin, had been so for some time. However, Ekranos was a wealthy town. The neglect almost felt deliberate. The square seemed comfortable rather than derelict, like a well-worn but favourite pair of boots.

  On one side stood the mercenary guild house. Its red and gold standard hung motionless in the baking afternoon air. Doors and shutters were open. The young mercenaries dawdled in the lofty entrance hall, finalising arrangements for the evening. Their laughter echoed in the cool interior. It reached a crescendo when Tevi took her leave.

  The barrage of ironic cheers and ribald remarks followed her up the stairway, making her laugh despite doubts about what Jemeryl might think if she could hear. She also suspected that her colleagues would be less free with their innuendoes if they realised who they were unwittingly referring to.

  The deference and distrust that most people gave to sorcerers was something Tevi found hard to understand. Jemeryl was exactly the same as everyone else, but Tevi knew her guild colleagues would not be able to
see her as such. At the thought, a smile touched Tevi’s face—well, maybe not exactly the same.

  Tevi reached the room she shared with two other young mercenaries. It had a polished wooden floor and three narrow bunks, each with a shelf above the pillow and a large chest at the foot. Everything was clean and wholly functional. A window overlooked a dusty side street. The dull green paint on its shutters was crazed and flaking from the sun.

  Few personal items were on show: a comb on one of the chests, a scabbard propped in a corner, a damp shirt hung by the open window. There was also Klara, asleep on the shelf above Tevi’s bed. The magpie was Jemeryl’s familiar, bound closely to the sorcerer. At the sound of the door, Klara awoke, but in accordance with the pretence of being merely a tame pet, she made no comment as Tevi opened her footlocker.

  Lying at the bottom of the chest was something that looked like a polishing cloth, innocuous and commonplace. Tevi had been assured that any sorcerer would see through the magic and recognise it for what it was—the Guardian’s warrant. Tevi had it for safekeeping. The risk that somebody at the school might see through the disguise was too great.

  Tevi pushed the warrant to one side and pulled out a towel. She left the room again, heading for the bathhouse.

  *

  Before long, Tevi returned. The dirt and tar of the docks were gone. Wet hair was plastered to her head. She was rubbing it vigorously with the driest corner of her towel when the door opened and one of her roommates entered.

  “I’ve got a present for Klara.” He opened a square of tarpaulin to reveal a handful of live worms.

  Acting more like an overjoyed child than a hardened warrior, the young man enticed Klara onto his arm and then fed his offerings to the grateful magpie.

  “You know, the way she looks at you, you’d almost think she could talk,” he said as the last worm disappeared.

  Tevi restrained her grin. If he but knew it, getting Klara to shut up was more normally the problem. Tevi finished buttoning her shirt and reclaimed the magpie. Her roommate studied her spruced-up appearance for the first time.

  “You meeting someone?”

  Tevi nodded.

  “Don’t suppose we’ll see you again tonight, then.”

  “I’m certainly hoping you won’t.”

  A scattering of people were dotted around the square when Tevi emerged from the guild house: several sailors sprawled in the shade, a noisy band of children with a ball, a pair of mercenaries arriving. Tevi waited until all were out of earshot before speaking to Klara.

  “Can you give directions?”

  “Sure thing, sweetheart. Head for the southern approach, and take the third road on your left.”

  In fifteen minutes, Tevi reached her destination: the Inn of Singing Birds. It was a modest establishment located on a square in the quiet part of town. The unremarkable facade blended with the other buildings. Jemeryl had evidently chosen their rendezvous to reduce the risk of meeting anyone they knew. The inn was neither prestigious enough for sorcerers nor lively enough for mercenaries.

  The shutters downstairs were closed, but the double door was propped open by an old stick on one side and a large stone on the other. Tevi stepped into a long, thin room. A row of tables and benches ran up either side. The floor was red and white mosaic tiles, and the walls were covered in uneven, cream-coloured plaster. In one corner was a wooden counter with barrels stacked behind. From what Tevi could judge, the bar was not yet open for business but would be soon. Tankards were lined up, and a waiter was sweeping the floor.

  As soon as he saw Tevi, the waiter put his broom aside. “Excuse me. You are the mercenary who has come to meet Madam Jemeryl?”

  The words were said routinely in the lilting local accent, but Tevi could sense the disapproval. She was getting used to it. Ordinary people resented the Coven, disliked sorcerers, and regarded Tevi as a traitor to her own kind. I must be predestined to have folk disapprove of my choice of lover, she thought, but it’s an improvement on the islands. They aren’t likely to stone me to death over it.

  “Yes. Is she about?” was all Tevi said aloud.

  “Please follow me.”

  The waiter set off at a brisk pace. A narrow doorway at the rear led to a inner courtyard. From there, a flight of stairs took them to the upper floor.

  “Will you be staying tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “You won’t require a separate room?”

  “No, thank you.” Tevi bit back a less polite reply. She was sure the waiter already knew the answer. He just wanted to make sure Tevi knew that he knew.

  They stopped outside a door. “Madam Jemeryl is expecting you.” The waiter gave a curt nod and trotted away.

  Irritated by his manner, Tevi pushed open the door without knocking. She had a brief impression of polished floorboards, solid furniture, and faded yellow walls before Jemeryl launched herself from a nearby chair and threw her arms around Tevi, threatening to knock them both over.

  Prompted initially by the need to stop herself falling, Tevi clung to Jemeryl’s shoulders. As her balance improved, the embrace became more tender. Laughing, Tevi gently pushed her lover away and looked into her eyes.

  Jemeryl smiled back. “You found your way here all right? I asked the staff to show you up when you arrived.”

  “I gathered. But I don’t think the waiter approves of us.”

  “In what way?”

  “As in someone ungifted, like me, forsaking ordinary citizens and becoming a sorcerer’s lover.”

  “Some people have overactive imaginations. He probably thinks I’ve bewitched you and turned you into a mindless sex slave who must obey my every whim, no matter how debauched or degrading.”

  “Watch out, Tevi. I think Jemeryl’s getting ideas.” Klara offered a warning.

  Closing her eyes, Jemeryl snuggled back into Tevi’s arms. “I’ve got the ideas already. Come on. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

  Tevi did not feel her feet touch the floor—which might have been the case. She was pressed back until her legs hit the bed and she collapsed onto the mattress. Jemeryl all but dived on top of her. Tevi had no objections. Her mouth moulded hard against Jemeryl’s, matching passion with passion. Her hands burrowed under Jemeryl’s shirt, pulling it free of her belt and then rolling it up and exposing more of her lover’s skin to her touch.

  Abruptly, Jemeryl pulled back and brought her knees up, so that she was sitting astride Tevi’s hips. She completed the task Tevi had started, pulling her shirt over her head and leaving herself naked from the waist up.

  Tevi reached out to cup Jemeryl’s breasts. The soft, warm weight filling her hands seemed to fill her soul as well. For this alone, her life would have been forfeit on the islands. Would she have ever dared take the risk? Her grandmother had exiled Tevi just on the suspicion that it was something she might want to do. Tevi smiled. Her grandmother had been right. She wanted to do it very much.

  Tevi moved her grip to Jemeryl’s shoulders and pulled gently, guiding a breast down towards her lips. She took as much of Jemeryl into her mouth as she could, feeling the nipple swell and harden under her tongue.

  Tevi’s whole body was thrumming with desire. Her senses seemed to overflow the normal bounds of her skin. Was Jemeryl spell-casting? Tevi did not care. Jemeryl’s lovemaking was something worth dying for. Although she was very happy that she would not need to.

  *

  With nightfall, the air became chill, sending folk indoors. The bar room at the Inn of Singing Birds was half full of middle-aged merchants and similar guild folk, busy but not crowded. It was conspicuous how everyone ignored Jemeryl and Tevi. All eyes skipped over the spot where they sat, as if their rear corner of the room did not exist. Nobody claimed the spare seats at their table. Although Jemeryl had concealed her black amulet, obviously the staff had informed everyone of her status. Tevi wondered what they had been told about herself and how they judged her.

  Candles were set in wall holders; g
nats swarmed around the flames. A wicker cage over the bar held two canaries, presumably to authenticate the inn’s name. Their high chirps shrilled over the hum of conversation.

  Klara eyed them disdainfully. “Call that a singing bird? Why don’t I give you a chorus of ‘The Good Ship’—”

  “Hush. You’re supposed to be an ordinary bird.” Tevi smothered Klara’s head with her hand while sending an exasperated glance at Jemeryl. The magic might be a mystery to her, but Tevi was well aware that Klara was little more than the sorcerer’s alter ego. Jemeryl had explained the bond as being so close that she was, effectively, doing some of her own thinking in the bird’s head. “Nobody at the guild house seems surprised by me having a pet magpie on my shoulder, but they would if she started talking.”

  “She won’t. I can hardly feel her through the school shields. It’s all I can do to keep her docile. Speech is out of the question.”

  Tevi frowned. “I thought the whole point of me having her was so that she could pass on messages.”

  “The extra-dimensional shields around the school are too strong, but I only need to step outside the school gates to talk to you, which will be much quicker than coming down to town.”

  “And supposing you’re not able to step outside?”

  “That would imply that something serious had happened.”

  “Serious is what I’m worried about.”

  “Don’t.” Jemeryl reached across and squeezed Tevi’s hand. “As long as Klara doesn’t start acting like a wild magpie, you know I’m all right. It means I’m still bound to her.”

  “And if she does start acting like a wild magpie?”

  “Grab the warrant and rush to the school as fast as you can.”

  Jemeryl’s words were not very comforting. Tevi stared at her tankard. Its pewter colour reminded her of the chalice that she had seen so often during her childhood. Back then, the chalice had been a reminder of the bygone sorcerer, but it had not been seen as valuable in itself. Who could have guessed that it would be the cause of so much trouble?