Threads of Desire (Spellcraft)

Chapter Three

Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts. The rains had come early, drenching everything and leaving behind a wet, miserable heat. Midday in the marketplace was never pleasant, even when you were lucky enough to be able to afford to rent one of the small stalls and owned enough fabric to drape a canopy over your booth. Ily was neither lucky nor rich. Kal, who was both, had bribed the peacekeepers to evict a silversmith’s apprentice who’d set up in the stall directly across from her. The confused man had protested the mistreatment loudly and been cuffed for his efforts by Calef. She didn’t expect to see him back any time soon. Calef was a reasonably effective peacekeeper who had little tolerance for troublemakers even when their only offence was in choosing the wrong stall.

Kal caught her glare, shrugged and sat in the shade while his servants arranged his clearly inferior merchandise. The youngest, little more than a boy, fetched him a goblet of wine and a sweating bowl of chilled grapes.

Everything about him spoke of cool elegance, except his eyes. They were hot and not at all civilized. He smiled and she jerked her gaze down to her work. If she must suffer the sun—and his presence—she would have something tangible to show for it. She wouldn’t remember the feel of his hands on her body. The slow, sure touch that had set her ablaze with embarrassing ease. She would not sit here trembling with shame and want while he watched her squirm.

She turned her attention to the thread spread across her lap in radiating lines connected to a series of spools set directly in front of her. She tested each of the spools to ensure that they would turn freely. When she was satisfied that everything was precisely as it should be, she closed her eyes.

First, the red. Not the sunset color of dried saffron but the bright shock of fresh blood. The icy blue of the snow capped mountains to the north. Green to ground it and a milky cream to soothe the eye. She held the pattern in her thoughts with the practice of long hours of disciplined meditation. The marketplace dropped away, the buzz of noise and the stench of unbathed bodies roasting in the sun. The sensation of the heat faded along with her hunger. The biting flies which had harassed her all morning. And lastly, blessedly, her awareness of her unwanted watcher.

No one would disturb her now. She’d never practiced her art in the marketplace. While she was weaving, she’d be completely exposed, vulnerable amongst strangers. Casting required absolute focus, and the marketplace was loud and dirty. Anything might distract her and destroy the weave. Someone could steal the final product before she’d recovered enough to protect it or herself.

But Kal watched over her today. He would, she knew, prevent others from harming her so why not make use of his intrusive vigilance? Buyers would pay extra for a carpet they’d seen created with their own eyes. They would tell their friends they’d witnessed the weaving. They’d—please the gods—bring others to pay for the spectacle.

The threads caressed her palms as they moved through her hands. Closing her eyes, she offered up a silent prayer that there would be no pulls or snags. These threads...they were all she had left. She’d arranged them carefully before she began, but one could never be certain. If her concentration was broken, there was no way to resume the weave. The cupped shapes that formed the border reminded her of Kal’s goblets and for a second she regretted the fact that she did not have golden thread. Red sufficed. Like the wine.

For a long time she thought of nothing but the colors running through her mind, running now through her fingers, cool and light, collapsing and reforming patterns of bright and dark. A kaleidoscope of perfect beauty. And from that first moment when she let the casting fully claim her until the last thread whipped from her hands, everything was right with the world. She was doing precisely what the gods had created her to do. The magic blossomed inside of her, poured out into the world and left only a deep and solemn peace in its wake.

Far, far too soon, it was over.

Reluctantly—because it always seemed unbearable at the end—she released her hold on the magic. Her body sagged, but her hands clutched the weave tight to her chest. If she’d been alone or at the University, she’d have allowed herself to sink fully to the ground. To let the lingering magic settle like dust after a sandstorm. Right now, the light piercing through her closed eyelids and every noise made by the crowd was an assault to her senses. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t at the University. She was sitting in the middle of the Southton market and she could not afford to be weak.

She gave her other senses a bare moment to adjust to the tumult around her before opening her eyes. A crowd had formed, which was not particularly remarkable. After all, people liked to gape at oddity. What was remarkable was that they’d kept their distance, not crowding her, fingering the rug, threatening to snap her concentration. The circle of people stood a good six feet away—no small feat in the tight lanes of the marketplace. Her gaze came to rest on the person nearest to her, Kal.

Of course. She’d counted on that. His personal servants were a step beyond, holding clubs and glancing every so often at their master.

The rug... She drew a nervous breath and braced herself. It had been such a long time since she’d attempted such an ambitious weaving. The ones she normally sold in the marketplace were made from beggar’s rags that she collected, cleaned and did her best to work into serviceable pieces. She hadn’t created something like this, using silk and true-dyed thread, since she left the University. The collision of memory with the reality of her current state tore something open inside her, and she swallowed the cry that threatened to erupt from her throat.

This rug was a beauty. She’d been half afraid the magic wouldn’t come when she called. Afraid she’d lost some of the skill she’d worked so hard to gain. It had been so long... But she hadn’t lost her talent. A fierce pride shook her body. She hadn’t lost one bit of it.

* * *

Kal didn’t think she realized he was standing there. If she had, even exhausted and stripped bare, he didn’t think she’d allow herself to cry. It tugged at his heart, but he held to his resolve. With Ily, there was too much at stake for softness.

Come now, it’s not so bad.” He meant it as a joke, but in truth she looked stricken. He’d been appalled when she’d begun the weave. The cost of the thread alone... He shook his head. It must have taken her years to gather the money to buy it. Years during which she rented a spot on the floor to sleep and bought barely enough bread to feed a bird. And then to gamble everything here, so openly, where an untimely sneeze could have destroyed the work. He didn’t know whether to applaud or scold that kind of audacity.

She lifted glowing eyes to his and his breath hitched. Her cheeks were tracked with tears. Lovely Ily, so much more so when she wasn’t wound tight as a top and watching her every move. She smiled. “It’s a masterpiece.”

You’re modest.”

A delicate flush touched her cheeks. Beautiful. She dipped her head. “Thank you.”

She was feeling magnanimous else she never would have said it, but he didn’t have the heart to mock her. He merely bowed his head and stepped aside as the first bidder reverently approached.

She was a difficult puzzle. So very stubborn. Proud despite the rags she wore. The stiff set of her shoulders, the lift to her chin. He would need to be as cunning as a cat, as cold as a snake. A small smile pulled at her lips now, letting everyone know—including the man she bartered with—that she would not be taken for a fool.

Kal suppressed his own smile. The little mouse had used him. And when was the last time he’d been outmaneuvered? Or surprised? She’d been annoyed when he’d claimed the tent across from her, but then she’d used the questionable safety his men would provide to work her magic, knowing he would protect her even if she thought he was doing it for his own gain. It was still trust...of a sort. And it was a beginning.

He scanned the square again looking for trouble. It was rare that a weaver would dare work in public. Only the old masters ever attempted it, and the spectacle had drawn considerable attention. Few of the gawkers were serious buyers. His gaze came to rest on the captain of his guard. Rael’s smirk widened to a smile. He’d seen Kal’s expression when Ily had begun her weave and was still laughing. The edge of Kal’s favorite tunic was stained red with the wine he’d choked on.

He started to smile back, but a flash of movement caught his eye. Small hands. A narrow face smudged with dirt. Damn. He lifted his chin and Rael followed the movement, intercepting the thief before he could reach her, signaling his men to find the others.

The children moved in packs. Feral as starving cats and just as vicious. Cassia had no empty beds left at the home, but she’d make room for a few more. Kal would find her more beds if needed.

When he turned back to Ily, she was watching him suspiciously. Half his men were hauling spitting children away. He saw the judgment in her eyes. She thought him so heartless that he’d leave infants to Calef’s untender mercies. That he’d exchange a few words of introduction to the shopkeepers for the use of her body. Who else had she made that offer to? And why was she still here? A master artist. A genuine guild-trained mage hiding in the slums. His informants had spoken true. After today, he wouldn’t be the only one hunting her.

She rose from the ground as stiffly as an old woman but when she began to walk toward him, her head was held high. And while he’d been distracted, she’d concluded her business. The rug was already gone and judging by the size of her purse, she’d driven a hard bargain.

Good.

Unceremoniously, she shoved the money into his hands. It was either take it or drop it and let the crowd swarm as they scrambled for loose coins.

What—”

She was already turning around. “I know exactly how much is in there. I’ll come for it tonight.”