Void's Tale by Christopher Nuttall (best historical fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

them into my cloak.  I could go through the guardsmen like a knife through butter, but that would draw attention.  Whoever had raided the shop after its owner had vanished would know something was wrong.

I sneaked up the stairwell, hurrying to the rear room.  There were no visible guards behind the apothecary, but that was meaningless.  A competent force would post guardsmen covering all possible escape routes.  I heard clumping feet coming up the stairs behind me and knew I didn't have much time.  The bastards had probably already stolen the money from the counter.  I shaped a spell in my mind, then cast a glamour over me.  My voice, when I spoke, sounded just like my paternal grandmother.  She’d never liked me or my brothers.

“How dare you enter a witch’s house?” I boomed.  Magic curved around me, lashing out at the men on the stairs.  “Men, be toads!”

There was a blinding flash of light, followed by outraged croaking and sniggering as the transformed men fell back down the stairs.   Their untransformed fellows were laughing, as if it was funny.  I directed another spell at them, one I’d learnt back at school.  Their legs started to dance of their own accord.  All of a sudden, the joke was a lot less funny.

“Be gone!” I shouted, still in my grandmother’s voice.  I cast a handful of illusions, shadowy images of a female form.  “Leave this place if you want to be men again!”

I threw one final spell, then opened the window and threw myself into the air.  Flying was dangerous when there were other magicians around - I’d learnt it well after I’d left Whitehall - but it was the quickest way to escape.  I flew over the streets, ducking low as soon as I could and landing in an alley.  The guardsmen sounded as if they weren’t sure what to do - it was odd they’d broken into a sorceress’s house without magicians of their own - but I wrapped an invisibility spell around myself as I trudged back to the marketplace.  The travellers would be sleeping.  I hoped that meant I could sneak back to the caravan without being interrupted.  But if I disturbed someone ...

The night still felt dark and fearful.  There was no one on the streets, not even the omnipresent guards.  The sounds from the distant apothecary were fading as my spells wore off.  It would take some time for the guardsmen to work up the nerve to walk back into the shop or report failure to their master.  If they stayed where they were until morning, who knew what would happen?  The magical community might assume the guards were behind the vanishings and start hurling curses at them.

I frowned, doubtfully.  Could the guards be behind the disappearances?  It wasn’t impossible, but I couldn’t think of a motive.  Was it political?  I was pretty sure children weren’t involved in politics.  I could imagine children being taken to put pressure on their families, but why bother when the families weren’t worth the effort?  The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.  It was far more likely that the guardsmen - and their masters - were trying to cover up their own failures.  Unless I was missing something ...

The marketplace rose in front of me.  The travellers had erected dozens of wards, all linked to their caravans.  I pushed through them, frowning as I spotted the statues.  In the gloom, it was easy to believe they were moving when I wasn’t looking.  I told myself not to be silly as I reached Gabby and Juliana’s caravan, then checked the space between the wheels.  My bedding was already waiting.  I grinned - Juliana had made it clear I wouldn’t be sharing the caravan with them at bedtime and I didn’t blame her - and then unrolled it.  There was little more I could do, not until sunlight.  I’d have to visit Mistress Layla’s clients, then try to use her hair to determine if I could find her that way.  And then ...

I had no idea.  I supposed it depended on what I found.  If she’d left willingly ... or not.  If she’d fallen to the darkness ... there were spells and rites, the darkest of the dark, that needed human sacrifice, but I couldn’t think of anything that needed over eighty victims.  No wonder people had started thinking about necromancy.  The other options were actually worse.  And if Mistress Layla was just another victim ... what did that mean?

Someone could have reported her missing, I thought.  Another possible explanation crossed my mind.  The guardsmen - more accurately, their sorcerers - could have searched her house, confiscated her ingredients and then sealed the building until they knew what had happened to her.  And then I triggered an alarm when I broke the wards.

The thought mocked me.  It was a possibility, but ... it made no sense.  The guards would have taken the money.  The guards would have ripped the shop to pieces, just for a few extra coins.  They wouldn’t have left it behind for whoever took over the store.  And I couldn’t believe they hadn’t found the money, either.  They would have known where to look.

I lay down and stared up at the sky.  I’d only been in the town for a few hours and I didn’t like what I was seeing.  Fearful cityfolk.  Professional guardsmen.  Guardsmen who’d invade a sorceress’s house ... which had been emptied, somehow, without anyone noticing.  I didn't know how that could’ve been done, unless they’d teleported in and out of the building.  Even that might have been noticed.  The surge of magic should have brushed against hundreds of wards.

There’s clearly something going on here, I told myself, as I closed my eyes.  Lord Ashworth was right, damn him.  And whatever it is, it isn’t good.

Chapter Five

 

“Hear ye!”  Someone was shouting, so loudly I heard