Lisa Shearin: Armed & Magical

Only as long as you want it to be.

It wasn’t a whisper; it wasn’t even a voice. It was the truth. If I willed it, the Saghred would shake off its bindings and destroy Banan Ryce.

Banan faded into the background; so did Vegard and the girl. It was just me and the Saghred. The fire burned and the temptation grew. I clenched my jaw against them both. I would not be used.

My finger tightened on the trigger.

A flash of reflected mirror light blinded me.

I dropped to the ground and rolled. If I couldn’t see, I was a target. Banan had been doing more than admiring his reflection. Strong hands grabbed me. I tried to bring the crossbow up.

“It’s me!”

Vegard.

“I’ve got you.” Vegard took the bow and hauled me to my feet, pulling us both behind a stack of packing crates. I couldn’t see the crates, but I could smell the wood.

The girl screamed.

“Stay!” Vegard ordered me.

I nodded past the tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t crying, but apparently my eyes were. Vegard let me go, and I heard him step out from behind the crate. He swore.

I blinked my eyes back to working order and looked where Banan had been.

He was gone and the girl along with him. The surface of one of the big mirrors rippled from recent use. Banan had just dragged his prize out of another mirror somewhere on the island, the mirror this one had been linked to—and there was no way in hell of finding out where it was. Mirror magic left no trace or trail. As a seeker, that was why I really hated mirrors.

Guardians ran into the courtyard; Riston and Phaelan were with them. An officer I didn’t recognize approached us. He saluted Vegard; then he looked at me. I was tear streaked, dust covered, and I imagine I wasn’t much to look at.

“Ma’am, I need you to come with us.”

I knew I wasn’t being arrested—at least I didn’t think I was. It’s just that certain members of my family have had extensive experience with what being arrested looked and felt like. What had just happened to me met both criteria. You know what they say—if it looks like an arrest and feels like an arrest, chances are it is an arrest.

I was sitting on a bench outside Justinius Valerian’s office. Now that I was out of the screaming crowds and actually sitting down, it felt less like an arrest and more like sitting outside the headmaster’s office, waiting to get yelled at. Vegard was sitting next to me. I wasn’t sure if he was there as a guard or as an accused accomplice. I didn’t want to ask. These were Conclave walls; they probably had ears.

I sighed, leaned back, and closed my eyes. That felt good. Too good. “I am in so much trouble,” I muttered, my voice sounding as tired as I felt.

“No, you’re not,” Vegard said.

I opened one eye and looked at him. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve been in trouble.” He glanced around. There was no one in the archmagus’s outer office but us. “This ain’t it. Besides, you just saved the archmagus, the paladin, and every dignitary on that stage—and all the Guardians on duty around it. There’s some grateful men in our barracks right now who think mighty highly of you.”

The Guardian punched me affectionately on the shoulder. I winced. Amazing how using magic can even make your hair hurt.

The big lug was grinning like a maniac. “I think you’re about to become the old man’s pride and joy.”

I smiled a little. It sounded like I was Vegard’s pride and joy, too.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes again. “Then why are we sitting out here?”

Vegard didn’t have an answer for that one.

I did. I’d just magically cut loose in a packed city square, and I was related to the most notorious criminal family in the seven kingdoms. It probably didn’t matter that I was just trying to help. Someone had paid Banan Ryce a lot of money to kill Mychael and the archmagus. Someone who didn’t get what he paid for. And that kidnapped girl was in the worst kind of danger. My mind kept going over what had happened in that courtyard. And I kept telling myself that I never had a clear shot at Banan. Telling myself that didn’t make it any easier to take. When I heard the office door open, I didn’t want to open my eyes and look, but I thought it might be a good idea if I did.

Mychael Eiliesor was standing in the open doorway. He looked pissed. I wasn’t particularly cheerful, either.

Mychael’s hair was rich auburn, his features strong and classically handsome, and his eyes were tropical-seas stunning—and lock-up-your-daughters-and-wives trouble. The outer package was gorgeous; the man inside was dangerous. You didn’t get to be commander of the Conclave Guardians by being any other way.

He looked at my dust-covered self, and then at Vegard.

“Vegard, you’re dismissed. You’re off duty until the evening watch. Get some rest; you’ve earned it.”

I didn’t ask what I’d earned. I’d be finding out soon enough.

Vegard saluted his commander and left. I stood up. I was stiff and achy, but I got there.

“Are you hurt?” Mychael asked.

I shook my head, and managed a weak grin. “But that stage sure was heavy.”

Mychael’s eyes were unreadable. “Yes, it was.”

“I take it the archmagus wants to see me now.” I didn’t ask it as a question.

“He wants to see you.”

Justinius Valerian was the supreme head of the Conclave of Sor cerers, commander in chief of the Brotherhood of Conclave Guardians, and the craftiest spellslinger in the seven kingdoms. I’d heard he was a foul-tempered, nasty old man.

I’d only seen the archmagus of the Conclave at a distance. The old man sitting in front of me holding a glass of whiskey wasn’t quite what I’d imagined. What once might have been lean had turned grizzled. What might have been a luxurious head of hair was now a fringe of downy, white tufts on a liver-spotted head. Only a pair of gleaming blue eyes gave a clue to the man himself.

“So you’re the one who’s giving me ulcers,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do since I’ve driven you to drink.”

Valerian snorted, a sort of laugh. “This job did that years ago. Or at least it gave me a good excuse. After this morning, you probably want to join me.”

“I’ll pass.” I didn’t think dulling my wits around this man would be a good idea.

He took a sip of whiskey, savored it, and swallowed. “I’ve been archmagus for a long time—some people say too long. Dealing with sons of bitches like the Nightshades is part of my job; I knew that coming in. Most times it’s just an annoyance.” His bright blue eyes were hard as agates. “This morning went beyond that, and right now I’m way the hell beyond annoyed. No one endangers my people—especially not my students.” He leveled those eyes on me. “Do you know what you did out there?”

“Death, destruction, and chaos—all courtesy of yours truly.” Nothing like a nice, public display of Saghred-enhanced power to get me all the attention I never wanted.

“You let the cat out of the bag is what you did,” he said point-blank. “You also didn’t cause the destruction and chaos; the Nightshades did that. And because of you, the only people who died today were Nightshades. We have wounded to take care of, but not one of my people was killed, and for that you have my thanks.”

“You and Mychael were his intended targets,” I told him.

“I know.”

“He intends to try again.”

“Of course he will. He didn’t do his job. Whoever hired the bastard isn’t happy with him right now.”

“Any idea who that might be?”

The old man chuckled dryly and took another sip. “That list started when I took office and gets longer every day. The same is true for Mychael here.”