The Tower Broken(39)

‘I come here with questions of magic that are beyond the Blue Shields to answer,’ said Naru, his gaze still on the stones by his feet.

‘All such questions are beyond the Blue Shields to answer,’ the mage replied. A breeze lifted the bottom of her robes, revealing fine sandals tied with beaded copper.

‘This man,’ said Naru, indicating Farid, ‘was held captive by Mogyrks, and saw much of their workings.’

Farid forced himself to raise his head and meet the mage’s eyes. She watched him wordlessly, her eyes taking him deep into a realm of sky. Something moved within her, a creature of air and storm, and he felt its breath on his face, cold and curious. They stood in silence for such a long time the soldiers began to look at one another and make small noises in their throats. The mage paid them no mind, and turned to Naru only when she was satisfied. ‘I will take him from here. I am Mura.’

Naru put an arm out in front of Farid. ‘I must bring him back to the guard-post. He has information—’

‘I told you where to find the Mogyrk’s house,’ said Farid, looking beyond the mage to where he could see a long, well-lit gallery lined with statues. ‘What else could I tell you?’ The Tower pulled at him and he longed to enter it, to draw his patterns among its stones and curves.

‘But what do we do with the girl?’

Farid looked to the mage. ‘I escaped with a girl and the child she cares for. Can she not come here?’

‘Bring this girl. I will make a judgement then.’ Mura beckoned to Farid, and Naru dropped his arm and allowed him to pass. Farid knew the old guard had not expected him to be welcomed into the Tower. The Blue Shields turned and walked back towards the gate, whispering amongst themselves.

Farid took a final step that lifted him over the Tower threshold, bracing himself to see spirits strange and wondrous, men riding carpets or djinn standing upon piles of gold, but his feet met only stone and the corridor lay plain before him. Mura smiled at his confusion and pointed at the doors. They closed of their own accord, and Farid examined them, searching for a lever or spring.

‘Yomawa.’ She offered no more, leaving him to wonder whether she had uttered an incantation or spoken to him in another language. He followed her through the gallery lined with statues, uncomfortable that he had been left alone with a woman of higher class. He did not wish to mar her reputation, and so he slowed to inspect the carvings, keeping a respectful distance between them. The artist had rendered the men and women so perfectly he could see their teeth, the fingernails on their hands, each hair upon their heads.

‘These were our rock-sworn,’ she said, touching the last. ‘This was High Mage Kobar.’

He drew back in alarm. ‘These were alive?’

‘These were our mages. Their spirits claimed them, as all spirits will.’ She spoke without sadness.

She led him to a curving marble staircase and began the climb, her steps light and quick, and he followed, careful not to watch her from behind and to keep space between them. At the first landing she spoke again. ‘I too was a prisoner of the Mogyrks, taken in Fryth. Only recently did he let me go.’

‘Why did he let you go?’ Farid asked, hoping to understand why Adam had let him and Rushes escape. Perhaps Mura’s tale would offer a clue.

‘He hoped that I would bring a message of his good intent, but I cannot.’

Farid thought about that a moment. Adam had not been bent towards helping, unless you counted the collection of souls for his god. ‘Your captor did not have good intent?’

She said nothing for several steps. ‘I do not know,’ she said at last, ‘and I will not say he did and become a traitor. Who held you?’

‘His name was Adam.’

She halted at the next landing; at first he believed her out of breath, but when she turned he saw it was Adam’s name that had shocked her.

‘My captor the Duke of Fryth spoke of this Adam,’ she said. ‘He is an austere, and ranks high in the Mogyrk church.’

Farid held a hand to his mouth, suddenly realising the extent of the danger he had been in.

‘Come,’ she said, and resumed their upwards journey with more haste.

When at last they reached the high mage’s level, Farid leaned against the stair rails, catching his breath, though the mage looked as fresh as she had when first she opened the door. She looked at him, her eyes shifting with various shades of blue. ‘My name is Mura,’ she said, though she had already named herself in front of the soldiers.

‘I am Farid.’ He wondered if there was an honorific for mages. He had never heard of one, but it did not feel right to address a woman of such prestige with her given name.