~Meriel~

"Heir to the Beryl Throne? Meriel?" Cad, lounging back on Telis' unslept-in bed, shook his head. "Surely that's a joke of some sort."

"You have to admit, it makes sense," said Helicent, who was leaning against the near wall, idly tapping her fingers on the rim of a ceramic washbowl on the sideboard. "That level of prissiness? Has to be in-born."

"Prissiness?" Meriel had been keeping out of her friends' conversation. She didn't want to think about it, really. Everything Telis had said seemed too outlandish to be true, but it was sitting uncomfortably like a truth on her shoulders. Things made sense, if she was Meriel the Queen's daughter, that didn't if she was Meriel the farmer's whelp. Nobody in the village seemed to remember her mother. Outlanders didn't come to the Village; even if she'd died giving Meriel birth, her mother would have had to be known to most people older than Meriel was. She must have been someone's daughter, someone's sister. When someone died in the Village they left gaps in the fabric of the community. Over time people weaved around the gaps, learnt to live with the absence, but the gaps nonetheless remained. Meriel's mother appeared not to have left a gap. It was as if she'd been conjured up whole cloth just to birth Meriel and die. And that was profoundly strange. Why was her father the only one who seemed to acknowledge that she'd ever had a mother? And why had he tried to kill her? There was no ambiguity on that one. He hadn't drawn his sword so he could pluck her eyebrows. The last thing he'd said to her before he struck still played in her mind: 'you weren't meant to figure it out'.

She didn't want to be a Queen's daughter, though. She just wanted to be an ordinary girl, safely back home. It had only been two days but she'd already had quite enough of adventure. The blindfold on the table by her bed was an uncomfortable reminder of what she'd have to go through, just to leave this room. What she'd be facing forever, if Telis' warnings were true. Telis herself had slipped out of the room alone to buy provisions, ready for them to be out of Camistane in a day or two. New clothes, more suitable clothes, were a must. If they were too large then so be it. It wasn't safe for Meriel to leave their room to visit a tailor for measurements, and in any case there wasn't time to have new garments made to measure. Telis had looked Meriel up and down before she left.

There'd been no uncertainty about what she wanted the rest of them to do: stay here, stay quiet, and under no circumstances leave the tavern. So that was what they were doing. Meriel had tried to sleep, but managed only to toss fitfully while her friends chattered endlessly about her. For them, this was all just a grand adventure.

It was still night, though, and still dark. Telis had extinguished the candle before she left; it would arouse suspicion, she said, if someone passing by the room happened to notice the glow through the crack beneath the door. Any honest person would not be up and with a lit candle in the small hours, least of all a blind girl who'd have no need of the candlelight even were she awake. It meant that they could see one another through only squinting and the vague whisper of light coming from the corridor outside. Meriel was glad of the darkness. She'd felt exposed in only her shift; the dark had been welcome while she was labouring to put her dress back on.

"Maybe prissiness was the wrong word," Helicent conceded, "but you seem to despise being on horseback. I've never seen you at the dice-table, and hardly ever at the inn."

"And that's bad?"

"Meriel, we're friends," said Helicent. "But we've grown past the stage of running wild in the fields. You shut yourself away, doing whatever your father tells you to do, and you turn your nose up at half the things the rest of us do—as though it's beneath you."

She shook her head. "That's not it at all. I just—" She shivered. "He'd get cross if things weren't done properly." Once, when Meriel had failed to have dinner ready two nights running, he'd threatened to find her a husband from the men in the Village—somebody who would make sure she learnt what became of girls who couldn't cook to their husbands' satisfaction. The idea of it made her sick. She didn't want to marry a man who was kind, let alone a man who was cruel. She'd begged her father not to follow through with his threat. Thereafter, she'd been loathe to do anything that might draw his ire. Not that the tavern, filled with the gazes of those who judged her, was much of a loss. She'd not realised that Helicent missed her presence.

Helicent. Now there was someone she'd be happy to marry. When Helicent was around, Meriel felt happier. Even now, the tension she'd been feeling with Telis had eased a little the moment Helicent had arrived—and now it was just a small pit in her stomach, sleeping for now, tamed.

"I'm glad you're here, Helicent," she said. "You too, Cad."

Outside, a floorboard creaked. Helicent jerked her head to the door; Meriel could just make out her silhouette, stiff and alert. A shadow blocked off the light beneath the door, and stayed still. Someone was stood outside.

The door opened just a crack, a narrow shaft of light entering from the hallway beyond. Telis slipped in, shutting the door behind her.

"We need to go," she said. "Now."

Meriel sat upright. "I thought we were staying here to rest."

"The way that innkeeper talked about his wife's cooking, I can't wait for breakfast." Cad smacked his lips.

"No breakfast," Telis hissed, moving to the bedpost where her saddlebag was slung. She started rifling around in it. "You were followed. There are people here who know who I am, who know who Meriel is. We have to go before they figure out where we're staying."

Helicent clutched to her bow, and Cad to his hammer. Meriel picked up the blindfold and made to wrap it around her head, but Telis stopped her. "Forget that. We'll be moving quickly, and I need you to be able to see the ground ahead of you." Grateful for the respite, Meriel stuffed the blindfold into the top of her own saddlebag, and slung it over her shoulder. Her boots were still on. She hadn't wanted to take them off, and for that she was glad; Cad was struggling to tie the laces of his own, with quaking hands.

"Keep close," Telis whispered, when they were all ready to go, "and keep quiet." Meriel, throwing her cloak on hurriedly, pulled up the hood; the shadow of it might prevent people from noticing her eyes. Damn Telis for telling her that her eyes were mismatched. Now she could think of nothing else.

Telis pulled open the room's door slowly, just wide enough for them to slip through one at a time, and they did. Meriel blinked in the sudden light. The floor of the corridor was wooden boards, but the walls were grey stone, and well-lit by several torches that cast dancing shadows with their flickering glows. Telis glanced behind her for a second to make sure the others were following her, then started down the corridor; a short distance along, it bent at a right angle. Telis halted at the corner and waved the others past her, keeping watch behind them and bringing up the rear. Around the corner they went, to another—slightly wider—hallway.

There was a man in the hallway, with a hooked nose and a scar along one cheek. He wore a vest of studded armour, and lifted an axe when he saw the four of them stepping out in front of him. Meriel turned away. Telis charged to the fore and, in a flashing of light, sent the man flying. He hit hard against the wooden wall and fell, limp, to the ground. Blood trickled in his nose.

Telis shuddered bodily. A strange shadow seemed to ripple across her skin, every inch of exposed flesh, before fading away. "He won't be the only one," she said. "Keep your eyes open." Onward they moved; Meriel did her best not to look too long at the dead man. He'd have killed us, were it not for Telis. Oh, but what if he had?

As they moved into the common room, Telis halted suddenly, and the rest of them fell in behind her. A ghastly scene greeted them. Cad swore, and Meriel gasped—instinctively she reached for Helicent, sought the comfort that could only come from her friend's hand in hers. A squat man in a stained apron crouched in the middle of the room, cradling a round-faced woman. The woman's eyes were sightless and glassy. A bloody slit in her throat revealed the reason for that.

"Magus Telis," said the man, and Meriel recognised his voice as that of the innkeep. "I'm sorry. They came this evening, not long before you did. Told me to keep an eye out for Magi in the city. They had my wife, Magus Telis. They had my Retta. Said if I only told them what I knew, they'd give her back to me." He began to sob. "Look at her! She's cold! This is what my betrayal earned me. Forgive me, Magus Telis."

"There's no need to—" Telis' words cut off as the innkeep held up a butcher's knife. In one fluid motion he ran it across his own throat, convulsing suddenly two thirds of the way across. Blood poured from his neck; his arm went limp, the knife dropping to the ground, and with eyes full of sorrow he died. The pool of blood on the floor grew wider, inching its way towards them. Meriel grimaced.

"You see now why we must go," said Telis. "Hurry. I won't say it again."

"And leave him?" Meriel shrieked.

"Yes, and leave him. He's dead. We can do nothing for him now. Not even a Magus has the power to restore life to a person."

Meriel hung her head, unable to form more words, her heart suddenly pumping at twice its normal rate. Silently she followed the others out onto the streets.

Day had not yet broken when they stepped out onto the streets of Camistane, though the sky was a paler shade than its usual nightly black. Dawn couldn't be far away. The early twilight bathed all around them in a muted, almost mournful glow. Meriel basked in the sight of a proper city. The street was paved with cracked stones, far grander even broken than anything she had seen before in her life. Rows of houses packed tightly together lined either side of the street, and through intersecting roads she could see more streets of the same. A number of market stalls stood empty in the darkness. It was all incredible. You could fit a dozen Villages in Camistane, and still have room to spare. It was almost enough to put the nightmare of the inn from her mind. Almost.

"Stop dawdling, Princess," said Helicent, jabbing Meriel in the ribs. "We have to go quick, remember?"

And just like that, reality crashed back in on Meriel. Her legs were weak, but she trotted after the others. Telis was beating a path down one empty street. The street, inclining slowly, went up a gentle hill, and at the top of the hill joined with the wall of Camistane. The wall, and the gate. Escape.

Several guards blocked their way at the gate, burly men with steel breastplates and coloured pauldrons. Meriel pulled the hood of her cloak over her face, suddenly all too aware that her blindfold was currently in her saddlebag. Helicent squeezed her hand and gave her a gentle smile.

"The gate's closed," one of the guards said, as Telis approached. "Can you not see that?"

"I can, and I'm asking you to open it."

"It's still dark out," the guard scoffed.

Another stepped forward, this one a slender man with dirty blonde hair cropped short beneath a squat helmet. "Some would find this all a little bit peculiar," he said silkily. "Three women and a man, desperate to leave by night-time. It's a dangerous road to travel."

"Dangerous?" laughed Cad. "How dangerous can a road be?"

A few of the guards gave him funny looks. The slender guard fixed eyes on him. "We're very close to the border, son. To the Salted Lands. There are things in those lands that care not a jot for roads—things that will eat a man and leave nothing but the soles of his boots. To pass through by day is dangerous. To pass through by night is something I cannot countenance."

Telis straightened her back. "You would keep us here against our will?"

"I am the Captain," said the guard. "Who goes in or out of this city is mine to decide, unless the Margrave himself wishes otherwise. Only a Magus could survive in the Salted Lands by night. And I'd think twice before pretending to be a Magus so I'll let you pass—by order of the Margrave, all Magi are to be arrested for... questioning." His eyes swept over the four of them. They lingered on Meriel for a little too long, and a smirk crossed his lips. She shut her eyes and turned away. Had he noticed? "You see my dilemma," the Captain continued. "I would hate to find what little remains of you when I'm on my next patrol."

"Listen, Captain," said Telis, "you have murderers within your walls. Howel Tomarty and his wife Retta are dead. The people responsible are after my children and I, and if we remain in Camistane for much longer we will certainly die here. I will take my chances in the Salted Lands."

The Captain's eyes widened. "Is this true? Someone go to check on Fer Tomarty." One of the other guards ran off towards the inn. The Captain, meanwhile, leaned in close to Telis, and spoke in a whisper Meriel could barely hear: "You should know that the Margrave bears no ill will to the Magi, and neither do I. There are interlopers in Camistane, men who wish the Magi gone. They arrived three days hence. The Margrave can do nothing. They have his daughter, and her life would be forfeit if he were to defy them. For the safety of this city, Fera, I must appear to be making every effort to catch Magi and deliver them to the evil-doers. Leave now, and breathe no word of this to anybody. Stay away from Camistane until it is safe—and be wary of other cities. Who can say where else your warrant is held." He backed away from Telis and waved an arm, turning to another guard. "Open the gate, Trem."

"Sir?"

"Let these people leave."

Trem the guard nodded. The gate was slow—painfully slow—in opening; Meriel kept glancing back down the street behind them, as though the man from the inn's friends would appear at any moment. The sky was lightening with the coming of dawn; Camistane, now, was a town in stand-off, as it were, holding silent for a few final moments before the deluge of citizens about their daily business would begin to burst forth from houses. In just a few minutes, they'd be gone from the town...

"What was that?" Helicent, watching just as Meriel, suddenly reached for her bow. "Something in the shadows."

"A drunkard having a piss," said Cad. "Someone out to market. Could be anything."

Helicent shook her head. "I don't think so."

"You're worrying too much," Cad told her—but there was an edge to his voice that made Meriel wonder if, perhaps, he wasn't as confident as his bravado suggested. Telis clearly heard it too.

"Is there any way you can hurry the gate, Captain?"

"It's a simple mechanism," said the Captain, "but one speed only, sadly."

For a dozen heartbeats nothing changed. The gate still crawled open under Trem's direction, and the street behind still held nothing but shadows and silence. Then, Helicent nocked her bow and loosed a shot into the thick of those shadows. Meriel's wasn't the only head that whipped around to look at her.

"Men," Helicent shrugged, "and not friendly."

Meriel could see only the shadows still. In her imagination, the shadows seemed to dance as if mocking her by the prospect of armed men they might hold. Nothing came from those shadows, though; the streets remained deathly still, until at last the gate was open. Drawing her hood tight again, Meriel stepped through the gap, after Telis but before the others.

Outside Camistane, the four of them stood for a while. Behind them, the gate creaked shut, slowly but inexorably. It hit the ground with a heavy thud; the echoes rang for a second, then stopped, and Camistane was behind them. In front of them was emptiness.

"Our horses," said Cad suddenly. "We left them in the bothy."

"We can't go back for them." Telis sounded calm about the idea. She didn't even turn her head to meet Cad's gaze.

"Of course we can," he said, stubbornly. "We'll just follow the wall around. How can we go without our horses?"

Telis rounded on him. "If you wanted to keep somebody from leaving a city, the first thing you would do is set a man to watch their horses. They'd be upon you before you could so much as lay a finger on the saddle."

"You have magic," said Cad. "They don't."

"Even if I had the inclination, I cannot defend you from men. Every life taken with the power of a Magus takes its toll; I cannot risk taking another, not until my balance is restored in full. Each Magus has her breaking point. There's no guarantee I'd not strike you all in my madness, if I were to hit mine." Telis shook her head. "It's a long walk to Falien, and daylight is passing us by. Come."

And they walked, until—for the first time in her life—Meriel began to pine for the feeling of saddlesore legs.