The Tower Broken(93)

Govnan could not allow it; there would be no Nooria to protect if he allowed the void to flow past the Worship Gate. Sarmin had been clear with his orders, and so Govnan sent a negative along his bond to Metrishet. We stay here. But he wondered whether the emperor had a plan, and what magical defences he had managed. Helmar had come close to destroying them once before; now all of Yrkmir’s power stood in the desert outside the western wall. He shivered, though the late afternoon sun beat down on him. He had made his choice. He would remain at his station.

He lingered on his sorrow for only an instant, for one of the smaller spirits now attempted to flit from his grasp. Kirilatat was its name. Govnan thought of Kirilatat as a woman though it was Metrishet who wore a woman’s form. He wrestled with its will. Stay in place. But he grew weak, falling to his knees. Yrkmir’s presence unnerved and frightened him. He could do nothing for the young mages, for the Tower, for all that the Tower stood to protect. He could do only as Sarmin had commanded. He geared all of his focus to the building of the net.

We are hungry.

He ignored the chorus of the efreet; he knew they could exist for years without eating. Ashanagur had eaten only five times in all the time Govnan held him before. It was a matter of will. Stay. He lifted his waterskin. An instant later he threw it to the ground. The liquid burned against his lips and left a trail that sizzled like burning oil as it dribbled down his chin. He was more fire than man now; water would no longer strengthen him. He untied a sack holding bread and cheese and wrinkled his nose in disgust. His own mind turned to the Yrkmen – so many of them, all that flesh living and unburned.

Ashanagur expanded again, its flames licking against Govnan’s face, and Govnan lifted his chin, allowing it to heat his cheeks like the sun. When they had been joined before it had not been as two separate entities, and over the years he had forgotten Ashanagur’s beauty and power. So we eat? Ashanagur asked, low and seductive.

Desire overwhelmed Govnan, so deep that his bones hummed with it and his throat hollowed. No. He struggled to master himself as well as the efreet. No. We build this net.

Soon. Ashanagur mocked him. Soon.





40



Farid


‘There you are.’ Moreth shuffled into the library, walking past the pattern that shifted bright upon the wall and looked over the table, his eyes stony but showing grief nevertheless. The warding-symbol Farid had drawn on his forehead glowed blue and yellow. ‘Mura has been in your rooms and up and down the stairs looking for you.’

Farid had been searching the ancient patterns for anything they could use against Yrkmir, but his understanding of them was coming too slowly. He put his work aside and looked up at the rock-sworn. ‘I am always in the library. Hasn’t she noticed?’

‘Always? You have not been here so long as that,’ Moreth said. ‘Rock and wind measure time on a different scale, and even on the human one, you are new.’ He went to the window and looked out over the northern quarter. ‘Have you seen Govnan’s fires?’

‘How could I not?’ Farid had watched them all night: Govnan had not slept, and neither had he. Both of them bore magic requiring more control than dreams allowed. His greatest fear was waking to find he had cast a spell upon the Tower.

He cleared his throat. ‘If you see the fires it means the high mage is still alive and the northern wall stands safe.’ We will see about the western wall. Farid felt a cold dread. The truce had yet two more days, but the Yrkmen soldiers and their pale austere filled his mind. He did not believe the truce would end peacefully – the emperor would not convert to Mogyrk; that was unthinkable.

And that meant only one thing: war, blood, death. He spoke to Moreth again, speaking bravely for himself as much as for the rock-sworn. ‘The way I see it, we’re all soldiers, of a magical kind, and we have to work together to keep the city safe. I think Govnan knew this.’

Moreth turned his head away. ‘Yes. He did. He does.’

Farid stood. ‘Why were you looking for me?’

‘Your magic is different from ours. We have a problem our elementals cannot fix. Will you look?’

‘Of course.’ Before leaving the room he stopped and said, ‘Can you see anything different in this room?’

He could see the colourful pattern on the wall, but Moreth looked around and shrugged. ‘Only the normal things.’ They left the library and began a slow descent. Moreth’s steps were solid and sure but Farid held on to the wall with one hand, noticing the cracks between the carvings, the cobwebs in the corners, the dust that lay over everything. They reached the rock-sworn statues and Moreth showed him yet another stairway, this one going below. Here Mura joined them. She smelled of roses, and he could see her own warding symbol glowing from her skin.