‘I think you can call me Gully now,’ said the guardswoman. She came over and sat down on the end of Clariel’s bed, with a stretch and a sigh. ‘Ah, I’ve been running backwards and forwards all day. Do you want the long or the short version?’
‘Um, I’m not sure,’ said Clariel. ‘Perhaps the short to begin with.’
‘The creature got away from me,’ said Gully. She stretched again and looked away as she spoke. ‘It can move through stone, albeit not that quickly, but I couldn’t track it once it went deep. Kargrin says the thistle spear weakened it, which was less than he hoped. Evidently the thing is of the second or third order of such entities at least, not something weaker.’
‘Do … Does Kargrin know what it is?’
‘Not yet. He’s scouring bestiaries, but that could take a long time. We’ve sent to Hillfair for the Abhorsen’s advice. He should know more, but Charter knows he doesn’t easily stir himself, even for this sort of thing.’
‘That’s what Bel said. But isn’t that what the Abhorsens are for?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Gully. ‘But old Tyriel lives for his horses and the Grand Hunt, and cares little for anything else. His daughter and the rest of them take their lead from Tyriel. Except for Bel, of course. He’s a throwback to the old days, or would like to be.’
‘Is Bel going to … going to be all right?’ asked Clariel.
‘He’ll live,’ said Gully. ‘Bed for a few days, a sore shoulder for a few weeks. He was lucky. A handsbreadth closer to the throat or chest and he’d have been killed instantly. Not to mention Magister Kargrin getting to him quickly. He is one of the most expert healers in the city. Among other things.’
‘Who shot Bel? It can’t have been the creature, could it?’
Gully shook her head.
‘A mortal follower, likely someone mazed into obeying the creature. It had laid numerous spells on both the Islet and the people there, spells of command and beguilement, reinforcing them over time. I think it’s been here longer than we thought. A year, at least. We should have looked over the Islet long before now.’
‘And is it connected with Governor Kilp?’ asked Clariel.
‘Kargrin still thinks so,’ said Gullaine. ‘But I have yet to see solid evidence that this is so. There are traces of a Free Magic presence by his house, but many people come and go there. Certainly Kilp has ordinary reasons enough to plot, without Free Magic being involved. The King withdraws his authority, Kilp moves in, as far as he is able. That is the nature of power.’
‘The King,’ said Clariel. ‘Who I am to visit tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ replied Gullaine. ‘The ostensible reason for my visit. We will discuss that a little later, if you will. It is simple enough, in terms of ceremony. The King, though old and sometimes crotchety, is not a difficult man. But more importantly right now, I wanted to talk to you about being a berserk.’
‘I’m not a …’ Clariel started to say, then stopped. There was no point trying to deny it, particularly to herself. Gullaine waited patiently for her to continue. Clariel took a deep breath and said, ‘Yes. Yes. I am a berserk.’
‘I, too, am a berserk,’ said Gullaine. She smiled, a faint smile that was not one of happiness, but of troubled memory. ‘My mother was a Clayr, and my father a third cousin of the King. So we are distant relatives, Clariel. Both the Charter and the rage are strong in my bloodline, but I had the Sight very weakly and was never called to the Nine-Day Watch. So I joined the Rangers who patrol the glacier and the lands about it. The rage rose in me the first time I fought bandits, and then again against norn-bears, and it grew inside me like a fire spreads in dry straw until I would snap at the mildest provocation. But I was lucky. There were books about berserks in the Great Library of the Clayr, and sisters and cousins to quite literally restrain me and make me read those books. So I learned early how I might govern myself – to keep the fury in check, but also how to call it up when necessary.’
‘I called the fury today,’ said Clariel quietly. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stop the creature killing Bel …’
‘You did what had to be done,’ said Gullaine. ‘But having roused your berserk nature, you must learn how to master it. I have brought you the book that helped me most. Read it, and return it to me when you can. One day it must go back to the Great Library of the Clayr, under the glacier.’
She took a small, leather-bound book from the pouch at her belt and handed it to Clariel, who glanced at the title, the gilt type deeply embossed on the front cover: The Fury Within: A Study of the Berserk Rage and Related Matters.
‘It is an old book, but then berserks have been around a long time,’ said Gullaine. ‘It contains directions for various exercises of the mind, which can be tedious, but work well. There are also some Charter spells that help contain the fury, though you will need help learning those, I think. Read the book soon.’
‘I will,’ promised Clariel. She meant it too, having been alarmed by her recent experiences. She had experienced the rage twice in three days … it felt as if it was closer now, easier to call upon. Or worse, likely to rise up and boil over at any time, like a stew that had now been moved to a hotter part of the kitchen fire.
But it wasn’t only the berserk fury that troubled Clariel. It was her experience with the Free Magic creature Aziminil, the sense of triumph she had felt when she had entered the creature’s mind, when it had begun to bend to her will. She’d never felt anything like it before, nothing so ecstatic, not even after a day stalking a deer and then the perfect true flight of her arrow, striking exactly the right spot …
Clariel shivered.
‘Are you feverish?’ asked Gullaine, with concern.
‘No,’ said Clariel. ‘No. Just … thinking about what happened today.’
‘Few people have encountered such a creature and survived to speak of it,’ said Gullaine. ‘You did well.’
‘Well enough for Kargrin to keep our bargain?’ asked Clariel. ‘To help me leave Belisaere?’
She had another reason to be gone from the city now. Clariel did not want to meet the Free Magic creature again. Not because of what the creature might do to her, but because of what she might do to it.
‘Yes,’ said Gullaine. She hesitated then added, ‘You will be paid, and you will be helped on your way. Kargrin thinks it would be best that you leave. After you have seen the King.’
‘I suppose,’ said Clariel. ‘The creature … Do you think you will find it, and bind it?’
‘I am sure of it,’ said Gullaine, who was indeed very sure, for reasons not yet to be shared. She watched Clariel carefully as she spoke, but the younger woman didn’t notice. She was looking at her bandage
d hands.
‘It won’t … It won’t come looking for me?’
‘It is extremely unlikely,’ said Gullaine. ‘If it does, five of the dozen guards in your house tonight used to be in the King’s service, all bear the Charter mark, two are quite accomplished Charter Mages. There is also no easy path to get to this house without passing one or more Charter Stones, and the creature cannot or will not do that.’
‘I wonder …’ Clariel said slowly. ‘I wonder if I should stay to help you find it.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Gullaine. ‘Don’t you yearn to be free of the city? Magister Kargrin certainly thought you did.’
‘I do, I do,’ confirmed Clariel, but there was the slightest tinge of doubt in her voice.
‘Presuming you still wish to leave, we will help you,’ said Gullaine. ‘After you have seen the King. Speaking of that, let me tell you of the manner of your presentation tomorrow. It is quite straightforward …’
The Captain spoke on, and Clariel listened, taking in what she needed. But part of her mind was thinking back to Aziminil, remembering the moment when she felt the raw power within the creature.
Power waiting to be called upon, waiting to be directed, waiting to be used.
Power waiting for her …
chapter thirteen
off to the palace
The Academy was not so daunting the second time, now Clariel knew she would be free of it within days. In fact the most difficult part of the morning had been the walk over, with Valannie going on and on about the perfidious day labourers and their attack upon Clariel, and her poor wounded hands despite the fact they had already scabbed over and the unsightly scars were hidden under the thinnest doeskin gloves, bleached whiter than Belisaere stone.
Clariel had even enjoyed the first lesson, ‘The Exercise of the Body, Martial and Merely Aesthetic’, which on this occasion had been mostly aesthetic, practising some of the dances the students would perform as their part of the Autumn Festival. Denima was in that lesson. She came over to Clariel at once to ask her what had happened to her the day before, since rumours were flying all over the city. Clariel stuck with the official story of being attacked by a gang of disaffected workers, which Denima also appeared to accept without demur, indicating that such attacks were a lot more common than anyone had wanted to tell Clariel, and the guards a necessity.