The Tower Broken(95)

His foot fell on a glimmering path-stone and he stopped, lifting his foot. ‘Mura.’ To either side of his shoe pattern-shapes arced away, tracing a circle around the courtyard. ‘Get Moreth,’ he told Mura, ‘hurry.’ He crouched to examine the pattern lines. It was a destruction spell, but a symbol he did not understand. Hiss-nick. Adam had taught it to him – likely it meant stone. Did I do this?

‘There’s a pattern here,’ he said when the mages rejoined him. He showed them where to step in order to remain safe. ‘It’s of Mogyrk.’

Moreth knelt and put a hand to the ground. ‘There are five people close by,’ he said, ‘two with the carriage and …’ He fell silent, then whispered, ‘Two more just jumped down from a wall. Running—’

‘Can you catch them?’ Mura laid a hand on Moreth’s shoulder, her eyes wide.

‘—away from us.’

Farid jerked his head up and looked around the courtyard. ‘Where?’

‘To my right.’ The stone buckled around Moreth’s hand and rippled away in a liquid, shifting stream of sand and pebble. It flowed against the high wall, which billowed like a sail in the wind, shimmering a moment before returning to its rigid form. ‘Caught them,’ he said through gritted teeth.

Mura was already running towards the gate and he followed. Though the stone had caught them, they might still have weapons that could put her in danger. As he passed the carriage, not looking at the drivers who turned and called after him, he realised he was the one at risk – he had neither bound spirit nor weapons. He would be useless in a fight, while Mura had her wind. He was a fool to think he could protect her – neither would he have been able to protect Rushes had those Mogyrks attacked them in the alley. He remembered how Grada had fought the pale folk and his feet slowed. If he was not useful in a fight, he would be useful in some other way. To begin with, he could try to keep a level head.

Moreth’s captives were further away than he expected and by the time he got there he was tired again. He bent, held his knees and caught his breath. The two men wore dark cloaks; they were struggling against the stone which had risen over their feet, trapping them where they stood. Mura stood a man’s length away and raised her hands. A strong wind blew along the wall and forced back their cloak-hoods, revealing Cerani faces, dark hair.

‘Men of Yrkmir,’ said Mura, her voice loud and threatening, ‘you do not belong here.’

The men looked at one another. ‘“Men of Yrkmir”?’ said one. ‘We were just running—’ The other one punched his arm and he stopped talking.

‘Rebels, then.’ Mura faced them, her arms held wide, ready to counter any attack.

But Farid frowned. This did not seem right. The men were too well-dressed for Mogyrk rebels and not well-dressed enough to be austeres – at least, he imagined all austeres dressed as well as Adam. He would guess these men were thieves, successful thieves. Who else would have remained in the city this long? Only someone who wanted to loot the empty houses.

Moreth ran up beside him, balancing himself against the wall as if he felt dizzy. When he saw the two men he fell to his knees. ‘No, no, no …’ His hands went to the ground.

‘It’s all right, Moreth. Let them go; they’re not our men.’

Mura turned and frowned at him. ‘You’re sure?’

But Moreth made a high, keening noise and arched his back, then rolled to his side and curled into a ball, gasping.

‘Moreth— Moreth, are you well?’ Farid put a hand on his shoulder.

Mura screamed and he jumped up, his hands in fists, but she was not under attack. She was looking at the spot where the two men had been, but nothing remained there other than a pool of blood on the stone, reflecting the light of the sun.

Farid looked up and down the street, but he could not see the men, either dead or alive. He turned to Moreth, his hands shaking. ‘What happened? Where did they go?’

‘Moreth is newly sworn,’ said Mura, breathing hard. ‘He lost control of Rorswan and let him swallow those men. He never should have been—’

Farid looked at Moreth. ‘You murdered them?’

‘His spirit took them. Govnan trained him too quickly; he does not yet have enough control.’ She walked towards Moreth, her eyes on the stone beneath her feet. Farid realised the danger and stepped back, though he too was still standing on the paving.

Mura put a hand on the rock-sworn’s shoulder and spoke in a calming tone. ‘Do you have control now?’

Moreth nodded and Mura rubbed her forehead, leaving a red mark beneath her ward. ‘There is nothing to be done about it. Moreth, I cannot leave you alone. You and I will go to the wall together. Farid will go to the palace and report about the pattern.’