Bronze Magic (Book 1) Page 3

  The taller man guffawed, “Oh, that’s good one. Can he help us?” He turned to his companions, “What do you think? Can he help us?” Suddenly he turned back to the prince and snarled, revealing yellowed, jagged teeth, “Of course you can bloody help us. You’re rich. We’re poor. We want your money.”

  It dawned on Tarkyn that they would not believe him if he told them that he had none. So instead he said, “I can imagine you might. You certainly look to be in need of a good meal and decent clothes. Perhaps we could come to some arrangement.”

  “Perhaps we could.” The old woman’s mouth stretched into a sneer as she drew a long knife from within her skirts. “We can agree to let you live, if you agree to give us your money.”

  His would-be attackers saw a slight smile appear within the hood’s shadow. “That was not quite the arrangement I had in mind.”

  The smile unnerved them. Suddenly the boy asked, “Where’s your sword? Someone like you usually has a sword.”

  The smile broadened. “I only use my sword for show. I find it a clumsy weapon and have no need of it to defend myself.”

  “Hmp. Dad uses magic to fight too, you know. So don’t think you’re safe.”

  Although the thieves were unaware of it, Tarkyn did not want to use his shield or his attacking power. His magic’s colour was unique and would give away his identity as surely as his physical appearance would. He inclined his head, “Thank you for warning me, young man. And what about the rest of you?”

  “Shut yer face, you stupid lad!” The shorter man cuffed the boy across the back of the head before snarling at Tarkyn, “Don’t think we’re going to tell you what magic we each have. We’re not. You don’t need to know about us. All you need to know is that we all carry knives and know how to use them.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. This looks to be a rough area. I can imagine you might need to defend yourselves.”

  The two men looked baffled as their attempts to intimidate Tarkyn met with frustration. The old woman sighed in irritation, and snapped, “Idiots! Don’t stand there talking. Get his purse.”

  As the thieves surged forward, Tarkyn waved his hand and incanted, “Shturrum.”

  They froze where they stood. Tarkyn then bodily lifted the girl to hold her against him, facing outwards. With a flourish, he produced his hunting knife and, with the eyes of his victims following his every move, placed the knife carefully against her throat. He could feel the coarse material of her dress, stiffened with dirt, beneath his hand as he waved his fingers to release his spell. He had not mistaken the thieves’ closeness. With the girl in his power, the rest of the family backed off.

  “Now, about that arrangement we were discussing...”

  Half an hour later found them in a disused, partly demolished warehouse, down near the river. Tarkyn noted the pitiful rags and scrounged implements of their belongings piled against a wall. Threadbare blankets were strewn in cleared patches in the rubble. They were not very clever thieves, he decided.

  Tarkyn still held the girl in front of him. With his face in the shadow of his hood and the knife at the girl’s throat, his tall cloaked figure exuded menace. The other four thieves stood around him, taut and wary, waiting for the slightest opportunity to recover their kin.

  “And now that we are safely out of view, we can talk.” Tarkyn studied their thin, sullen faces. “You seem to have a lean hungry look about you. Perhaps you need to eat first.”

  “We was just off to pinch something from the baker’s when we spotted you, prime for the picking...at least that’s what we thought.” The boy scuffed his foot in the dust. His shoe was coming apart at the seams and the sole was hanging off at the front.

  “I see. Perhaps I can do something about that.” Tarkyn glanced at the old woman. “Now, I wish to make you a proposition. Although at the moment, I hold the balance of power, I do not hold all the knowledge and so I will listen if you raise objections. Do you understand?”

  “Some of us are not as stupid as others,” said the old woman acerbically. “State your terms.”

  “I need something sold for me. In return, I will give you one half of its value. Unless I am much mistaken, even that will set you up for life.”

  The old woman folded her arms, “And why would you pay us when you don’t need to?”

  He looked around at their squalid living conditions. “Because I am not a thief and will pay you for your services. Besides, you are right. You are poor and need the money.”

  “And if we agree to do this, will you let my granddaughter go unharmed?”

  Tarkyn shook his head regretfully. “Not until you have delivered all of the money to me with a receipt from the buyer. And in addition, I will need to be safely out of town before I let her go. I don’t want you sneaking up on me again as soon as my back is turned.”

  The old woman glanced a query at the two men and received brief nods in return. “Yeah, we agree.” She spat on the ground, “Don’t have much choice, do we? What do you want sold?”

  “Just a minute,” Tarkyn stood up, transferred his knife to his right hand, and held the tip of it against the girl’s ribs so that he could free up his left hand to feel in his pocket and rummage through the leather purse. After considerable fumbling through larger pieces, his hand finally closed on a small diamond pin that he used to hold his necktie in place.

  As he withdrew his hand from his pocket, the girl took her chance on his divided attention. She yanked herself to her left and around, driving her right arm back towards him. A small knife flashed in her hand. All Tarkyn could do in time to avoid the knife, was let her go and jump backwards out of range. At the same time, the two men came at him from either side, the grandmother closed in beside the girl and the boy circled around to come at him from the back. With the thieves so spread around him, Tarkyn could not use his freezing spell on all of them. The girl swivelled into a crouch, her eyes filled with hatred, ready to slash up at him. No use now, thought Tarkyn, to tell her that I would not have harmed her.

  Then, as Tarkyn stood balanced on the balls of his feet, preparing for the inevitable attack, the fire died in her eyes and she sank to kneel on one knee. Slowly, she turned her knife and presented the hilt.

  “Your Highness, forgive me,” she whispered. “I would never have attacked, if I’d known it was you.”

  The grandmother put her hands to her mouth and gasped before she too sank to her knees. The two men, a little slower on the uptake sent puzzled glances at the two women before turning to stare at him. Then they too knelt before him.

  Belatedly, Tarkyn realised that his hood had fallen down as he had jumped backwards. “Oh blast,” he murmured to himself, unmoved by their obeisance, “This was not my intention at all.”

  Neither the prince nor the thieves found it at all strange that they who defied the law on one hand, could still revere the royal family on the other. But now Tarkyn was in a real dilemma. Obviously, the family knew nothing about the events at the Great Hall, but as soon as they ventured forth into the market place, they would hear. While he pondered what to do, a slight sound from behind made him spin around just as the boy’s arm whipped forward. Tarkyn ducked, even as the men shouted, “No. Stop!” and a knife whistled over his head to lodge in a wooden upright, only inches to one side of the women.

  “No. You stupid boy!” yelled his father, desperation in his voice. “Don’t you know your own prince? Get down on your knees and beg his forgiveness.”

  Dawning understanding of what he had just done brought horror to the son’s eyes as his gaze swang wildly from father to prince. Knowing he had just committed a hanging offence, he turned on his heel and bolted.

  Tarkyn was not sure that a clear command would penetrate the boy’s panic so he murmured “Shturrum,” and dropped the boy in his tracks. “Bring him to me,” he said quietly.

  “Please, Your Highness,” pleaded the father, “He was behind you. He didn’t realise who you were.”

  “I said, ‘Bring him to
me,’” repeated Tarkyn evenly.

  It occurred to none of them that, at five to one, the odds were still stacked well in the thieves’ favour. Centuries of rule by the Tamadil family had elevated its members to almost omnipotent status in the minds of the common people. Tarkyn removed his spell and waited until the man and his son were knelt before him. Tears rolled down the boy’s face, leaving pale streaks on his dirty face while beside him, the father’s face was a mask of misery. For the longest minute of their lives, the prince looked down on them silently.

  Then he said, “You did well to do as I asked.” The father looked, if anything, more stricken, until Tarkyn added gently, “I would not be so cruel as to force a man to bring his son to his own execution.”

  Relief washed over the father. “Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you.”

  Tarkyn considered them, kneeling before him, “It is not just your son who has transgressed against me. You know, don’t you, that all your lives should be forfeit. But because you did not know who I was, I will not exact that punishment. Equally, for reasons I will explain later, I will not turn you over to the city watch.”

  “See? He’s a fine young prince, he is,” cackled the grandmother, an hysterical edge of relief in her laughter. “He’s kind, this one. That’s why he’s the best loved of the royal brothers.”

  Tarkyn was startled, but after a moment’s reflection, smiled wryly to himself. Even if that were true yesterday, it won’t be today.

  “Here grandmother. Let me help you up.” As he put out his hand and drew the old woman to her feet, he could see that, much as she tried to hide it, it was a struggle for her to get herself up off her stiff knees.

  “Thank you, Sire.” She cocked a sharp eye at her sons, “You two could learn some manners from His Highness here.”

  The taller man grunted, still on his knees, “You don’t have to kneel for us in the first place.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and the man muttered an apology and subsided into silence. “The rest of you may also rise.” He turned to the girl and offered her his hand, “And I am sorry that I treated you so poorly. It is not my usual practice to intimidate young ladies. I hope you were not too afraid. I would never have hurt you.”

  The teenager blushed at being called a young lady then nodded casually, “Yeah, I didn’t think you would, Your Highness.” In response to Tarkyn’s evident surprise, she explained, “You were not very rough, you know. And half the time you forgot to hold the knife against my throat. Your hand kept dropping. And even when you did, you did it gently.”

  “Hmm. Well, I must say it is not a skill I wish to develop.” Tarkyn shuddered inwardly at the experience of violence that lay behind her casually uttered words. He sat down on the large block of stone and crossed his ankles, “So now that you know who I am, we may need to renegotiate our terms.”

  The grandmother bowed, “Of course, Your Highness. You have only to request it, and it shall be done.”

  “Blast!” muttered the shorter man to his brother, “I thought we was onto a bit of a winner here.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “I beg your pardon?”

  The shorter man pulled his forelock, “Beg pardon, Your Highness.” He glanced sideways and murmured, “Sharp ears.”

  “Very sharp,” said Tarkyn, “And I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making little asides in my presence.” He waited for them to absorb this. Several glances passed between them but when they refrained from speaking, he nodded, “Good. And now, to return to our negotiation. I will not renege on our previous agreement. You will still receive one half of the value of this,” here he held up the diamond pin, “on delivery to me of the money and receipt.” He gave a faint smile, “So you may still make your profit.”

  “You are a true man of honour, Your Highness,” said the taller man, still grateful for his son’s life.

  “Of course I am. And despite your profession, I expect you to be men and women of honour also, in your dealings with me.”

  The taller man’s chest swelled with pride, but the grandmother glanced contemptuously at her son. She had heard token words like these before.

  Tarkyn crossed his arms. “And now there is something I need to tell you before you venture forth on my behalf. You may be seated while you listen.” He waited until they settled themselves on various tumbled chunks of masonry. Now that the time had come to tell them, Tarkyn was almost unable to continue. After a moment, he drew a deep breath and began, “Yesterday, during the Harvest Tournament, a shaft of my power went wide and hit a spectator stand. The stand was knocked awry but no one was hurt. In fact, after the initial panic, everyone climbed back onto it to watch the rest of our match. But…” He took another deep breath, “But the king brought me up on charges, because of it.”

  Tarkyn stood up and began to pace back and forth, ignoring the little intakes of breath that he had heard. After a few moments he turned to his small audience and said, “And I did not accept his judgement. I threw up my shield and after that…well… after that, everything went a bit haywire and most of the Royal Guardsmen were killed and the Great Hall opposite the Palace was completely destroyed,” he finished in a rush, grimacing.

  Five pairs of round eyes stared at him from slack faces.

  “You defied the king?” the taller man breathed. “In public?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “So that was why you were alone and kept your hood up,” said the boy, pleased that a puzzle had been explained for him.

  Tarkyn nodded.

  “And the Great Hall has been destroyed?” asked the shorter man, eyes wide with astonishment. “What? You mean, gone? Completely gone?”

  Unconsciously, Tarkyn wrapped his cloak around himself against the onslaught of their reactions. “Pretty much. There is only a big pile of rubble left.”

  “You must have put up one almighty struggle,” said the shorter man, in some awe. “And killing all the king’s guards too. Wow! That is some feat.”

  Tarkyn frowned. “No. It wasn’t like that.” He hunched deeper into his cloak “All I did was raise my shield. But something went wrong with it, and instead of blocking, it reflected back their own weapons at them... and at the walls. I didn’t intentionally kill anyone.”

  “I’d hate to see you try, then,” quipped the shorter man, who did not count sensitivity among his virtues.

  “Yes, you would,” said Tarkyn coldly.

  “Now, stop it, Gillis. I beg your pardon for my son’s behaviour, Your Highness. He never has known when to stop.” The old woman sent a scalding glance at her errant son before beginning to talk to the prince in a soothing voice, almost as though she were calming a wild animal.“Hmm. I expect those guards’ deaths must have been quite shocking for you. You probably knew some of them personally. And you know, I had you down as a pretty harmless sort of a character.”

  Tarkyn’s eyes gleamed in appreciation of her tactics as he replied, “You can never know what a man might do when he is desperate. But you are right. I am a pretty harmless sort of a character. It saddens me that those guardsmen lost their lives.” He gave a rueful smile, “And I could not have hurt your granddaughter.”

  With a conscious effort, Tarkyn pushed his cloak back and sat down, spreading his hands wide. “So there you have it.” It went against all his instincts and upbringing to present himself for comment to anyone but the king. But he had never been in such an invidious position before and could think of nothing else to do, if he wanted their help.

  The taller man gave a small chuckle, “You’re in one bloody great pickle then, aren’t you, my lord?”

  The shorter one whistled, “And you thought we were bad. We’re just petty thieves. But you, Your Highness! You’ve committed high treason, and destroyed a whole public building… Well, they’ll say you did, whether you did or not. You’re in a league of your own.”

  “And you’re no master criminal, that’s for sure,” cackled the old grandmother. “You’ve cut the grou
nd from under your feet, good and proper. Now we know you won’t hurt Morayne and probably not any of the rest of us either. You’re too much of a gentleman, Your Highness. Not wise to have told us that.”

  The prince considered her, unsure whether she spoke a warning or a threat. After a moment he shrugged and gave her a faint smile, “I have placed my fate in your hands and my faith in your honour. Was that so unwise?”

  She stared at him, stunned. And as she thought about it, she realised that what he said was true. He was no longer using force. And hard upon that, came the realization that no one outside the family, let alone a prince, had ever even conceived that she might be honourable, let alone staked his or her life on it.

  “You really have, haven’t you?” A slow smile appeared on her sharp, wrinkled face. The grandmother put hand on her heart and bowed. “No, Your Highness, that was not unwise. You do us great honour and we will live up to your faith in us.”

  A short time later, Tarkyn heard her berating her tribe as they left, “Now, not a word to anyone. Do you understand? I know this is the biggest news we’ve ever had but we can’t tell people. Not anyone. Got it?”

  Then followed a long tedious wait. Tarkyn prowled the inside perimeter of the warehouse, then paced back and forth across the floor until he felt he knew every stone and scrap of rubbish intimately. He tested the rear doors and found that they were all locked. The only way out was through the gaping front door at the front of the building. If his thieving family brought back the city guard, he was trapped.

  He considered using a blast of magic to destroy a lock in a back door but he hesitated to betray his uncertainty in their honour. Sooner or later they, and in particular the old grandmother, would notice what he had done.

  After two hours, his nerves were worn thin with apprehension. He crossed to the front door for the umpteenth time and peered out from within the shadows. Always there were people within his line of sight, carrying goods down to the river docks or hurrying about their business. And everywhere he could see animated knots of people standing and talking in the morning sunshine, arms waving in graphic description. Even from a distance, it was clear that last night’s events were dominating the town.