The Cunning Man, page 33
“Interesting,” Yvonne said. Her eyes were streaming, tears running down her face. “We’re going to have to get some eye protection, when we try this again. Tinted lenses, perhaps.”
Adam nodded. Spectacles and their lenses were rare, back home. The people who could afford them could also afford to have their eyes fixed by healers, although ... given how much expertise had already gathered at Heart’s Eye and Heart’s Ease, it was probable they could find someone to make the lenses without either sending away for them or paying far more than they were worth. He rubbed his eyes - they were sore, as if someone had kicked sand into his face - then watched as Yvonne carefully removed the wand from below the bubbling blood. Adam reached into his pocket, found a magic-detecting tile and held it close to the dish. It vibrated so violently he almost dropped it.
“It worked,” he said. “The blood is charged.”
“And it took roughly twenty minutes,” Yvonne said. She looked around, as if she’d only just noticed they were alone. “Take the blood and carry it outside.”
Adam nodded, removed the blood and carried it through the door. The air felt ... weird. He saw Master Dagon and the other sorcerers, keeping a safe distance from the windmill. It made him wonder, reluctantly, if Master Dagon had actually done Lilith a favour. If Praxis had been affected because he’d stood so close to the windmill, how would Lilith have coped?
“I think you should have the honours,” Yvonne said, holding out the wand. “Just jab it at the air.”
“What does it do?” Adam took the wand and eyed it nervously. Wands were often dangerous to both their wielder as well as his target. Even magicians didn't take them lightly, for reasons he didn’t understand. The wood felt warm in his bare hand. “If it hurts someone ...”
“I went with the simplest piece of spellware I could,” Praxis said. “It’s harmless.”
Adam braced himself and jabbed the wand forward. The tip of the wood lit up brightly, so brightly it made his eyes water again. He stared at it, feeling a twinge of awe. The wand was a crude tool, compared to a magician’s raw power, but ... it was so much better than anything he’d had before that he knew everyone would be delighted. His eyes slipped towards Master Dagon, who was watching them with a calculating expression. He wouldn’t be delighted. Nor would Jasper ... a thought struck Adam and he looked around, searching for Jasper. If he was around ...
No sign of him, Adam thought. It’s probably a good thing.
“We just need to check the windmill before we start it up again,” Yvonne said. She raised his voice. “Apprentices, to me!”
Arnold winked at Adam, then hurried off to join the rest of the craftsmen apprentices as they made their way into the windmill. Adam felt a twinge of envy as they moved in unison, chatting with an easy camaraderie as they set up ladders and started to inspect the sails, then replace damaged and broken tiles. A pair of scribes stood at the bottom and scribbled down everything they said, making notes of which components had stood up to stress and which had failed on the spot. It looked as if a surprising number of tiles had burned out completely. Adam was mildly surprised they’d been able to channel any magic into the blood, let alone into the wand itself.
The racket from behind him grew louder as the crowd argued over the meaning of the new development. Adam spotted a pair of people he knew vaguely - Levellers who’d given speeches, if he recalled correctly - chatting with several complete strangers, including three in local flowing robes. Refugees from Farrakhan? It wasn’t impossible to get from the city to the university without taking the train, just thoroughly unpleasant. Adam wondered if they were thinking about building their own windmill, then charging wands for the coming struggle for power. If the king was already trying to damage the university ...
He frowned as he spotted Master Dagon, talking to Master Landis. Neither of them looked pleased, even though Master Landis could take some credit for teaching Adam. The world had turned upside down ... Adam shook his head as he turned away, smiling as he saw Valerie Hunt making her way towards them. Her answering smile was almost as bright as the sun.
“You seem to like changing things,” she said, as she joined them. “Will this make it possible for anyone to perform magic?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Adam said. “But we still need a sorcerer to actually program the wands.”
He sighed, inwardly. He’d spent some time trying to devise a way to program the wands without a sorcerer’s assistance. So far, none of his theories had gotten off the drawing board. They either had too little power to manifest a piece of spellwork, the sort of thing Lilith could do without thinking about it, or too much. It should be possible, he was sure, yet ... he shook his head. Beneficence wasn’t built in a day. They might not make another breakthrough for months, perhaps years. He wondered, idly, if he’d have time. He had yet to complete his apprenticeship. Perhaps he could take his share of the reward, buy himself a place in town and just stay there. Who knew? Lilith might even join him.
Which is about as likely as you getting into bed with Queen Alassa herself, his thoughts mocked him. Don’t be an idiot.
Arnold emerged from the windmill, waved cheerfully at them and hurried over to the old farmhouse. Adam did his best to answer Valerie’s questions as Arnold reappeared, carrying another dish of blood. He looked uncomfortable with it, despite everything ... Adam understood all too well. They just didn’t have enough volunteers to supply blood ... he shook his head. Animal blood didn’t work. The magic faded almost as soon as the runes were removed.
Which is odd, Adam reflected. What makes human blood so different?
He kept that question to himself as Arnold rejoined them. His face was sweaty, his clothes splattered with oil ... Adam guessed it was still hot inside the windmill. He made a mental note to ensure the next design was built out of stone. It probably wasn’t possible to replace the wood in the sails, but everything else ... it would be ironic, he reflected, if the windmill worked so perfectly it set itself on fire. He’d heard enough horror stories about magic-fuelled fires to fear the worst.
“We’ve got a bigger audience,” Arnold commented. “And to think I didn’t dress up for it.”
“You look very authentic,” Valerie said. “All I need to do is sketch a picture of you.”
Arnold promptly struck a ridiculous pose, flexing his muscles and puffing out his chest. Taffy giggled. Adam turned away and frowned as he realised Arnold was right. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he’d missed the growing crowd of spectators. It looked as if half the town - and student body - had heard that something was happening and come to watch the show. Adam wondered why Yvonne hadn’t told them to go away, then kicked himself. Yvonne probably wanted to show off the windmill, making it impossible for the concept to be buried and quietly forgotten. Adam knew how quickly stories could grow in the telling, to the point the nugget of truth was buried under a mountain of utter nonsense. Was it possible the concept of rune-directed magic could be lost? There were people who’d do everything in their power to keep it from spreading ...
His eyes narrowed as he looked at Master Dagon. Master Landis had vanished. Caleb was standing beside him, looking thoughtful. Master Dagon himself looked as if he was thinking hard. Adam wondered what was going through his head as Yvonne barked orders, directing the crowd to move back to a safe distance before she restarted the windmill. Adam was tempted to ask if he could start it himself. It had been his idea.
Probably not, he thought, wryly. She’s having too much fun.
The windmill creaked loudly as the sails started to move again. This time, the noise seemed to be quieter. It was hard to be sure. Blue lightning flickered around the sails - Adam thought he saw streams of light flowing into the windmill - as the ground started to shake violently. The windmill seemed to wobble alarmingly, an instant before the door burst open and Yvonne burst out, running for her life. An instant later, the windmill twisted violently, crumbling in on itself as if it were caught in a tornado. Adam stared in horror as the sails shattered, pieces of smouldering wood flying in all directions. The magic sputtered one last time and died. The remnants of the windmill crashed to the ground and lay still.
Adam felt his mouth hanging open. It had worked. It had worked and ... he tried to understand what had happened. The sails had worked, the struts had worked, the orrery had worked ... had they channelled too much power into the blood? Or ... the collapse had looked thoroughly odd, as if the magic had flowed in ways the human eye couldn’t follow before the windmill had died. Or ...
“Sabotage!” A voice ran through the crowd. “Treachery!”
The shout was repeated by others, building and building as the crowd surged with anger. Adam spun around to stare at Master Dagon and Caleb. The latter was staring in horror at the ruins, horror and frustration; the former seemed cold and calculating, clearly meditating on what the collapse of the windmill meant for his cause. Adam sensed Arnold seething with anger beside him as the crowd rumbled in rage, then started to lash out. A pair of orbs flew through the air. Caleb started to say something, but his voice was lost in the roar of the crowd. Adam wanted to run, to find somewhere safe. He’d thought one riot was quite bad enough ...
Good thing I didn’t bring Lilith, he thought. The crowd was demanding bloody revenge on magicians - all magicians. She would never have forgiven me.
Caleb was still trying to speak. Master Dagon shoved him to one side, levitated himself into the air and boosted his voice. “ENOUGH,” he bellowed. The words were so loud they made Adam’s ears hurt. “STOP THIS RIGHT NOW OR I WILL STOP YOU!”
Adam shivered, feeling a very primal fear. The crowd recoiled, as if they’d been lashed with whips. The anger, already ugly, was growing worse. It wouldn’t be long before they drove forward anyway ... the scent of durian was already hanging in the air, threatening to render the magicians powerless. He wondered, suddenly, if the crowd would be able to tell the difference between a magician and a powerless apprentice who didn’t have any magic of his own ... he shivered, all too aware it probably didn’t matter. A rioting crowd wouldn’t give a damn who it caught, once its blood was up. He’d seen innocent men, women and children murdered on the streets of Beneficence, when the crowd had rioted against Vesperian’s Folly. He would die as easily as those poor bastards ...
“POWER TO THE PEOPLE,” someone shouted. The voice was surprisingly loud. “DEATH TO THE ARISTOS!”
Shit, Adam thought. It was a war cry - a Leveller war cry. He’d read the stories. They’d chanted that, right before they’d marched on manors or tax offices or anyone else who’d oppressed them past the point of no return. Stones were already flying through the air, aimed at the magicians and those unfortunate enough to be near them. Praxis and Yvonne were on the ground ... Praxis didn’t seem to be doing much of anything. Did he take a sniff of the gas?
Adam glanced towards the farmhouse, then grabbed Taffy and Valerie and pulled them after him as he hurried away from the crowd. The shouting was growing louder. The cold expression on Master Dagon’s face suggested he was just waiting for an excuse to give the crowd a lesson it wouldn’t live long enough to remember, let alone forget. Taffy squawked in outrage - Arnold has been left behind, adding his voice to the crowd’s - but Adam ignored her. She could be mad at him later, if they lived long enough. He glanced back, just in time to see Yvonne stumble to her feet and run. She was strong, easily one of the strongest people he’d met, but she wasn’t fool enough to tangle with a bunch of rioters. They could tear her apart as if she were made of parchment. Praxis ran beside her, his face grim.
“Let go of me,” Taffy snapped. She pulled her arm away, trying to break his grip. “Let go ...”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Yvonne snapped at her. “Move your ass!”
The riot exploded behind them. Adam lowered his head and kept running, the others following him back to the university. He thought he felt waves of magic pressing against him, but it was hard to be sure. A handful of gunshots rang out ... Adam felt cold, wondering if they’d just shot Lilith’s father. Or Caleb. He felt a sudden surge of anger that surprised him. Caleb was a son of Beneficence, too. He should know there was no point in reasoning with a mob. One either outran it or outfought it. There were no other options.
“People there, making it worse,” Yvonne gasped, between breaths. “They knew it was going to happen.”
Sabotage, Adam thought, numbly. He forced himself to look at her. “What happened?”
“The blood started to fizzle, then the magic went wild,” Yvonne said. She sounded tired and bitter, her breaths coming in fits and starts as she struggled to keep running. Adam shivered. Yvonne might have been hurt worse than he’d realised. Walking into a place dripping in wild magic was a painful way to commit suicide. Most people, even magicians, gave them a wide berth. “And then I ran.”
Adam nodded, his breath catching in his throat as they ran over the sand. It was like a beach, except the sand felt dirty and the air stank of burning. His throat felt dry as he looked up, silently thanking the household gods he could see the university. The farm was behind them - he knew it for a fact - and yet, when he looked, all he saw was endless sand dunes. If a plume of smoke hadn’t been drifting into the sky, he would have wondered if they’d lost their way as they fled. The sound was almost completely gone.
“Arnold’s back there,” Taffy said, numbly. “I hope he’s alright.”
“He’s a sly one,” Yvonne said, as she slowed to catch her breath. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Adam looked at her. “They’ll let us rebuild the windmill, won’t they?”
“I don’t know.” Yvonne looked as if she was on the verge of collapse. “After that ... I think some of them might have other ideas. At the very least, they’d want to rebuild the windmill a long way from here.”
“Lady Emily will want to rebuild,” Taffy said. “Won’t she?”
“Lady Emily isn’t here,” Yvonne said. “Right now, her opinions don’t matter.”
Adam forced himself to think as they reached the university. A stream of students were hurrying up from Heart’s Ease, clearly fearful the riot was going to spread into the town once again. The blood had fizzed and that meant ... what? Too much power? Or ... had someone taken blood from a magician? If a drop of Lilith’s blood had caused an explosion, what would an entire dish of blood do? Could Master Dagon - or someone - have added their own blood to the mix? It might be cleverer than it seemed. Few magicians would willingly give up their own blood. The council might refuse to consider it possible.
It isn’t as if we could have done anything with it, even if we’d known what we had, Adam told himself. We weren’t going to try casting curses with the blood and they knew it too.
Taffy coughed. “What do we do now?”
“Go back to your dorm and stay there,” Praxis said, in a tone that promised trouble to anyone who defied him. “I have to take Yvonne to the infirmary. After that ... I don’t know. The council will want to speak to you.”
Adam nodded. There was no point in arguing with a man who was clearly on the verge of exploding. Praxis had a big problem and a little problem and they were the little problem, certainly when compared to his injured lover. Better to do as Praxis said than risk an explosion.
“What about me?” Valerie Hunt caught his eye. “I live in the town ...”
“Go stay in the dorm,” Praxis snapped. He hefted Yvonne over his shoulder and turned away. “The council will want to speak to you too.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“The question before us is simple,” Mistress Irene said. “What - precisely - went wrong?”
Adam took a breath. They’d been ordered to stay in their dorms and remain there until they were summoned, with their meals brought to them by students who’d clearly taken a vow of silence. Arnold had been insistent that Master Dagon was the mastermind, that he’d sabotaged the windmill ... Adam no longer knew what to believe. Master Dagon wasn’t stupid enough to risk revealing his hand so openly, was he? He’d anger Lady Emily as well as everyone else in the university. She’d killed necromancers. She wouldn’t be threatened by a magician with no more power than common sense.
“There was a magic surge,” he said. “I don’t know why.”
He sensed Arnold shifting beside him and braced himself, half-expecting an explosion. They’d been summoned to the council chambers, after a long night of bad dreams, only to hear that Yvonne was still in the infirmary and that no one, absolutely no one, knew what had happened to the windmill. Master Dagon was in his chair, his face expressionless. Adam felt a sudden surge of hatred. Master Dagon had told Lilith to stay in the university. Why would he have done that, unless he’d known something was going to go wrong?
“We have picked through the rubble,” Praxis said. The enchanter looked as if he hadn’t managed to get a wink of sleep. “There is too much raw and tainted magic in the air for us to determine what actually happened. It is possible the struts were simply unable to take the magic, at least at a high level, and disintegrated. It is also possible ...”
“Sabotage,” Arnold growled. “If something was going to go wrong, why would it go wrong on the second try?”
Adam winced. Arnold had a point. If the structure was unsuited to the load they were placing on it, the structure should have collapsed the first time around. Yvonne had said the blood had fizzed ... his thoughts ran in circles as he rubbed his skull, trying to sort out his feelings. Had they taken blood from a magician by accident? Someone with undetected magical potential? Or ... or what? Was Arnold right? Had someone sabotaged the windmill? There was certainly no shortage of suspects.
