Not that the villagers cared. A mage was a mage to them. As Thomas and I crept out and huddled in the shadows where the passageway opened into the Eyrie, I heard the rustle and thud of mundanes dropping to their knees. Impi stretched out his bejewelled hand, and each of the villagers shuffled forward on their knees to kiss his ring.
Sure enough there was Grumpy the blacksmith, a hulking fellow with a huge belly and a perpetually scowling slit of a mouth—and backing him up were four of his drinking buddies. Always sitting round in the inn complaining the world was doing them wrong when they should’ve been home helping their sisters.
It made sense that Grumpy would rat on Bright. Bright’s valet, Graceson, was Grumpy’s nephew and their scandalous relationship did Grumpy no favours in the village. I wondered if he realised that his nephew would come out far worse in any brush with my uncle than Bright would. Perhaps he didn’t care. Men are strange cattle, as the saying goes.
Impi waved his hand languidly at the villagers.
“Please rise. How may I be of service to you, my fine peasants?”
Amazing how he could make the most innocent words sound belittling.
“With all due respect to your lordship, we come to tell you we don’t hold with mages staying overnight in the village, ’specially not during Blessing time. We’d be very beholden to you if you could make our representation to the mages concerned,” said Grumpy.
“Mages?” asked Impi. “What mages?”
“Lord Bright,” muttered Grumpy. “We don’t hold with it, whatever Jar Ellasdaughter says. It breaks our sacred agreement. No mages overnight in the village, that’s how it’s always been.”
“Lord Bright is lodged in the village?” said Impi calmly. He flicked an imaginary piece of dust off his sleeve. “How very interesting.”
“Thomas, quickly, get my horse saddled,” I hissed. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
Thomas ran away down the darkened hall.
I darted back into the breakfast room. Katti had sensed my urgency and was up already, stretching her back into an arch. By the light of the banked-up fire, I scribbled a note of warning and tied it securely round Katti’s collar, all the time telling her to go to Bright in the village inn. If she went straight there, she would get there very quickly, but cats are easily distracted and I knew I had to follow her to be sure.
I shoved open the glass door to the breakfast room and she shot past my legs and lopped away towards the village while I ran round to the stables.
I KEPT THE horse at a canter most of the way despite the track being dark and rough underfoot. All the time I was peering back over my shoulder, certain that the mages would set out immediately. When Bright’s relationship with Graceson had finally become a scandal, Impi had had his retainers thrash him in the street. They’d hurt him so badly that Bright’d been too concussed to use magic and had had to come back to Willow by canal boat. I still remembered the swollen eye, the broken nose and the dark bruises. Graceson said he’d pissed blood at first and it was two days before he could heal himself enough to walk properly. Impi had promised a repeat performance if he ever set eyes on Bright again.
My one consolation was that Impi would want to gather help and he would need to be selective in who he chose for such a sensitive family mission. The women would be praying tonight and unavailable, and he would not want to involve mere retainer mages. This gave me some hope of beating them there.
As I cantered down the dirt track that was the village’s main street, I was cheered to see no sign of crystal light behind me. The tap room of the big whitewashed inn at the village centre was noisy with drinkers, but everything else seemed quiet. I leapt off my horse and ran into the inn.
“Where’s the mage?” I cried to the little serving boy, who was passing through the front hall way with a tray full of dirty plates.
“Parlour or—”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. I dashed up the stairs and barged in through the private parlour door crying, “Look out. Impi’s coming.”
“Why, my dear!” said a languid voice. “Unpleasant news, no doubt, but surely not cause for alarm.”
I found myself facing not Bright, but another of my noble cousins, Lady Sparklea, the one who’d let me out of the closet all those years ago. The only decent one of the lot. She was standing by the fire in riding boots, plain travelling clothes and a merely medium-sized hat: yet she still looked stylish. Klea always did.
“Oh, no! Sorry, I—”
There was a crash from upstairs and an explosion of magic. Without pausing to think I blurted out, “Bright’s hiding upstairs. Impi and the others have come to beat him up. I have to help him. He’s almost exhausted.”
“You can’t go up there,” shouted Klea, as I dashed back towards the door.
I felt myself seized by her power and pulled back as she raced past me and up the stairs. I went after her, only to run into her back on the top step.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, uncertain of her loyalties. As children, she and Bright and I had all been great friends, but it was a long time since I’d last seen her.
“Rescue Bright, of course,” cried Klea, pushing me back against a door at the end of the corridor. “I told you to stay.”
She had her hat pulled down over her head and was tying a kerchief over her nose, covering everything but her eyes.
Further down the hall, a door hung shattered on its hinges and sounds of shouting and breaking wood came from the room. Even as Klea flew towards the broken door, a burst of power shot out, blurring the air and blasting a hole in the wall of the corridor. Klea threw herself in at the door, power already forming between her hands, and almost tripped over a large animal shape that came streaking out through her legs.
“Katti! Here! Good girl!” I shrieked, as the blast of magic rocked the whole inn.
As I tried to reach out and catch her, someone touched my arm. I jumped so much, I missed Katti and she fled away down the stairs.
“Shine, stay in here,” cried Graceson. He’d come out of the other room. He had a loaded crossbow in his hand and he was making for Bright’s room.
I seized his arm. “No! You stay. A mage has gone to help Bright.” Even as I spoke, the whole inn rocked to another blast of power. Graceson and I clutched each other.
“For Mother’s sake, put that thing down,” I cried over the sounds of shouting and smashing.
Graceson pulled the bolt out of the crossbow. “I smell smoke,” he said.
The fire or candles in Bright’s room must have got away—inevitable in a magical fight with so much air swirling around. Even as we smelt the smoke, it began to fill the corridor. Graceson and I tumbled down the stairs as quick as we could, both screaming “Fire! Fire!”
Not that we needed to. The last of the villagers were already rushing out into the street. People were screaming and shouting. The round figure of Jar Ellasdaughter could be seen organising a bucket line from the well. Someone was running towards the inn carrying a ladder.
As Graceson and I ran towards the well to help, a hole burst in the thatched roof of the inn and two figures shot out and streaked away across the sky, arm in arm. Burning straw flew everywhere as three more figures burst through another part of the roof and shot off in the same direction. From the speed of the first couple, I was certain that that was Klea in the front, which meant that Bright was most likely safe. I eased out a sigh of relief.