“The Imperial fears their greatest weapon. They shun and neglect those burdened with the divine spark, shackling them to thieves and murderers in the name of safety. Ignorant merchants lead their people, blind to the world. How they have found success, beneath duplicitous gods and disarmed amongst foreign realms, remains a mystery.”
- Jalor’s first letter, Jalor of Thala (398 I.Y.)
* * *
23rd day of Indern, 406th Imperial Year
17th Year of Emperor Rufenrich Konreig’s Reign
Heizl smiled, one corner of her mouth twisting upwards as she watched the room’s currents. Drunken lordlings slurred and laughed at one another’s arrogant boasts and simple-minded jokes. Servants forced blank expressions upon their faces as they wove between the boisterous young men. Such ignorant youth would someday make up the Imperial Court. The mage’s smirk faded. Those boys would be recognised a hundred times over before her.
Older nobles, tempered by experience, spoke in twos and threes. With rare exception, they held cups of strong wine, but few did more than wet their lips, hiding their sobriety from rivals and friends alike. Heizl strained her hearing towards the nearest group, struggling to pick up on the subject of their conversation. Trade, territory, and politics, no doubt. Foreign representatives – Seorsan, Thalan, even the odd Tszerrichan – approached such groups with their petitions. It’d be a simple thing to reach out and twist their emotions, though Heizl saw no reason to waste her strength upon them.
Standing at the centre of a ring of his subjects, Thaun stood alone at the room’s edge, his back towards the golden throne. Heizl watched as some of the nobles pursued the Emperor, leaving a handful to vie for her cousin’s reluctant attention.
Frida trailed behind their uncle, interacting little with the swarming nobility. Upon the floor, Korten devoured any food that came within reach. Heizl recognised several individuals of note – Toland and Dasimir Strahl, among others – as they mingled. Under normal circumstances, such individuals would’ve drawn their own lines of admirers, but the guests had only one goal in mind tonight.
Copper rod in one hand, the arcane focus they all expected her to carry, she absentmindedly waved away an approaching servant with the other. Heizl dipped inside her own mind, before reaching out. Something, like a bright light at the corner of her vision, pulled at her. She’d first noticed it weeks before, and at the time it had fascinated her. The way it drew in all around it, souls’ strands flickering as if in a current, mesmerised her. Though she made no habit of spending time with her colleagues at the Spire, those that she’d crossed paths with seemed ignorant of the phenomena. She should’ve asked her mentor about it.
Heizl shook her head. She could afford to get distracted later.
The thread between her and Thaun remained strong as ever, still ringing with her recent communication. Those closest, as well as the handful of Shadows scattered throughout the room, spared the mage a cautious thought, but few others looked her way. Even Zecht felt preoccupied by the extravagant sights before them.
Compared to the meagre handful of strands linked to her, the multitude that stretched towards her cousin challenged her senses. Heizl gave the most cursory of inspections to Thaun’s tangle of strings – the interwoven professionalism and friendship of Lena and Sigren, and the sharp wires that extended out from Frida – before settling in close to the soul upon which they met.
“Ready?” She sent the message running down their shared thread, its silvery length humming with the sound.
“I think so,” Thaun whispered back, though the words came through as clear as if he sat alongside her.
“You won’t have long. Where do you wanna meet?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in the garden?”
“I never knew you enjoyed stargazing, even with the Comet due. I’ll find you.”
“Are you really sure about this?”
The length of the hall away, Heizl smiled. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You get another Shadow assigned?”
“And you’ll just get a slap on the wrist. So, when I tell you, move quickly, alright?”
“I don’t know…” Uncertainty hung from Thaun’s whisper. “Maybe I should just stay here and put up with all this.”
“Oh, come on!” Heizl snorted. “You’re not enjoying yourself here, and I can have fun wherever we go.”
“But what if you hurt someone? Or you exhaust yourself?”
“What else am I going to do with myself tonight? It’s only a little taxing, and it means we can catch up properly. I’ll sleep in and eat well tomorrow, and I’ll be fine.”
“You might be right…”
“Of course I am.” Heizl took a deep breath. “Now, stop arguing, and hold on.”
As she ran arcane fingers over Thaun’s branching strings, each thread sang at her touch. For a second, she wondered if musicians felt like this, their every caress altering the minds of those around them. Casting the thought aside, she moved along the strands and glanced at her cousin’s soul. They met in a single knot, a hundred channels funnelling into one tangled mess of intrigue.
As if crouching to inspect them, Heizl leant in. Reaching past the incandescence, more details grew clear. Ambitions, envy, and lust – every primal, human instinct flowed like driftwood down a river. Like such a stream, they moved in one direction, each gravitating towards Thaun with rare exception.
She pulled on the mass of bright strands, their fibres growing taut like thread on a spinning wheel, and a handful of the more sober individuals around her changed, their moods drawing close to the surface. Easing in as close as she dared, her own writhing emotions a meagre reflection of those before her, she gripped the knot. At the contact, the sensations before her pulsed and grew. Every primal urge washed over her, threatening to consume her identity, even rising to overwhelm her sense of self.
Muscles – crude, mundane matter – tensed as she suppressed a growl and gritted her teeth. With a wrenching motion, she tightened her grip. For a brief second, a handful of souls, Sigren and Lena among them, resisted. She tugged, and they too came free.
Sliding into place among them, her own threads weaving over and under those that had reached towards Thaun, Heizl forced tranquillity upon herself. One by one, she found strands that she held in common with her cousin. Pulling them closer, slender tendrils reached out from her being, stubborn will wrestling the stolen knot like a thief ambushing their victim.
The room’s tone changed once more, emotions coming under control and conversation returning to normal.
Blood pounded in her ears as she kept the tangled minds bound to her. The mage’s muscles strained, a crude reflection of the arcane forces upon her.
“Get on with it,” she whispered through clenched teeth, unsure if Thaun had heard her.
Had anyone looked then, they might have seen her skin pale, her breathing quicken, or her shoulders tremble. If not for the veil of hair and her raised collar, they might’ve noticed the patch of dry, grey skin upon her neck spread. Instead, those closest – including a pretty Seorsan woman who’d proven open to Heizl’s advances despite rising political tensions – only cared for their own business. Such self-centeredness didn’t last.
Heizl opened one eye just as admiring faces started turning her way. Powerful nobles and ambitious individuals faced her, eager humanity flowing towards her like the turning tide. Even Toland, the centre of his table’s attention, stole furtive glances her way. She closed her eyes again.
In her ethereal grip, their attention squirmed and bucked as they resisted her unnatural hold. Her face twisted into a scowl, a trickle of sweat beading upon pale skin.
As she released an anxious breath, she relinquished the room’s attention. Chin dipping onto her chest, Heizl took several deep lungfuls of sweet air. She slipped back to her body, the taut aches of physical exhaustion setting in. The sensation of blood rushing through her veins returned to her, and bright hues swirled before her eyes.
Looking up, she blinked several times, before focusing on the man looming over her.
“You’re not…” Dasimir frowned down at her, untamed brows furrowed. He flicked his gaze to those nearest before returning to Heizl. “Did you do something to me, girl?”
Heizl hid a yawn behind a raised hand and scratched at the back of her neck. “I didn’t do anything, governor.”
Rage smouldered in his eyes. “What did you do?”
“I’m hoping–” She stood, steadying herself on the wooden table. “–that I made a good impression.” Heizl held out a hand, smiling.
“It takes more than a firm hand and a grin to impress me, Fitz.”
Even drained, Heizl’s features didn’t betray her emotions. With a sneer, Dasimir turned his broad back and made to walk away. The mage’s whisper snuck out louder than she’d meant. “It impresses your daughter just fine.”
Spinning, the governor seized a handful of her shirt front, bodily pulling her away from the table. A low growl escaped his throat. “If I ever find out you’ve gone near Jilia again, I’ll kill you myself, Shadows be damned.”
“Governor?” Heizl held his wrist, but Dasimir’s grip only tightened. “You’re making a scene.”
“Every man, woman, and child here would thank me for putting down a bastard mage like you.”
“Maybe.” she cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “But a member of the Royal Family just disappeared. No, don’t look around. How do you think it’d look if, at the same time, you’re seen pummeling his cousin?”
“I–” Dasimir started, his hold weakening.
“Didn’t think it through? I can tell. Jilia would’ve, I think.” For all her weariness – affecting so many at once took its toll – a smile still crept back across her face. “Governor? May I make a suggestion?”
“I swear, girl, someday–”
“Just clap me on the shoulder, smile, and walk away. Your career – Voids damn it – your legacy will thank you for it.”
For a moment, Dasimir readjusted his grip as he considered. Eventually, he took a deep breath and released her. Heizl nearly collapsed as her weight settled back onto her own feet. The governor took her hand in a surprisingly deft motion, and planted a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. A wolfish smile curled behind his beard.
“I look forward to seeing you again soon, Your Highness.”
“Until next time,” Heizl flashed her own humourless grin, and watched as Dasimir walked away, the crowd parting around him. She’d have avoided him herself, if she could.
Still weary, she braced a hand on the table to steady herself. The moment of weakness passed, and she straightened.
Around her, Heizl listened to the crowd’s rising mob mentality. Not the shift in attention that her sorcerous meddling had caused, but a swelling unease, as of waters rising around a monstrous benthos before it breached the surface. By now, people’s thoughts would be returning to their normal paths. Drunk or not, they’d soon suspect someone had manipulated them.
Heizl edged through those gathered close around her, and made for the glass doors leading from the hall. Halfway there, murmurs of confusion rose as she caught movement across the room. The Shadowmaster whispered something into Rufenrich’s ear. Shocked expressions crossed their faces before both set their jaws in stony resolve.
Shadows left their posts, responding to Frida’s subtle hand gestures. Heizl watched as Zecht joined them from his own hiding spot. Each of the men, trained to protect mage from Imperials and Empire from mage, moved unseen among the Court. Only someone of the Spire, used to their ways, might notice their change of behaviour. Others stood a better chance of spotting Lena as she, accompanied by Sigren, peeled away to seek Thaun less inconspicuously.
Heizl kept walking, smiling at a Royal Guardsman and gesturing to her copper focus. Others would soon realise that the Crown Prince had disappeared, and then security would swarm beyond the actions of a few Shadows. For now, as she stepped into the balmy evening, regret stirred – but only briefly. There were worse crimes than kindness.
Behind her, the hall’s sounds changed. The subtle murmur of low conversation and distant music replaced the drunken revelry’s drone. No one out here missed Thaun’s presence yet. If it stayed that way, she might still salvage the evening.
Heizl waved, and a servant bearing several bottles changed direction towards her. Relieving the man of two, she looked around. Younger guests sat in small groups upon the terrace. Lanterns, their crystal imported from Seorsa before the island nation had closed its ports, cast faint shadows. Couples, out from under the watchful eyes of chaperones, shared quiet words beneath an amber sky.
The mage smiled. If she hadn’t agreed to help her cousin, she might’ve done the same. Instead, she looked beyond the stone terrace, where immaculate lawns, pruned hedgerows, and bright flowers opened out into the Royal Gardens.
A hundred paces distant, the Palace’s outer wall loomed over all but the tallest manicured tree. She didn’t remember the Civil War, when her family had fled their Capital, but its scars lingered. Invisible in the dying light, patches of the ramparts still bore gouges. Engineers had replaced several lengths after they’d become unstable from repeated assault by loyalist battalions and siege weaponry, but signs of their work remained.
Above the walls, the first of the night’s stars bloomed against the dying light. A blanket of grey clouds whispered in from the south, smothering them one by one. Through the rolling shapes, a gap formed, revealing the lights behind it. Though she saw a few flickers of constellations, something else distracted her.
A few weeks before, nobles had attended countless gatherings to watch the Comet. Heizl had even attended a couple herself, not that she’d spent much time stargazing. The rich and privileged had turned the whole phenomenon into another excuse to dance and drink. She rarely had difficulty entering such events, but she’d rarely felt truly welcome in such company.
The Comet had other groups’ attention too. Scholars across the Empire pointed telescopes skywards to track its trajectory, predicting when it would next return. Mages plied their magicks, exploring the celestial body’s effects upon the arcanosphere. Priests of all faiths consulted texts and meditated in prayer, seeking some omen or sign in its passage.
Heizl herself didn’t care in quite the same way as everyone else. Sure, she appreciated a good light show as much as anyone, but she’d found something else of value in the Comet’s appearance. With most of her colleagues at the Spire obsessing over the Comet’s passage, she was bound to find an opportunity to impress the Highmages with something more practical. Already, without their distractions, magic felt easier, like running downhill.
She hesitated, the air thick with the unseen swirls of sorcery. More than just the usual hum of background magic she’d grown accustomed to, or even the aftereffects of her own machinations. Alone outside, without Zecht to guard her back, Heizl raised her copper focus in a clumsy, one-handed, grip.
As a dry, acrid smell touched her senses, she recognised its source. The familiar voice that followed – deep and gravelly – only partly reassured her. “I thought I might find you here.”
Heizl breathed a little easier as she took in the man stepping from dissipating darkness a short distance away. In a baggy, ill-fitting robe, he leant upon a silver-tipped cane, hands lost within deep sleeves. The scent of mothballs filled the air.
“Hastigr.” She lowered her makeshift club. “You were quick. Keeping an eye on me?”
“Hardly.” The old mage grunted a derisive laugh. “You interrupted my meditations. Sheltz’s Comet has visited before, and will again, but it should not be ignored. Opportunities to study such distortions aren’t common.” He straightened slightly. “Mere coincidence that I quested in this direction when I sensed your activities. Had I known it was your usual irresponsible antics, I might not have responded so quickly.”
“Oh.” Heizl shuffled her feet. “You didn’t know I was here?”
“Still such a fragile ego?” Hastigr smirked and turned to look out across the terrace to the shadowy undergrowth beyond. “I knew you were here, Heizl. I couldn’t have arrived so quickly if you hadn’t been.”
“Huh?” She followed his gaze, but saw nothing new. “I don’t understand.”
“You will. But not tonight.”
“Voids, I’d forgotten how annoying you are. Shouldn’t you be working? Or bothering someone else? I’m not exactly your student anymore.”
He smiled, staring outwards at nothing in particular. “The bond between a master and apprentice is not so easily discarded.”
“Seriously though. Won’t someone notice if the Nexus isn’t running?”
“Hmm? Oh, there are no more appointments tonight. Besides, I anchored a glamour there for my Shadows. It helps when they feel that their contribution is a necessary one.”
“And how do I know this isn’t some illusion? You’ve done it to me before.” Not entirely paying attention to him, Heizl glanced back over one shoulder. No one else on the terrace looked in their direction. Despite their cultural fear of magic, few Imperials could resist gawking when witnessing a mage at work. At the sight of a Highmage appearing among them, stares should’ve turned their way, but she’d long grown used to strange reactions to Hastigr’s presence.
“I take my duties very seriously, thank you.” From anyone else, the tone might’ve hinted at humour.
“So, now what? Going to tell me off for sneaking out? Send me back to my Shadow?”
His voice dropped to a murmur. “I can’t imagine it took much to slip away from him.”
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
“He didn’t sign up expecting to be paired with you. I suspect his attention was already elsewhere.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you’re not the only one with family loyalties, Heizl. He, too, would rather spend his time with kin than working.”
Heizl kept her mind from straying. She didn’t know what thoughts the Highmage might sense from her. Even the gentlest probe towards her would likely notice the control she now exerted, but she’d rather that than the alternative. Secrets, once loose, didn’t return easily to their hiding places. Even edging close to those that she held dearest like she did now – about a brother, a parent, and a promise – presented an uncomfortable level of risk.
With some effort, she returned to the subject at hand. “You’re sure? I don’t remember Zecht saying anything about his family.”
“A sister, specifically. She learns within the Spire.” Hunched neck straightening and weight upon his cane, Hastigr turned his gaze skywards to stare up at the stars. “Well-behaved, and mildly promising. When your Shadow was fortunate enough to find a patron to fund his commission, I suspect he’d envisioned a partner that he shared kinship with. Not you.”
Narrowing her eyes upon him, she stayed quiet. Mages weren’t so different from the Courts. The weak gravitated towards the powerful in the hope of recognition and advancement. Men and women sought greater responsibilities in the hope of gaining greater importance.
Few flocked to the man beside her though. Even Korten, insufferable and brash, had more petitioners than Hastigr. She’d heard the whispers, of course. Dwindling sanity, strange appearances, and unfounded claims. Only the most desperate wouldn’t have their doubts when approaching the elderly Highmage.
Still, the Emperor tolerated him. More than just tolerated, in fact. The Empire didn’t have another mage like him. No one else could run the Nexus, not without a massive investment of personnel and stockpiled essence. Without it, they’d be forced to rely on the old methods of communication, with messages taking days to cross from one city to the next.
“You can ask me now,” he said, startling Heizl from her thoughts.
“Ask you what?”
“How I travelled so quickly.”
“I don’t remember asking.”
“You didn’t.” Hastigr eyed her sidelong, a faint smile rising. “But you were curious.”
“I guess.” She cocked her head. “Fine. How’d you get here?”
Satisfied at some small victory, his smile broadened. “There are paths and beacons beyond the Nexus, Heizl.” He reached into the folds of his robe, jewellery gently chiming, before revealing a wrinkled hand with thumb and forefinger pressed tight together.
“Right, you magicked yourself here. I’ve seen you pull that trick before.”
“Don’t be impudent.”
Heizl rolled her eyes, but half-closed them as she fell within herself and reached outwards. The Highmage blazed mere feet from her, a burning thread bridging the two of them. It glowed like a chain fresh from the forge, each link a different experience or bond. His soul swirled and danced, a handful of colours twisting together but never mixing.
Pushing aside his luminous form, Heizl dug deeper. Weariness grew, but she pressed on.
Living souls shone, their lights flickering and shifting as their emotions flared and changed. The inanimate proved more challenging. They cast no light of their own, instead forming dim shapes, poorly reflecting all that surrounded them. If not for the coruscating fire thrown outwards by Hastigr, she might not have sensed what he held.
“A hair? You got here by hair?”
“I came here by your hair.” He chastised. “Pay attention. Find its threads.”
“Because that’s so easy,” she drawled, but nonetheless fell more fully into the web before her.
Sorcerous senses focused upon the slender shape in his hand, a silhouette of flickering shadow against soullight. The hair faded in and out of her vision, reluctant to be spotted.
She understood what he wanted her to see only moments before running out of patience. Too small to catch the light, and casting none of its own, she’d have missed it under other circumstances. Beneath spectral fingertips, she felt the hair’s own thread. Not the tangled web of a person, but the singular, gossamer-thin connection to where it had come. The bond linked it to her still.
As if from a great distance, she heard Hastigr’s voice. “All things are connected.”
“Fascinating, really.” Blinking, she relinquished her arcane sight, eyes adjusting to the lamplight of the terrace once more. “I don’t get why it’s so important though.”
“Some bonds are harder to see,” Hastigr continued as if not having heard her. “Cause and effect. Chance. Time.”
“Look, I’m getting a headache. If you wanted to show me this, you could’ve called for me at any time.”
““There’s more you can do, when you learn,” he said. “Watch.”
“Unless this is going to–” She never finished her sentence. Though Heizl didn’t see what the Highmage did, she felt its effects.
The breath caught in her lungs. Muscles strained against an unseen cage. Blood pounded in her ears as panic rose.
Alongside her, Hastigr stood still, eyes half-closed and fist clenched. At his wrist, silver charms trembled. The night air – already cool – chilled further.
As swift as control had left, it returned. Like a puppet with cut strings, Heizl sagged.
She glowered. “Really?”
“You’ll appreciate it someday,” he said.
“No apology?” she spat. “Do I get to be a jackass when I’m a Highmage?”
“You still desire that?”
She straightened. “Did you want something, Hastigr? Or have you just missed tormenting me in the name of education?”
“Like I said, this isn’t all about your delicate ego.” He stood, one hand still on the parapet to steady himself. “I should go.”
“Just like that?”
“You should be glad, Heizl. In my absence, you’ll have the freedom to weave whatever magicks you wish. I won’t interfere tonight.”
“Fine. Go.” She turned towards the dark gardens beyond, hiding the hard expression growing upon her face.
She could almost hear his wry smile. “You’ve got potential, child. More than many. Don’t squander your gifts.”
Before she could speak, let alone turn towards her one-time mentor, Heizl felt a wave of pressure roll over her like air before a storm. A stale smell, like dry ash, filled the air. For a moment, a handful of the nobles out on the terrace glanced her way. Whether they saw a mage, a servant, or another guest, they soon returned to their own conversations, uninterested in whatever disturbance had caught their attention.
Heizl shook her head and glanced around, scratching at the back of her neck. She hadn’t come out here to enjoy the view, nor to reunite with an old teacher. She thought of the last few times she’d visited the garden. A stray memory rose in her mind, and, in an instant, she knew where she’d find Thaun.
Her pilfered bottles in one hand and useless focus in the other, she strode across the terrace, avoiding the guests, and along a winding path. Gravel crunched beneath her soft shoes, rounded edges pressing through the thin soles to rub against her feet. Low borders of blooming plants and shrubs gave way to arching fruit trees that shivered in the breeze over her head.
Gravel and stone faded into verdant grass and shadows deepened all around her. Several twists and turns in, and statues loomed out from the undergrowth. Rulers, heroes, and dragonslayers the lot of them. Poor company for a bastard and a mage like her. Thin flowers hung from the crowns of many, and the soft scent of autumn roses filled the air.
The path opened out into a small square of manicured grass. A circular, stone bench surrounded a tall, well-pruned tree at the centre, while flowers grew within its shadow. As children, they’d used it for various games when away from supervising eyes – hide and seek, king of the hill, let’s pretend – yet Heizl hadn’t visited it in years. Nostalgia trickled inwards, but she pushed it aside as she looked to the two figures perched on opposite sides of the stone ring.
Thaun sat with elbows on knees and his chin in his hands. He stared unseeing into the middle distance, eyes glazed and unfocused. His face held a flat expression, as if a neutral look was better than how he truly felt. Heizl had seen the same bearing in him a dozen times, most often when her cousin’s entourage had called for her to try and break Thaun out of another melancholic episode. Such expressions seemed less common of late, but she suspected that Thaun had simply grown better at hiding them.
A quarter turn around the circle, a breathtaking woman, a little younger than Heizl, perched with feet together and skirts wrapped around her legs. Upon seeing her, any thoughts of her cousin’s depression left her. Auburn hair tumbled down the woman’s back and over smooth shoulders in loose curls, hiding the gold and bronze trim of her green dress. She stared at an unseen point off to one side, her face as composed as the statues around them. The maiden couldn’t have failed to see either of them. If she’d discussed anything with Thaun, their conversation had already died.
Weariness forgotten, the mage felt something primal rise inside her. She struggled to find words for the emotion that came with it. Confusion, despair, hope, desire – none of them accurately described the feelings welling up within her. Her mere sight drove barbs into Heizl’s soul, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
Had she opened her sorcery to see the tangle of bonds between the three there among the roses, she might have seen the mismatched feelings among each of them. She might have seen her cousin’s regret, or the other woman’s confused emotions. Heizl might’ve found shared childhood memories, or broken hearts.
Instead, she smiled.
Honeyed words had always rested well within Heizl’s reach. Whether cutting or charming, she’d long borne the talent for them. Faced with the young lady before her, silence filled her mouth.
The woman looked up, recognition forming on her calm face. Wide eyes blinking rapidly, she smiled. “Hello, Heizl.” Around the bench from her, Thaun faced the mage.
Heizl paused, staring back. Even in the dim light, the woman’s blue-green eyes burned through her. Behind Heizl, the feasting and festivities continued unabated.
Her various intimate conquests flashed through her mind. Soldiers and entertainers. Nobles and commonfolk. She’d charmed each and every one of them. Sometimes several at once. It amazed her how a simple approach – just the right amount of confidence, a touch of flattery, or appealing to their seemingly universal desire for the forbidden – opened so many doors. Despite every experience behind her, she struggled to speak.
“Heizl?” the woman repeated.
She shook her head, before drawing out a smile to wear. “Jilia…” In three long strides she stood by her. Jilia proffered a porcelain-like hand, which, after a moment of hesitation, Heizl took and helped her to her feet.
“Didn’t you read my letters? I said I’d be here,” said Jilia.
“I’ve been away,” she shook her head. “Spire business. I’ve not had much time for reading.” Heizl looked away, unable to hold her gaze for long. “Sorry,” she murmured, glancing at Thaun before shifting her attention back.
“It’s fine. The Spire must be as complicated as the Courts. I know you can’t always get away.”
“I would if I could,” she took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I was expecting to see you here.”
“Heizl?” Thaun interrupted, rubbing at his face as he squinted at them. “Did anyone see us leave?”
She didn’t take her eyes from Jilia as she turned towards her cousin. “No, but they’ll all be looking for you by now.”
“Are we going to be in trouble?”
“Probably a little.” She shrugged, a smile growing as she looked at Jilia. “But it’ll give the Court something to talk about.”
“I believe they have a different subject in mind,” the noblewoman smiled and eyed Thaun. A girl’s voice at the back of Heizl’s mind shouted to make Jilia look back her way, though she gritted her teeth and ignored its pleas.
“Probably the same they he always have,” said Heizl. “Family, legacy, stability. That sort of thing.”
“I guess.” Thaun continued pacing.
Jilia cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “So, Thaun told me you were making a distraction so he could sneak out. What did you have in mind after your disappearing act?”
“I don’t mind,” said Thaun. “It’s just nice to be somewhere less stifling.”
“I’ve a suggestion.” Heizl raised her stolen wine. “Thirsty?”
“We don’t have any glasses,” objected Jilia.
Heizl smiled. “I’m sure we’ll survive.” She handed one to her and raised the other to her lips. For a split second she felt Jilia’s light touch as she took the drink from her. A bolt of lightning shot up her arm at the contact. She looked away.
She’d never quite known where she stood with Jilia. For every flaw that the Courts saw in Heizl, they found a virtue in the young woman. A noble heritage rather than her own questionable parentage; a traditionally feminine aristocrat while she ate, drank, and twisted souls. If not for spending several years together as small children, protected from the horrors of civil war while their houses battled together, she couldn’t imagine them sharing much common ground.
It felt wrong to be grateful for a conflict that killed thousands. If not for the Kuhlner family’s attempt to seize the Throne, then she might never have gained one of her most valued relationships. She just wished that her sorcery gave her the wisdom to understand just what that relationship was.
The three of them had spent months at a time together as youths, before the Spire had taken Heizl in. Lessons, Court functions, festivals, all of them at one another’s sides. She hadn’t realised at the time that it had all been a dance to arrange a betrothal between Jilia and Thaun. It had sent painful tremors through her own fledgeling feelings back then. She’d never found the courage to ask why it hadn’t worked out.
“Should you be drinking?” asked Thaun. “Aren’t you tired after… after whatever it was you did back there?”
She held up a hand, taking several more swallows before lowering the bottle and speaking. “It’s nothing some good wine and better company won’t fix. Don’t worry about it.”
“Sounds like an excuse to drink,” Thaun held out an open hand. “But, in that case, I might as well join you.”
Heizl took another swig then handed her cousin the bottle. She waited until Thaun lifted it to his mouth, keeping him quiet, before Heizl faced Jilia. “How long are you in Reiget City for?”
“As long as it takes for Father and the Emperor to fall out again. Or for them to find some compromise.” She smiled as she ran an absentminded finger around the rim of the clay vessel. “He said it might take some time. I believe him.”
Heizl stifled a grimace at the obvious implications of such meetings. “Well, it’s nice to have you around again. How long has it been?”
“Since I was here in the gardens? Or since we were all without chaperones?” Mischief and nostalgia tugged at her eyes. “Probably when Father suggested marriage the last time.”
“That reminds me,” Thaun raised a hand, drawing their attention. “You two keep in touch by letters, right? I think the Governor thought you were writing to me.” Heizl and Jilia glanced at each other. “He’s going to look into it.”
“What’s so bad about that?” the noble asked with faux innocence. “They’re just letters.”
“He was pretty disappointed I hadn’t spoken to you recently,” Thaun ventured, glancing sidelong at his cousin. “I don’t think he liked the idea of his daughter speaking to a…” He looked away.
“To what?” said Heizl. “A bastard? A woman?”
“I was going to say a mage.” Thaun winced, averting his eyes.
“Oh. Well, he probably dislikes that too.”
“Sorry about that,” said Jilia. “He doesn’t care much for the Spire.”
“Not many do,” Heizl sighed.
“You should have heard him when he went through the Nexus.”
“Thaun’s worse.” She gestured towards him. “He threw up last time.”
“I don’t like travelling, alright?” Thaun threw up both hands, a drop of wine escaping the open bottle. “There’s the smell, and I get all dizzy…”
A flash of light and a loud, cracking sound hid Heizl’s response. The three of them turned towards the noise, eyes tracking upwards. Against the darkening sky, a second firework went off, burning a web-like pattern into their retinas. Several more erupted against the cloudy backdrop in rapid succession. For that moment, their bright bursts drowned out the cerulean light of Sheltz’s Comet. Beyond their peaceful circle of trees, other watchers clustered upon the terrace, faces tilted skywards.
More fireworks followed them into the air, launching from somewhere on the other side of the Palace. The Empire’s citizens, down below in the sprawling city, looked up to see the coruscating colours. Mages watched from the gilded cages of the Spire, while Shadows – stalking targets from the rooftops, or training beyond the Capital’s walls at their Forge – fled from the bursts of light.
“I’ve not seen fireworks recently,” muttered Thaun to no one in particular.
“My father imported some from Daqin to celebrate defeating Fjujhost,” said Jilia, distractedly. “That was months ago though. I don’t think he’s decided to use… them… yet…”
The sounds of guests swelled, their muted conversations picking up in excitement. Even the powerful and wealthy turned into children before a series of pretty lights.
Heizl looked away, eyeing Jilia instead. The noble remained staring skywards, the occasional flood of light illuminating the smooth lines of her face. A wondrous smile tugged at her full lips. For all the expenses involved in importing the scores of fireworks, she found herself unable to stop watching the woman at her side. She lost track of how long she stared at her.
A louder explosion cut through her, reverberating down to her bones. Heizl looked away from Jilia, and turned towards the display. No star-shaped clouds of smoke, no flash of light to accompany a larger rocket. She felt a pang of disappointment that she’d missed part of the show’s finale.
Something tugged at her senses, and she felt the faint pull of her magic, like a dog pulling on its leash. Her two companions continued watching the fireworks, as she turned back and forth between them, searching for the subtle disturbance around her.
Another dozen heartbeats and she might have projected herself outwards, burning the wine in her belly to search for its source. Instead, over the vintage’s heady sensation, a familiar, acrid, aroma joined the smell of blossom. Smoke.
On either side of her, Jilia and Thaun turned their gazes from the sky. As they glanced at each other, and Heizl opened her mouth to speak, a distant scream broke the night.
As one, the trio turned back towards the Great Hall, just as another flash of light washed over them. A shockwave followed, washing over both bastard and noble. More cries of alarm broke the growing night, interspersed by the unmistakable sounds of breaking glass.
Huw Carrington - Author 