Roar, page 26
“Most shamans don't shift forms. But it can happen. And there's no reason why we can't cast spells. It depends on our animus – spirit form. Most of us have a simple animal animus. But some of us have a mystical animus. Griffins, unicorns, dragons and drakes. Master Fordis for example has the animus of a basilisk. And that grants him the power to freeze people. If the animus is one that casts spells, the shaman can cast spells. I've never heard of a sphinx animus, but it makes sense. A sphinx can cast spells.”
Did that make sense? Camille didn't know. But it made more sense than her mother having transformed the wizard into what he had become when she didn't have that sort of magic.
“I don't know. I can't tell you much about him. Only that he thinks he's a wizard who was transformed into a lion by a spell.”
“So he hasn't been trained and yet he still defeated a powerful fell witch in battle. Can you imagine how capable he'll be when he's trained?” The young man stared at her wistfully.
“What does it matter? He's not here and not likely to come here! You should return to your studies and stop speculating about things which cannot be known!” Camille told him off, and then abruptly felt annoyed with herself for doing so. When had she become so old? So much like a school mistress? But she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stand listening to the boy talking about Thorm in almost worshipful tones. It was sickening. The man was a villain. Whatever actions he had taken since his transformation didn’t change his base nature.
“But you can speak with him.”
“No, I can't.” Camille was surprised by the idea. And by the suggestion that she might want to.
“But aren't you a dreamer?” The young man stared at her, his eyes wide.
“No.”
“Oh. I thought you were. You have the look.”
“Well I'm not!” she snapped. And what sort of look did a dreamer have anyway, Camille wondered? Sleepy eyed maybe? Tired all the time? Lacking in an appreciation of what was of the waking world and what wasn't? She didn't know.
But she did know she wasn't a dreamer. She'd been tested for that too. She might have some of the training for it. The self-control and the knowledge. She just didn’t have the actual gift. It was upsetting, especially in this world of magic. It would have been nice to have had some magic. Anything at all. But it seemed that magic had completely passed her by. It was possible though that if she ever had children that the magic of her mother would be passed on to them. It was said that magic sometimes skipped a generation.
“Apologies. If you were you could have told him to read the Book of Edris. It might have helped.”
“Well I can't do that. And I would like to continue with my reading if you don't mind,” Camille responded rudely. It was time to end this this conversation before it became any more awkward.
It seemed to work where nothing else had. The young man stood up hurriedly, apologised for bothering her and left with a shocked look on his face.
Camille immediately felt guilty for the way she'd treated him. He was young and hadn't meant any harm. And she hated being rude. But it was too late to apologise she supposed as she watched him walk away. Besides, she really didn't want to talk any more about the damned lion wizard. Not when people looked on him with such wonder and even adoration. But as the boy disappeared her thoughts turned to the book he'd mentioned. The Book of Edris. She'd never heard the name. Of the man or of the book. But perhaps within its pages she would find something to explain how he'd defeated both her mother and her aunt in battle. And how he’d fooled the Oracle. If she knew that then perhaps she could find out what his weaknesses were and how she could make him suffer for his crimes. Because he had to pay.
But that would come later. First she had to free her mother. Somehow.
Chapter Twenty Five
The next part of Thorm's plan came to him completely by chance. Ten days had passed since he had last spoken to the Oracle. Ten days in which he'd done almost nothing. The troll pit had been destroyed and the armoury emptied out. The bridges had been destroyed, cutting off communications between the Eternal City and the rest of the realm. And in all that time he had not heard from the Oracle. No doubt she was angry with him.
So he had no idea of what was happening in the wider world. No one in the city did. But one thing he did know was that the King was still worried that an attack was coming. He was still stocking the silos up as if preparing for a siege. He was still repairing the crumbling city walls. And there were still soldiers everywhere making it difficult for him to get about. Fortunately Thorm had just learned a nice rain spell now to help conceal him. With that and his spell of chameleon and the sleeping wind if he needed it, no one had seen him. Of course, the fact that he mostly only went out at night did help.
The only problem with the rain spell was that while it kept the soldiers off the streets and under shelter, he still got wet when he wandered outside. And it wasn't warm rain. In fact it was freezing cold. He was lucky he had a fur coat. Still, he had to go out. And so once he'd checked the street carefully, he sprinted from the sewer exit to his destination and then shook himself dry. He hadn't known lions could do that until he'd started casting the spell regularly.
But he needed food, and a good sized leg of lamb would do very nicely. A butcher should have one that was just perfect for him he thought, and it was only a couple of city blocks to the nearest one. He liked to spread his pilfering about so that no one had to bear all the costs of his lifestyle. And also so that no one would think to set a trap for him if he kept coming back to the same stores night after night.
Unfortunately the sudden rain had one other undesirable effect. It caused the soldiers manning the various guard posts and patrolling the streets to run for shelter. One group he discovered just as he was about to turn a corner, had taken up a position just ahead of him. They were hiding from it under the awning of a building directly in his path. He could hear them, cursing loudly about the inclement weather and blaming their captain for it – as if he was somehow responsible. He could hear them stamping their boots on the ground and shaking the rain out of their coats. One thing was certain though; they weren't looking for him. They weren't actually looking for anyone. It was night and as far as the soldiers were concerned they were the only ones foolish enough to be out. They just wanted to be dry.
In time, when it became clear they weren’t about to move on, Thorm took another peek around the corner, and contemplated his next steps. He could cast the spell of sleeping wind he supposed and deal with the problem that way. But sooner or later someone was going to realise that it wasn't an accident that soldiers kept falling asleep. Or he could just wait them out, as sooner or later they would have to continue on with their patrol – even if for them it only meant their running to the next place where they could take shelter. He could of course just attack them but in truth he'd rather not. They were people even if they'd accepted the King's coin. He'd also rather no one guessed there was a lion roaming the streets. The less people knew about him the better.
At least, while they were blocking his path, they weren't moving. That gave him time to think about taking another route instead. Going around them. But if he did that he thought, he'd probably run into another patrol. It also gave him time to listen to them as they moaned. Strangely enough he enjoyed that. Not that he knew these men or liked them. But just listening to people talking normally made him feel almost as though he was a man once more. As if he was one of them. If he could have, he would have smiled as they described their Captain in distinctly unflattering terms. Maybe even laughed. He was certain the man couldn't be that much of a piss pot, but their descriptions of him still amused him.
So while he was taking shelter on a porch behind a small hedged garden, he settled in to a more comfortable position and listened to the conversation, his hunger for the moment forgotten. For the most part their chatter was banal, as they speculated on what kind of jobs the piss pot would make them do when they got back. The general consensus seemed to be that he would set them to polishing their boots and buttons, and wiping down their coats. The Captain liked his men to keep up a proper appearance. He also insisted on them taking good care of their weapons, something which as a gunsmith Thorm would have wholeheartedly supported. Good on the Captain for insisting that the soldiers rifles needed to be wiped down and dried when they got back. You couldn’t afford to let rust take a hold.
Rust! Thorm almost fell over when he heard them say that. It was a word he hadn't heard in ages. Something he hadn't even thought about. But once upon a time he had worried about it constantly. He was a gunsmith! And the one thing he knew for certain was that rust was the enemy of his trade. Rust on the outside of a weapon could foul a chamber, wreck a trigger mechanism and weaken a barrel. On the inside of a barrel it could cause a musket ball to jam in the weapon when it fired and swell a barrel if it didn't completely explode.
And rain caused rust.
In that moment he realised, he had another weapon he could use against the King. A way of crippling his armies. And one that he would never suspect. Damn it, he might even have a way of getting the Eternal King out of his eternal armour. Steel armour rusted too!
Thorm lay on the porch, considering his idea as he waited for the group to finish their complaining and make their next dash for shelter as they continued their patrol. While normal rain was bad on metal, what if he threw some wind into the mix? Everyone knew that rain was more aggressive than river water. The stones that rivers passed through softened the water. Which was why metal bolts in rivers lasted longer than those exposed to rain. But if he added more wind to the rain as it fell it would make the rain more aggressive again. And the wind would force the water into places the rain normally wouldn't. Like the inside of a gun barrel. Or a cannon. And there were hundreds of cannons lining the walls, waiting to face the enemy; none of them though were presently under any sort of shelter. Bronze didn't rust like iron – but it still deteriorated.
But the rain could do more than just destroy the munitions. It would rust any metal. Like the iron of roofing nails, which meant a lot of buildings would soon have rain getting inside them. The iron of locks and bars, manacles and chains. The prisons would become insecure in time. The magical prisoners could escape. Gates would rust shut as the hinges failed. Wagon wheels would seize up along with all the other iron bits and pieces that held wagons and saddles together.
He could actually completely cripple the local army he realised. Disarm them in a matter of days. And with a single spell!
But most dangerous of all for the King he realised, cold steel would rust. Cold steel was crude steel. The manacles he used to control his magical prisoners would fail. The chains and bars too.
As the soldiers finally decided that the rain wasn't going to stop and that they needed to continue their patrol, he watched them go with only half a mind on them. The rest of his thoughts were on the plan unfolding in his head. On the spells he was going to need to cast and keep casting for the next few days. And they were long gone from sight by the time he had returned to the world with his plan sorted.
There was a problem though. As he stood up and made to leave – first to the butchers for some much needed meat and the on to the nearest bell tower where he had decided to camp out and watch the skies as he kept casting his spells – he noticed that the front door to the house was open. Worse than that a young boy was standing in the doorway, staring wide eyed at him. Thorm had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard him. The boy couldn't have been more than ten or eleven years old. He had also clearly frozen up at the sight of a lion resting on his front porch.
Thorm growled softly at him, hoping to make him go back inside. The boy however was too frozen with fear to move. So he did the next best thing he could. He walked up to the boy, nudged him in the chest and pushed him back inside. Then he grabbed the door handle with his teeth and pulled the front door shut, before leaving.
It was late. The boy shouldn't have been out. Maybe this would teach him a lesson? Keep him from sneaking out at night. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little guilty when in the distance he heard the boy finally give into his fear and scream.
Undoubtedly the boy's parents would be upset with their son for trying to sneak out. He doubted though that they would believe him when he said he'd seen a lion on the porch. So he wasn't worried that word of him would get out. But it still left a sour taste in his mouth as it reminded him once again that he wasn't human any longer. He was a beast. And no matter what he did or how many he saved, no one was going to help him return to his own form. There really was no justice in the world.
Chapter Twenty Six
Camille was enjoying her lunch in one of the many outdoor dining halls when she heard her name called. It annoyed her a little, as she'd only just found herself a table and barely begun eating. But when she looked up to see who it was, her irritation went away. It was Elspeth and Mara!
She waved to them, surprised to see them in Strongheart. She'd thought only the magical – and her – were allowed in the city. And besides, no one was supposed to know she was here. So how did they? Still she waved them over, eager to see a friendly face. To have someone with her that she actually wanted to talk to.
“Elspeth! Mara!” She greeted them with hugs, her eyes starting to mist. It had been so long since she'd seen a friendly face. And she needed some cheer. After all her failed attempts to contact her mother, she needed all she could get. “What are you doing here?”
“My foot!” Elspeth answered for them. “The healer in Yissell Arn said it was ready for the next step and sent me here as he thinks they might be able to fuse it back together so it's a real foot again.” And just for emphasis she lifted her leg up and waved her foot around a little in its new bandages.
“It'd be so nice to walk again, properly. But why are you here?”
“My aunt insisted. She's having me tested for magic in her old college.” Of course that had already been done and none had been found. But she wasn't supposed to tell anyone the real reason she was here. Or in fact that she was here at all. Somehow she suspected that the Oracle was going to be upset with her for this. But just then she didn't care. She was just glad to see some friendly faces.
“Have they found any?”
“No. But Aunt Matilde doesn't believe them! She said that there was no way that the daughter of the most powerful fell witch in the world could have no magic. She insisted they try again!”
That might not actually be true, but it sounded true. Looking at her friends nodding and smiling, she guessed that they believed her.
“Elspeth, sit down.” Mara told her friend. “I'll get us something to eat.” And with that she was gone. Off to the servery in the middle of the hall, slipping her way around the tables and the other diners as if she'd done it all her life. She was very nimble Camille thought. Quick on her feet. It was testament to how well she’d recovered since escaping from the dungeon. As did the fact that her hair was shining like the sun, her eyes were bright and her teeth were white. Freedom obviously agreed with her.
“She really is doing well out here.” Elspeth caught the direction of Camille's gaze. “She's on her feet all day, practically running around like a little girl. I'm glad she's free.” There was a hint of sadness in the last.
“You'll be running around too soon enough,” Camille told her. “The wizards here are really good.”
“I know. Healer Harden said so. That's why he sent me here. But those bastards cleaved my foot in two with an axe. That's not the sort of thing that you can just heal. I'll be glad if I can just walk without limping. And what will Gabe think? Who would accept a cripple for a wife! I mean Mara says Gabe will if he really loves me. He still doesn’t actually know that his father did this to me. I'm sure of it. He has to be told. So he can make a choice. I pray it will be the right one.”
They'd cleft her foot! Camille winced when she heard that, but secretly she'd always feared it was something like that. Cleaving feet and hands was a common torture. The hands for thieves so they couldn't steal. The feet for slaves so they couldn't run away. It was a life sentence. And her fiancé’s father had had it done all because he hadn’t wanted his son to marry beneath him. Huh! Nobility. It was just so wrong. The nobles were all bastards. But she tried not to think about it.
“Mara's right. If he loves you he'll accept you no matter what your foot is like. That's what Galena's priests always say.” And while Camille might not have any time for the Sister of Love herself she was sure Elspeth did. In fact she would probably have sought out a shrine somewhere and made offerings. Even in this realm where the people followed Artemis and the Sisters were regarded as false gods, she would still have clung to her beliefs.
“I guess I'll know soon enough.” Elspeth stared nervously at her.
“Oh?”
“Mara helped me send a message to him. To Gabe. And she says he'll be racing out of the door of his family estate as fast as he can to reach me. If he loves me, he'll have no choice. And he won't waste a second listening to his vile father.”
But even as she spoke Camille could see the worry in her eyes. Hear the uncertainty in her voice. Of course she was worried. She hadn't seen her Gabe in six months or more. And now if she did see him she had to let him see her crippled foot. Her “deformity” as she no doubt thought of it. And six months was a long time if her lover proved fickle. Elspeth had to be worried that her Gabe had found someone else by now. After all, Gabe probably had no idea why she had suddenly disappeared.
