Wind whipped clumps of snowflakes around Liv as she bounced on a padded leather bench. She was wrapped in a blanket, sitting next to Drake atop his carriage, while four black horses pulled them through the night, past snow-covered trees. Spark lanterns, mounted to the corners, cast twisting shadows over a country road.
Drake poured steaming liquid from a steel cylinder into a mug and held it out to her.
She didn’t take it.
“It’s just cider. I don’t go in for any of that rot-brew nonsense. That damn stuff’s addictive.” He took a swig and offered her the mug again.
Liv worked her hand out from under the blanket, grasped it, and took a sip. Something tasted off, too bitter. “Is there alcohol in this?”
“Just enough to add flavor. You’d need to drink the whole pot if you wanted to get drunk.” He stretched his mouth in a silent yawn. “So, is it okay to tell me where we’re going yet?”
“What are you going to do with them?”
“The blooms? Well, I don’t think it would be wise to just hand them over to the king. He’s liable to use them. But he can’t know we’re withholding them either. We’ll need to lie, maybe tell him Scaggs needs to activate them? Give him a reason to keep her alive. But we will need to give him one or two right away.”
Liv shook her head. “What about Shivar? I can only turn them over if you promise no one will be hurt.”
Drake looked at her, a hint of a frown on his normally too friendly face. “Olivia, don’t be a child. Of course, people are going to be hurt… and killed. The Shivari have the bloom too. If we do nothing, we’ll just be ensuring that the only people killed are Norians, and a lot of them. But if we act, we can keep casualties to a minimum—on both sides. At the end of the day, we’ll be saving lives.”
It made sense, but somehow Liv knew Ms. Scaggs would never agree. “How about we just threaten them?”
“Yes, that’s the first thing we’ll try. We’ll have to convince the king, of course, but say we put one on a ship in their harbor and gave them a ‘light show’? That would give them pause… though knowing the king, he’ll want tit for tat, revenge for the clock tower.”
“I can’t agree to that.”
“Only four people died in that tower. That’s not so bad, considering. But let’s steer him toward the ship idea. And don’t forget to count Scaggs’ life in that equation. We can have her placed in my custody, practically a guest in my house. She could make all the difference, given the chance.”
“What if it isn’t them, the Shivari?”
“Then blowing up a single empty ship won’t do any real harm.”
The carriage slowed, stopping at a crossroads so that the only sounds were the wind and the horses.
“Which way?” Drake asked, holding out the palm of his hand. “Or are we headed back?”
Liv sat in silence. A flame bloom could kill what? A hundred people? A thousand? With fifty of them that math was terrifying. If they were used that way, Scaggs… it would destroy her. But she had kept them around for a reason, and she had named Drake—specifically—as the one she would give them to.
Olivia pointed to the northeastern road, the one that followed the river. “Just head to Wrighting for now.”
? ? ?
As they passed into the foothills, the wind died down, leaving the air still, save for the gently falling snow.
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“About that,” said Drake. “I’m not convinced it was the Shivari.”
“Me neither. I don’t know why. I just have this uneasy feeling.”
“The wizards constructed that clock as a gift to Noria when we were given seats on the council. It came with a promise: that we’d always be true to Noria and abide by its laws.”
“Wait, so maybe a wizard wants to break that promise?”
Drake shook his head. “It’s not magical or anything. We break it all the time. It’s just wording it that way really… pissed-on the Church.”
Liv remembered a passage in the Verses about holding its laws above all others. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”
“You were?”
“I think… I know where the bloom that destroyed the clock came from. Someone stole one months ago, a priest from the Church. We got it back, but I… ended up dropping it in the river, along with six pages of Ms. Scaggs’ notes.”
“You think they fished it out?”
“I thought that the priest died. He fell into the river. I watched. He didn’t come up. But it’s possible, I guess.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” Drake said in such a polite way as to make Liv feel that it was most definitely her fault. “Could they make more with those notes?”
“Ms. Scaggs didn’t think so.”
“Well, thank Songs for that. The two in the harbor, one was a sample Scaggs gave us, but there was another, something similar anyway. The Shivari have… something.”
“You sure?”
“No.” He shrugged. “It’s just my best guess. So, if the Church did blow up the council clock, that would be it, they would be all out?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Unless they figured out the notes,” said Liv, dread creeping in.
? ? ?
They rode the next few miles in silence. It seemed like she’d already made up her mind, like as soon as she’d seen the burning tower, she didn’t really have a choice.
She spoke, “Rosewater. We’re going to Rosewater.”
Drake nodded, and a minute later, asked, “Hey Olivia, I don’t mean to pry. Which means I’m about to do just that. But how did you manage it?”
“What?”
“The whole,” he waved a hand in front of his chest, “woman thing?”
She blushed, and sweated, and felt queasy all at once.
“I’m only curious. Did you find Whatshiznam’s notes? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m dying to know, so if you don’t… In a way you’d be murdering me.” It was obvious he meant that as a joke, but it had come out wrong, creepy.
“Why, you want to be a witch?” she jabbed back at him.
“Oh, no, no,” his voice cracked. “I’m just interested in magic.”
“So, explain something to me,” Liv said. “The first of mages, the guy who made all women mages’ lives hell, Lord Parris dies. Leaving you in charge—”
“I was never in charge,” he interrupted.
“But you—”
“Lied to keep myself from being put in charge.”
“But you’re—”
“A coward and proud of it. Think on this, if everyone was, would there be any war?”
“No,” she groaned.
A few seconds later, he asked, “Why does Scaggs want to be called a ‘wizardess’ anyway? It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Why not just ‘wizard’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe just to be annoying?”
“Could be.” Liv nodded. “Me, I kind of like ‘witch.’ It’s scarier.”
He returned her nod and drove on.
? ? ?
Liv wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to spot the turnoff at night, but with the leaves gone from the trees, it was visible from the road.
She gulped, giving Drake one last glance. “Here we are.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Ms. Scaggs’ old house.” And as they approached, the light from the wagon cast long, sliding shadows through the skeletal remains of a burnt-out cottage onto the crisp white snow.
“Pull up there.” She pointed, adding, “For a second I thought it might be frozen over.”
“Oh… the river, of course,” Drake whispered. “Whereabouts?”
He hopped down, and Liv led him to the water’s edge. “Here somewhere.”
Drake stuck his head in, under the water.
A moment later, he stood up, his hair dripping with river water. “Got it.” And as he lifted his hand, humming with spark, an iron chest broke the surface. “I used to go fishing like this, back in the day, you know, when the Church was hunting me.”
With a grunt and a groan and amber sparks crackling off it, the chest lifted through the air and deposited itself onto the back of his carriage.
“What now?” Liv asked.
“Rest, just for a bit.” Drake staggered back, leaning against a carriage wheel. He was shivering, his teeth chattering, and Liv knew it wasn’t only from the cold.
She fetched him a cup of warm cider.
He downed it and sighed pleasantly. “You really have been lovely. Quite congenial. So, I’ve decided to let you choose. How would you like to die?”
Her stomach sank. The only real surprise was that she wasn’t surprised at all. Lifting her hand, she shot spark into his forehead.
As the echoing thunder faded, he waggled his head. “Egad! My ears will be ringing for days— Raw spark isn’t much good against a wizard. We’re too good at channeling it. I’m so sorry, Liv. You really should have taken that bribe. You’re far too ethical for what comes next.”
“No, no I’m not.” She shook her head as her stomach tingled with the chill. “Try me.”
“War with the Church. Shivar gets the blame.”
“Oh Song. Wait a minute… you blew up the clock tow—”
“I didn’t blow up anything, a priest did. But yes,” he nodded, “To get you to give me the blooms. If you want it quick and painless, I could explode your head, though that’s messy. Maybe a heart attack?”
Liv backed away.
“Or I’ve been working on this… you could go to sleep and simply never wake up. That’s not unpleasant, is it?”
When she turned to run, she felt herself lift into the air.
Drake released his spark, dropping her to the snow. “Come on then, make your choice. We haven’t got all night.”
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If you were Liv, what would you have done? (rather than trusting Drake)
