~Percy~

Fargen Huide was a very cross man indeed. The Margrave of Carhavel, lord of not only the city itself but the entirety of the south-eastern march of Tuiar, was unaccustomed to being robbed—especially in the privacy of his own lavish mansion—and he was truly livid that the city guards had been lax enough to allow the crime to happen. And as the Captain of the Carhavel Guard, it fell to Percy Oddell to deal with the problem. If only Huide was a less distasteful individual.

"I don't know why we're bothering," said a woman to Percy's left. Eada Taphan, one of a bare handful of outsiders serving with the Guard, spoke lazily, as though she was addressing a friend rather than a superior. Eada was pretty enough, if slightly hard-faced and a shade young for Percy's taste. She wore her dark hair long, shaved to the scalp on one side and draped over the opposite shoulder. Slight as she was, Percy had to look down to see her face. She came barely up to his shoulders. One of the other Guards had once compared Eada's face to that of a goat. Percy had disciplined the Guard for that remark, of course, but he could definitely see a hint of truth to it.

"We're bothering," he said, "because Huide is the Margrave, and he was robbed. Theft is still a crime in Carhavel, no matter how they do things in Arast."

"Huide's an idiot, though," said Eada.

"It's not a crime to be an idiot. It is a crime to steal from an idiot."

"He was inside his own well-fortified house, sealed away in the privy atop the highest tower in said house, and the thief somehow managed to steal the ring off his fingers." Eada snorted. "At that point, I'm questioning whether he even deserves to have it. Might as well just say 'well done' to the thief, and let her keep it. She's more than earned it, as far as I'm concerned."

Percy rolled his eyes. "You're not one for rules, are you, Eada?"

"I like rules," Eada insisted. "I just don't like Fargen Huide."

"Unfortunately for you, Huide is the man who makes the rules. And the man who pays you."

Eada sighed. "Can't we just tell him the thief got away?"

"No, we cannot," said Percy, firmly. "Next time, it mightn't be Huide who gets robbed. What if it's Aldora Lindomel's turn?"

Eada barely stifled a gasp at that, and Percy knew he'd picked the right name to use in his example. He'd suspected—for quite some time, in fact—that Eada wasn't, as she claimed, a preternaturally-talented urchin from the eastern mountains of Arast who had crossed the sea and sailed quite improbably upstream along the Rhaddan from its mouth at Arethloden to the sandbanks at Carhavel, to pledge herself to a foreign realm's Guard. No, Percy was fairly sure she was really a Magus. Officially, there were six in Carhavel, led by Aldora Lindomel—the terms of the Faradwel Accords made it plain that no more than half a dozen Magi were permitted to gather in a single city for more than a day, unless invited by the city's lord—and Percy had been watching all six of them for some time. Not out of distrust for the Magi, per se. Just a desire to confirm his own suspicions. What he'd found had been quite enlightening.

There were few reasons for an Arast urchin to visit the powerful Magus Aldora Lindomel in her private residence five nights out of every six, especially when ostensibly she didn't even know Fera Lindomel. But there were plenty of reasons for a Magus disguised as an urchin to do so. Eada's reaction had betrayed some knowledge of who Aldora Lindomel was. She'd given herself away.

Eada's eyes narrowed. "How long have you known?"

"That you weren't really who you said you were?" Percy shrugged. "Since about ten minutes after you arrived in Carhavel. That you're a Magus? Only a day or so. Don't worry, I'm not going to turn you in. Whatever you're doing in the city, I'm assuming there's a good reason for it, and it's not for me to pry. Just so long as your plans don't involve a knife in my neck."

Eada shook her head. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't use a knife."

"Well, that's good, because I've always thought it would be a particularly distasteful way to die."

Carhavel was an old city, and whatever thought had gone into its layout when first it was build, it had long since deteriorated into unplanned sprawl. It was like navigating a maze. Percy had lived in the city for more than thirty years, been Captain of the Guard for six, and there were still areas he wasn't fully familiar with. There was a trick to finding your way—no good if you were searching for a specific street, but ideal for getting to generally where you wanted to be. The oldest buildings in the city were made of whitestone, the gleaming stone that was all but impossible to sully with dirt or to scratch or cleave with regular tools. Huide's keep in the heart of the city was one such building, as was much of the inner sector, and whitestone buildings were usually carved with intricate facias and other frivolous adornments; further out, whitestone was far less common, and often more prosaic. Mostly, they had once been outlying guard posts or places of worship for the farmers in distant villages whose fields fed the city, but which had since been absorbed by its swell. No man living knew the secret of whitestone carving. When Fargen Huide's father Ferran had been the Margrave, in the days of Queen Thalia, he'd sent for five of the best builders the Magi could offer, to make improvements to the keep. They'd departed the city three months later, having made not even a dent in the stone. So long as you kept finding whitestone, you could be certain you were going either further into the city or closer to its edge. If you could see the peak of the Starforger's Lance, tallest by far of the Endael mountains, you knew you were going south. If you could see the High Gatehouse, you were going north. And if you had a cardinal direction and the whitestone trail, you weren't ever truly lost.

Today was market day. Earlier on, the streets would have been all but impassable, so crowded with sellers trying to flog their wares, but it was getting on in the afternoon, and a lot of them had packed up their carts of merchandise. They passed a woman at a fruit stand being berated by a fruitseller, and giving back as good as she got. Both fell silent when they noticed the City Guard. A white-haired ghoul in a patched-up dress offered to tell Eada's future for the low price of a copper penny. Eada declined—wisely, in Percy's view. Someone who could genuinely see the future would never sell that talent for less than a gold piece. Eada being a Magus, she probably knew someone who could do it for free.

Eventually, they came upon the heart of the city. Here, nearly every building was made of whitestone, and on sunny days it glistened so bright it was dazzling. They were all elaborate, intricately-carved structures, every one a thousand years old or more and yet looking as new as if they'd been built not a week ago; you were rich if you lived here, and anyone poor who inherited an inner sector whitestone would become rich in short order just from the doors opened to them by living there.

Huide's keep made even these extravagant mansions look like pauper's hovels. It stood far higher, far wider, and every extremity was made of duller stones. Apparently even what had passed for a grand castle to the people who'd carved with whitestone was not enough for the House of Huide. The Margrave himself was nowhere to be seen. Likely, he'd returned to the sanctum of his keep, rather than associating with the hoi polloi outside. A number of guards were in the area, though, all recognisable by the pale blue fabric of their gambesons and the boar's head with a broken tusk painted on their helmets. That was the mark and colouring of the kingdom of Tuiar, not the House of Huide. Only Fargen's personal retainers—and Percy happened to know that he had less than a dozen—were allowed to wear the Huide colours, yellow with a blaze of maroon; to armour them otherwise would be to declare war on King Descard. Fargen Huide likely found that whole situation intolerable.

There came a sudden flicker of movement, a shadow dashing down a nearby alley. Percy jerked his head... but whatever had cast the shadow, it had gone before he got a good look.

Eada frowned. "What is it?"

"I thought I saw something."

She nodded. "The thief. The guards couldn't catch her."

"They should have been able to," Percy snapped. "There's enough of them."

"Too slow." Eada shook her head. "They're expecting another ten-a-penny street tough, but toughs don't break into the Margrave's house. Certainly not for a single item, which the Margrave was currently wearing. It's a good thief indeed who can pull that job off." She turned suddenly, pivoting to face behind her. Percy followed her gaze. There was a woman behind them, slinking down the road, hair tied into a ponytail at her back and a grey cloak billowing behind her. The thief, perhaps. The woman turned, just for a second, then—seeing that she'd been spotted—broke into a run.

Percy started to give chase, but Eada stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. "You won't catch her," she told him. "Best to let her think she's got away free. That way she'll try again."

"And what if she gets past us again next time? I can't just let her get away without so much as a chase. I'll look like a fool."

Eada smiled. "Relax, Captain. You're talking to a Magus, remember? I've seen the thief's face, now. The next job she tries, we'll be waiting for her."

Percy looked at her. "You can do that?"

"I can do lots of things," said Eada. "It just so happens that clairvoyance is my greatest strength."

Percy laughed. "Then I daresay you've just become the most valuable person in the guard."

"Please," said Eada. "You flatter me."

*

The sun had receded behind the clouds when they returned to the guardhouse, near to the southern wall of Carhavel. The position had been chosen because of its proximity to the River-Gate, where merchants from Dael and Méor who had come via the Rhaddan would bring their wares for selling, as well as to the Bastions. There were six of them, spread along the length of the south wall. They weren't whitestone, more's the pity, but they were a firm brick that wasn't all that worse. Grand, bulbous statues, with luminary fires atop them, they were the forefront of the city's defence. Not that defence had ever been needed, but if it did it would be from the south; a foreign host would need to pass through so much of Tuiar to reach Carhavel from the north that there was not much point fighting at all, and if they'd got through Pardasath they'd probably have deposed King Descard and conquered Tuiar anyway. According to old tomes in the city archives, the bastions had been built with the intention of intimidating any attackers into surrender or flight. Percy had once stood on the shore of the Rhaddan and looked up at them. They were impressive, for sure, but not intimidating.

One of the Guards approached as soon as Percy and Eada came in sight of the guardhouse. Gurdagam Taldarmin, a grizzled fellow with a thick greying moustache who could swing a sword with the best of them but preferred to play dice in a drinking house, was not a fan of sentry duty. When he had to do it, he tended to lean against the wall of the guardhouse, warmed by the fire in the brazier there. He certainly wasn't the sort to go out of his way to approach Percy.

Which struck Percy as odd. "What is it, Gurdagam?"

"Magi," Gurdagam growled. "All bloody six of them."

"Magi?" Percy glanced at Eada, who seemed as bemused as he did. "Did they say what they wanted?"

Gurdagam shrugged. "You, Captain. And pretty Eada the goatwife here, for some reason. I think they must have gone mad. I tried to tell them: anything Eada can do, there's a dozen others in the Guard who can do it better."

Eada scowled at that. She seemed hurt by it, too. Her shoulders slumped, and she turned her body away from Gurdagam.

Percy shook his head. "Enough of that, Gurdagam. I'll handle the Magi. You just keep watch like you're meant to."

"Aye, sir," he said. "That I can do."

Leaving Gurdagam at his post, Percy entered the guardhouse. It was a compact room, wattle and daub rather than the stone of its surroundings, and with the beamed ceiling not much higher than the clearance of the door. Inside, swords and helmets were hung on a rack along one wall, and against another a sideboard bore bread, cheese and an empty bronze pitcher. The faint sound of voices told him where to go from there: downstairs, to the undercroft room. It had been dug into the ground some hundred years ago, when the City Guard were first levied as a full-time force, as a place for the guards to sleep. Over the years it had also become the meeting-place of choice; it was by far the largest room in the guardhouse, and the rock walls kept it cool even in summer.

The stairs creaked as he descended, Eada following close behind. His shadow, cast long in front of him as he passed in front of a sconced torch, announced his arrival in the room, and the six Magi all stood to greet him. There was Aldora Lindomel, her black hair coiled atop her head, peering at him with odd eyes. Eada blushed when she saw Aldora. All six Magi looked regal—as Magi always did, when they wanted to—but pale Kana Fourn had red rings around her eyes, as though she'd just been crying. Every one of them had a serious look on their face.

"Captain Oddell," said Aldora, tilting her head slightly.

He followed suit with the barely-perceptible bow. "Magus Aldora," he said, meeting title with title. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"No pleasure," Aldora said. "It's time to confess a truth to you. Eada, child, come forth."

Eada was hiding behind Percy. It was unlike her to be cowed by anyone—but then, if six Magi didn't cow a person nothing was likely to. "I know Eada is a Magus like yourself," said Percy. "And before you get cross with her, she didn't tell me. I figured it out for myself."

Aldora's eyes briefly widened, but she held her composure. "Well, then."

"I'm guessing you didn't all gather down here just to tell me that," said Percy.

"No," Aldora confirmed, shaking her head. "We didn't."

"The Octal Tower has been attacked," said one of the others, dark-eyed Toral Aspen.

Eada gasped audibly. "Attacked?"

Percy frowned. The Octal Tower was supposed to be impossible to attack. Officially its location was a secret, though it wasn't a hard guess to place it somewhere in the big empty patch on the map in between all the kingdoms that seemed to deal most with Magi. But it was hard to see how an attack on the Tower had anything to do with Carhavel.

"Kana had her awakening today," said Aldora. Eada looked surprised. Percy had no idea what an 'awakening' meant, though it was clear it had shaken Kana. "Gettie was in the Tower. Through her, we know that whatever happened was violent and without warning."

"She keeps saying 'sorry'," Kana added, through sniffles. "Sorry for not stopping it. Sorry for not figuring it out."

"Pardon me," said Percy, "but why did you need to speak to me?"

"Because you are the only man who knows Eada's identity," Aldora explained. "The girl has a part to play. Reports say men are massing in the Outlands, and they'll turn north soon if they haven't already. Our emissaries to Aéde and Tarhanen have not returned. Carhavel might soon be in danger, Captain Oddell, and that would put the lives of everybody in the city in danger. That's why I needed to speak to you. I need..." She paused. "I want you to keep Eada safe. As soon as Carhavel is threatened, get her out of the city, and far away. I care greatly about the girl. I'd take her away myself, but... I am the martial leader of the Magi, and my place must be here."

"I'm staying in Carhavel," said Eada, her bottom lip twitching. "You said you could teach me everything. That's why we linked. How, now, can you send me away?"

"I'm not sending you away." Aldora's tone had suddenly turned cold. Percy found it unnerving, and he wasn't the target of her ire. Eada shrank back. "Eada, do you understand what is happening? The Tower under attack, armies massing in the Outlands... I daresay the rest of the Prophecies will be fulfilled before the end of the year. There's a child somewhere who is going to save the world, and they have no idea."

"And you want me to find this child?"

Aldora shook her head. "I want you to survive. The Chains need to hold if there's going to be a world left to save. It wasn't an accident I picked you: Eada, you—"

She was interrupted by the sudden trumpeting of war-horns from on high. All eyes looked upwards, then—realising they were in an underground room—turned to the staircase instead. The feet that belonged with those eyes made for the staircase too. Percy reached it first. The Magi could talk about what they wanted, but he was the Captain of the Guard. The horns meant something was happening that he needed to know about.

He found several guards milling about nervously. Gurdagam was stood in his usual spot by the brazier, and Bornir—with his own dark moustache slicked with grease so it tightly framed his mouth—at his side. The pair nodded at Percy as he emerged into the Carhavel streets. The horns were still going. They were bloody loud; if ever the city was attacked at night, there'd be no issue in waking the people. "What word from the wall?"

"Banners, Captain," said Bornir. "Well beyond the Rhaddan, but marching fast."

"What banners?"

"Endael banners, some of them," said Bornir. "Both the royal Beryl and their vassals. Others still that none of us recognise. There's ten thousand men coming for Carhavel if there's one."

Ten thousand men. Aldora had talked of men gathering in the Outlands. Could they have made it this far north unseen? If a host had burned through Dael without any words of warning getting out, it was a formidable host indeed. And there was likely only one thing such a host would want with Carhavel. War.

"Send a man out under a banner of parley," Percy ordered. "With a staid horse, one that won't bolt. Have him find out what they want—it'll be to attack, no doubt, but a parley might buy us time to prepare our defence." Bornir nodded and set off for the south wall. Percy turned to Gurdagam. "Carhavel has never fallen, and I hope not to see that change today."

Of course, Carhavel had never been attacked before, either. Its defences were untested. There was no guarantee they were any use at all.