Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Sorcerer's Widow

“You seem very sure of this,” Dorna said. “I thought you said you’d never been out here.”

“I heard about what it was like out here,” Kel said.

“You believed it?”

“It happens some places inside the walls, too.”

“Where?”

“Smallgate.”

“So you’ve seen people do that? Grab things off wagons?”

“I was one of them,” Kel said.

Dorna did not say anything for a moment, but sat silently, the weapon in her hand, as they rode into the shadow of Grandgate’s towers.

“I thought you said the guard protected people inside the walls,” she said.

“They do,” Kel said. “But they can’t be everywhere at once, and I knew where to hide from them.”

There were half a dozen soldiers in red and gold standing in front of the immense open gates, watching as civilians hurried in and out of the city; one of them waved to Kel, and he brought the wagon to a halt. The guardsman ambled toward them, spear in hand, sun glinting from his breastplate.

“So you stole things off wagons?” Dorna asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kel said, hoping she would not say anything too incriminating once the soldier was in earshot.

“Ever get anything good?”

“Not really. This tunic I’m wearing is probably the best thing I ever stole that way.”

She turned to stare at the old red tunic just as the guardsman trotted the last few steps and said, “ Hai ! What’s in the wagon?”

Startled, Dorna looked from Kel to the guard. “What?”

Kel jerked his head toward Dorna. “It’s hers,” he said. “I’m just helping.”

The soldier nodded. “So what have you got there?” he asked Dorna. He set the butt of his spear on the ground by his foot, and gestured at the wagon with his free hand.

Dorna looked helplessly at Kel.

“He just wants to know whether you’re bringing anything illegal,” Kel said, trying to sound reassuring. “They stop any wagon they don’t recognize.”

“How am I supposed to know what’s illegal here?” Dorna asked uneasily.

Kel sighed. He turned to the guard. “She’s a sorcerer’s widow,” he explained. “She’s brought her husband’s magic to sell.”

The guard frowned. “Is any of it dangerous?”

“Yes,” Kel said, before Dorna could react. She glared at him.

The soldier just nodded, then turned his head and bellowed over his shoulder, “Amdis! Get over here!”

“What are you doing ?” Dorna hissed to Kel. “Why did you say that?”

“You don’t want to lie,” Kel said quietly. “Sometimes they have magic that can tell.”

“So you just tell him that I have dangerous magic?”

“Yes,” Kel answered, slightly puzzled at Dorna’s obvious annoyance. “ That’s not illegal. Ethshar is full of dangerous magic.”

“Oh,” Dorna said. She straightened up and looked at the soldier, who smiled cheerfully at her. “Then what is illegal?”

“Swords, if you don’t have a permit,” Kel answered. “Unlicensed oushka in anything bigger than a bottle. Baby dragons. Poisonous fruit. Things like that.”

“Listen to your friend,” the guardsman said, grinning and shifting his weight to lean on his spear. “Sounds like he knows the rules.”

“Oh,” Dorna said again.

“There are rules about magic, but we don’t handle those,” the soldier explained. “That’s up to the magicians. If you’ve got forbidden wizardry, the Wizards’ Guild will let you know; if it’s bad witchcraft, the Sisterhood will talk to you. Sorcery, I’m not sure who looks after that, or if there really are any rules. It’s not my concern.”

“I see.”

“So, what else do you have in that wagon, besides sorcery?” the guardsman asked. “Anything we should know about?”

Dorna shook her head. “It’s all sorcery,” she said. “Everything else is in my friend’s wagon.” She pointed at Irien, who was talking to another soldier.

The guardsman straightened, picked up his spear, and pointed it past Dorna at her magical cargo. “ All sorcery? That whole big wagon?”

“That’s right.”

The soldier frowned, then called, “Amdis, bring a friend!”

A moment later another soldier trotted up, spear in hand, and made a hasty bow. “Amdis of Cutler Street,” he said. “I’ll be escorting you. Do you know where you’re going?”

He was smaller and younger than the first guardsman, though still bigger than either Dorna or Kel. Dorna glanced at Kel as the soldier who had originally interrogated them gave them a parting wave and moved on, leaving them in Amdis’ care.

“No,” Kel said.

“What is it you’re carrying?” Amdis asked.

“Sorcery,” Kel said. “A lot of sorcery.”

“No wonder the sergeant thought you needed an escort. You’re a sorcerer?”

“No,” Kel said.

“My husband was,” Dorna replied.

“But you aren’t?”

“No. He died, and I inherited his magic, and I’ve come to sell it.”

“Ah,” Amdis said. “Do you want to store it in the city vaults until you find a place?”

Dorna looked at Kel. “Can we do that?”

Kel turned up an empty hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never had anything worth guarding.”

“There’s a fee,” Amdis explained. “If you want to pay a little extra, the guards will be especially careful.”

“Does that apply to our escort, as well?” Dorna asked.

Amdis spread empty hands. “I wouldn’t mind a few extra bits. But I’ll do my job either way. It’s not required.”

“The vaults aren’t required either, are they?”

“No,” Amdis admitted. “But honestly, unless you have protective spells on the wagon, I’d recommend using them. If you really have an entire wagon full of sorcery-well, do you have protective spells? You said you aren’t a sorcerer; are you a wizard, or anything?”

“No,” Dorna acknowledged. “And the protective spells-well, they aren’t very effective.” She glanced at Kel, who said nothing. He remembered the screaming talisman back in Shepherd’s Well; he doubted that would discourage most of the thieves here in the city.

“Then I’d recommend the vaults.”

Another soldier strode up just as Dorna asked, “Where are they?”

Amdis turned and pointed. “Under the north tower,” he said.

“Here in Grandgate?”

“Sure. After all, it’s mostly people going in and out of the city who need them.”

That seemed to convince her, and twenty minutes later Kel, Dorna, Irien, and half a dozen soldiers were rolling the wagon down a ramp into an iron-lined stone vault, one of a row cut into the foundations of the immense north tower. The oxen had been switched to Irien’s wagon and were waiting patiently on the street above, with yet another soldier watching them.

The lock that secured the vault door used three keys; two stayed with the tower’s staff, and Dorna was given the third. She was offered the option of paying a wizard to put a sealing rune of one sort or another on the vault, as well, but she turned that down; quite aside from professional pride making her reluctant to use any magic other than sorcery, it would have added at least a round of silver to the price. The fee for the vault itself seemed quite reasonable-a mere six bits a day.

Filling out the paperwork took longer than getting the wagon in the vault, but an hour after arriving at the gate the three of them-Dorna, Irien, and Kel-were squeezed onto the driver’s bench of Irien’s wagon, rolling south on Wall Street and looking for a suitable inn.

Or rather, Irien was looking for a suitable inn. Dorna had her tracking talisman in hand, and was fiddling with it. She had kept that and the black weapon; Kel was unsure whether she had taken any other sorcery from her wagon.