CHAPTER ONE
 
The girl hurried through the street.  Barely any light covered them; only the occasional lantern hanging over a tavern door or slats of illumination peeking between shuttered windows offered oases from the darkness.  Thick clouds covered the sky, trapping in the suffocating heat of the day and shutting out the moon.  The girl tried to walk normally but kept casting nervous glances over her shoulder.  Not far to go now, she told herself.  It wasn't a very dangerous part of East Zabrial but the hour was far too late.  No part of East Zabrial was truly safe at night.  She had lived in the city all her life and it could still frighten her.
She emerged into Cantini Way, looked up and down the street and cursed, her fear mounting a little.  At the end was a right turning into Alstace Avenue, where she lived.  But just before the turning she saw a large group of silhouetted figures milling around a rare street lantern.  Their calls and laughs spilled down the street; all male and all probably drunk.  The girl slowed her pace.  They were probably theoretically harmless, she knew, at least by East Zabrial's standards.  Just a group of louts who had been thrown out of a tavern.  But what exactly was she going to have to put up with, a teenage girl walking past a group of at least ten men sharing a bottle.  A whole barrage of lewd suggestions at the very least.  She really was in no sort of mood for that.  Not after the evening she had just endured. 
An alleyway to her right suddenly caught her eye.  She stopped and considered it.  She knew the streets in this district very well.  That alley, she was almost certain, turned left into another and she could go down that to eventually reach the courtyard where her house stood from the other direction.  She glanced both ways down Cantini Way again.  The drinkers hadn't seen her and nobody else was about.  She stepped into the alley.
The darkness became almost absolute.  She could barely make out the house walls which stood a foot either side of her.  She moved slowly, uncertain how even the ground was, and also breathed through her mouth to avoid the growing stench of garbage and urine.  After a dozen steps she was regretting her choice and her anxiety was fermenting into a barely suppressed panic.  She kept going, however.
Because it was so dark, she didn't even notice the doorway she walked past.  And she didn't notice the two men standing there, waiting for what the night might bring.
 
"Excuse me, sir?"
Jed Colac, who had been giving the tavern a first cautious audit, turned with some irritation.  The doorman, an extremely dark-skinned and extremely large man with a shaven head, leather armour and a cudgel, was looking expectantly at him.
"No weapons allowed inside, sir," the doorman continued in his deep baritone.  "If you wouldn't mind handing over your sword..?"
Jed sighed, but unfastened his sword belt and passed it over.  The doorman put it in a large bucket behind him, which already held a considerable armoury.
"I get that back in any condition other than it's in now…" Jed began to warn, then lost heart.  "Oh, forget it.  Bet you've heard 'em all anyway."
Besides, he decided, he rather approved of the policy.  The tavern lay on East Zabrial's central docks and adhered to the traditions of such establishments.  It was dingy, low-ceilinged, smoky and full of men who, had they been upwardly mobile, might have aspired to being the dregs of society one day.  Shadowy groups clustered around the battered tables, some muttering to one another, some gambling on dice and some just drinking their way towards surly oblivion.  A few looked up as Jed Colac walked in but none seemed very interested.  He scarcely appeared out of place, he knew.  In his late twenties but looking older, he had a haggard and slightly scarred face, weary eyes and straggly brown hair.  He was tall and actually quite slender but seeming plump; close inspection would reveal armour being warn underneath his dark, baggy clothes.  He didn't look altogether very pleasant and was rarely subjected to close inspection.
He continued looking around the tavern until a man sat in one corner gave him a small wave.  Unlike Jed, who had the pale brown skin of a Dorlafan, both men at the table were again very dark in complexion.  One was extremely bulky – not fat, Jed knew – with and oval face and pudgy features, the other was emaciated, small and restless.
"Evening Syran," Jed said to the larger man and indicated the other.  "This the bloke then?"  Syran nodded and Jed turned to him.  "Evening, lad.  My name's Jed Colac.  Here's how it works.  You tell me the truth an' I give you money.  Simple enough?"
The smaller man looked directly at him for the first time.  His eyes, the whites as well as the rims, were scarlet.
"Blimey, you caught it all right," Jed said cheerfully.  He waved his fingers in front of the damaged eyes until the man irritably turned away.
"Piss off with that," he whined.  "I'm sick of everyone doing that.  I can see, all right?  Just not too well yet."
"OK, OK, sorry.  So what happened to you?"
"It was the other night, right?   And me and my mate were just hanging around, not doing any harm to anyone, when-"
Jed sighed.  "OK.  I guess I didn't put across the whole 'tell me the truth' part too well.  Let's back up a bit an' start again…"
 
The men had followed the girl for several steps before she heard them.  She turned and just made out two patches of denser blackness heading towards her.  Instantly she turned back and began to run.  A second later, they pounced.  She made it a short way, then her foot slipped and she stumbled for a fatal second.  A hand grabbed her arm, roughly forcing her round.  She flailed out with her free hand but her wrist was caught in a steel grasp; she kicked forward and only made contact with air.  Meanwhile, the other man had slipped around the struggling pair.  He grasped the girl's arms and forced them behind her back.  That left his companion free to concentrate on her clothing.
She did not scream.  She never screamed.  That gave the man, beneath his intoxicated lust, his first indication that something was wrong.  Instead, as he ripped her coat open, she began muttering something.  It seemed to be a foreign language, full of strange accents, sudden rises and falls.  And it apparently wasn't even being addressed towards her attackers, but was just a speech inside her head being read at random.  The speech began quietly but, as the man was about to pull her blouse apart, built into a piercing crescendo.
Then the dark alley was filled with sudden, searing light.
 
"I dunno how fucking long it lasted," the man continued to whine.  "Probably only a second, but it was so damn bright I couldn't see nothing else for ages.  Me pal neither. We were staggering around like fucking cripples half the night.  Miracle we weren't set on, that's what it was.  Couldn't see anything till half-way through the next day.  I'll probably never see properly again.  But if I meet that little bitch again, I'll see enough.  Fucking wizards.  There ought to be a law."
"There is," Jed said evenly.  "Last time I heard there were one against rape an' all, but hey.  Where can I find this mate of yours?"
"You fuck off," the man returned with sudden venom.  "You think I'm telling you that?  Who the fuck are you anyway?  I tell you now, you anything to do with the Guards and you can kiss my-"  He froze.  Jed had moved his hand under the table and the man was suddenly feeling a sharp object pressing into his belly.  "What's that?" he hissed.
"I were to make an educated guess, I'd say it were a dagger."
"You- You're not supposed to bring weapons in here."
"Aye, I know.  An' if I were you I'd make a stiff complaint to the management.  Security in this place is shocking.  Get what you pay for, I guess.  An' last time I remember, I was paying you for information.  So never mind the sudden coyness, let's here it."  After being supplied with a name and address, Jed continued.  "OK.  An' to save time, I know it were dark till that blinding light came along.  I know you were too busy thinking with your dick to really notice this girl's appearance.  Just a handy vagina for you, right?  Or not, as it turned out.  But as far as you know, what did she look like?"
 
The bell rang and shoals of girls immediately pushed gratefully out of the school gates.  All wore the same uniform; a baggy, pale brown dress which stretched half-way down their shins, a flat and broad-brimmed hat, long socks and solid sandals.  They filled Kaskar Lane in a beige, solid mass and then slowly dispersed in chattering twos and threes.  One pair, walking arm in arm, paused to buy bottles of iced water from a strategically placed stall and then headed for their homes, three streets away.
"Like, I don't know what I was thinking when I took church studies," one of them was groaning.  "I thought it was gonna be like what we get taught in, well, church.  Lots of ever-so hearty exploits as Narlan crushes his enemies.  Who'd have thought he made so many speeches.  You'd think, ocean god, right, there's certain practical problems with that."  Dala Ossasi looked almost indistinguishable from any other sixteen year old Zabric schoolgirl.  She was tall, slim, dark, vivacious, delicately featured and pretty in a slightly androgynous way.  Only her eyes were rather unusual.  Very large, they also had an unfocussed look which gave Dala a (largely) unjustified air of stupidity.
"You want less of the speeches and more of the smitings?" Minyanis Axot giggled.  Though the same age as her friend, Minyanis was very different in appearance.  Small and plump, she had an oval face which, though tanned from the sun, was much paler naturally.  High cheekbones and curved brows flanked narrow, tapering eyes.  Her wide mouth was usually smiling and her generally sunny demeanour created the aura of uncomplicated happiness; again, not necessarily accurate.
"Now, I'm not saying he should smite left, right and centre," Dala protested.  "You know me, I'm all for giving peace a chance.  But sometimes a god's gotta do what a god's gotta do.  And what's with all that manifesting himself that goes on?  Always as the same thing too, a giant man made out of water.  Like, show a bit of originality, man.  God, sorry.  Do you suppose clothes are part of that get-up?"
"Let's see now watery trousers, a little watery hat… It doesn't seem very likely."
"So he'd be naked?  With his you-know-what in full view?  Urgh.  And how solid is the whole set-up likely to be?  If I saw him and a bit of water dripped off the end of his chap, I'd just freak.  Do you think we're being blasphemous talking like this?"
"You are," Minyanis said happily.  "But as I'm not Church of Narlan myself, I'm just being intolerant."
"Cool.  And now we've got to learn yet another Tars Tukas off by heart for History.  I love and respect them all, of course, but you do wish the legends of our city would just shut up once in a while.  Now there's a face I've not seen before," Dala continued without a pause as they turned into the courtyard where they lived.  "And I'd be quite content not ever seeing it again."
The courtyard was surrounded by quiet three-story houses built of amber stone.  Once they had probably looked grandiose but time was gradually diminishing them.  In the centre of the courtyard stood a cluster of trees, dehydrated and also slowly dying.  The compromised grandeur of the scene matched its neighbourhood.  It lay in the southern reaches of East Zabrial, on a gently rising hillside.  It wasn't on the clifftops to the north, where the mansions of the city's elite stood.  Nor, though, was it one of the truly festering districts which comprised the heart of East Zabrial.
The man under scrutiny was broad and plump featured, clad in a dirty, short-sleeved tunic.  He was lying propped against one of the trees with his hat covering his eyes, and he appeared to be asleep.
"I think he looks sweet," Minyanis declared as they studied him from a safe distance.
"That's because you're on heat, Min."
"True.  You want to do anything tonight?"
Dala made a face.  "Chores, chores and more chores is what I will be doing, even after I've finished my date with Mr Tukas.  How about tomorrow?"  They had no school the next day.
"Sure.  If you want, we could meet up with that girl I was talking about."
"Oh, the one who works at the docks?  Yeah, cool."
"She's big and brawny with huge muscles and she's a modern woman with her own career and she's really nice and-"
"Min," Dala interrupted.  "I kind of already agreed."
"Oh.  Sorry," Minyanis giggled.  "When I have a good oratory prepared, I hate to see it wasted."  More seriously and quietly, she added, "You haven't told your parents about the other night have you?"
"The fact I'm not being locked in my room the instant I get home from school should answer that one.  I've not even told them I was out that night, let alone what…"
"You know, Dala, you should talk to someone about it.  There's bound to be, I don't know, a wizard who can be trusted, or if not an actual wizard then-"
"I know, I know," Dala said uncomfortably.  "I will, I promise.  Some time.  But I think I've still got it under control."
"But even so-"
"Min, please."  Dala spoke so plaintively that her friend relented.
"OK.  Sorry.  Meet you here tomorrow about noon-ish?"
"Noon-ish."  And they parted towards their respective homes, which frowned wearily across the courtyard at each other.
 
"I ought to have some suitable words for this sad occasion," Jed declared.  "But all I can come up with is 'Good.'"
He had found the second would-be rapist.  The man was lying on his bed with his hands tied behind his back.  Heavy bruising covered his face and his crimson eyes were wide open.  His head had been bent back at a lethal angle.  Clouds of flies fought for pickings from the body, and steady lines of red ants greedily marched up and down it.
"Don't hang rapists in this city, do you?" Jed continued.  "So, good."
Syran was stood beside him, surveying the body with equal dispassion.  "Maybe another word," he suggested in his deep voice, "Should be 'why?'"
Jed shrugged.  "Here we've got some little turd who lives by picking on helpless victims an' robbing 'em's the kindest thing he does to 'em.  He don't make much of a secret where he lives an' him an' his mate are prone to boasting about what they've been up to.  Only a matter of time before someone's dad caught up to one of 'em."
"You think that's all it was."
"It's the most likely.  Let's not get jumpy before we have to."  He sighed.  "OK.  We ain't got a clue what to look for, but we'd better have a quick nose around to check there's nowt totally bloody obvious."
It didn't take long.  The room, which lay in a decrepit apartment block close to the Gunti Market, was small and poorly furnished.  The dead man had had few belongings and no inclination to tidy them away, simply leaving them scattered across the floor.  Jed picked distastefully through the filthy plates and undergarments, then glanced over his shoulder at Syran.  His partner was carefully examining the body.
"Anything?"
Syran took a closer look at the ropes around the man's wrists.  "Tied his hands up, pushed his head back, broke his neck.  What you'd expect.  Some sort of slime on the ropes."
Jed joined him and touched the rope.  "Any idea what it is?"  He sniffed his finger and flinched at the smell.
"Slime's slime to me."
"Any guess how long he's been like this?"
"Three days?"
"Night after the attack then."  Jed wiped his hand on the bedsheets.  "OK, let's go."
The instant they stepped out into the hall, a door opened and a face glared suspiciously at them.  Jed rounded on it.
"An' what are you bloody looking at?  There's been a dead body lying next door to you for three days.  Garrath, don't you people use your bloody noses?  Let's get back to my place," he said to Syran as they hurried down the stairs.
Jed's 'place' also lay depressingly close to the Gunti Market.  The market itself was a world-renowned trading point for the goods and marvels of two continents; but the district was not a good one.  Nor was the guest house where Jed was staying a good one.  His room enjoyed a view of a brick wall three feet away and, apart from the absence of clutter, looked very similar to the one he had just left.  Jed did not have clutter.  Most of the items he had brought to East Zabrial were carefully stored away in case civic-minded landladies happened to wander into his room.
"I dunno why you couldn't put me up at your place," he complained, splashing his face in a tub of filmy water.
Syran settled easily back onto the bed.  "I told you.  Matters of security."
"Oh, aye.  That old one.  You know, I've got a family of trolls living next door."
"Yes, I noticed them.  They'll be traders from Ellniss.  Harmless.  And you're not supposed to call them trolls."
"Eh?  Oh, right.  The Dwarves who live in the Cities have got like that.  Can't call 'em Dwarves anymore, you've got to call 'em what they call themselves in their own tongue.  Khukalak or summit like that.  Say it wrong an' everyone thinks you've got a throat infection."
"I meant, they aren't technically trolls.  They're oolags.  Similar ancestry but a different species.  Real trolls are ten feet high and wouldn't be welcome in the average guest house.  Even in this city."
"Yeah?  Leave toenail clippings half a yard long, that sort of thing?"
"They've a tendency to eat masonry.  And – what's that other thing?  Oh yes.  People."
Jed leant against the window frame with his arms crossed.  "You live an' learn, I guess.  An' what have we lived an' learnt?  We’ve got a bright flash of light, maybe caused by magic, happening in the neighbourhood which might be the right one.  You overheard two girls talking, sort of hinting that one of 'em's got powers.  And that one sort of fits the semi-description given by a weasily piece of shit who can't even see properly anymore.  Ain't quite good enough is it?  We're gonna have to do a bit more digging."
"It's your call.  But we need to move quickly."
"Aye.  But we've also got to be sure.  This it one of those blow it once, blow it forever deals."
"Maybe quicker than we first thought," Syran persisted.  "If that man wasn't killed by an angry parent.  After tying him up, before breaking his neck, they could have questioned him."
"Yeah, I know."  Jed started wandering around, waving his arms in frustration.  "You know what I'd really like to do.  Get in touch with the dam Elmii an' ask their advice.  Don't suppose you've got that scriving ball, that wondrous device they gave me to communicate with 'em across vast distances in an instant, to bloody work yet?"
Syran shook his head.  "I'll keep trying.  East Zabrial's a tricky place for using magic.  There's too many random forces passing through it.  It makes everything fluctuate."
"Yeah."  Jed gave a short, mirthless laugh.  "An' there's no chance they'd have sent me out with faulty equipment, is there?  Like, that'd be totally out of character for the preparations for this mission."
"Has anyone told you you're a bit cynical?"
"Aye.  Someone on the Elmii told me that once.  An' when wizards think you're too cynical, you get a bit worried."
 
East Zabrial – Gateway To The World.  (It has many more less flattering labels as well.)  Ever since Teraf was first colonised the city has been the chief port linking the continent to Elniss, which lies across the Eastern Ocean.  Great convoys of ships cross the seas twice a year; many more private sailings are made as well.  Rare herbs, fruits, skins and magical artefacts come from Ellniss, manufactured goods and weapons are sent in return by Teraf and countless fortunes have been made through the trade.  The sea also offers East Zabrial, surrounded on all other sides by desert, its easiest method of transportation and the city is the southernmost link of the chain of ports which run up the Christotan post.  East Zabrial's docks spread the whole length of its extensive harbour front.  They stretch from the Psiani Pier in the north to the central Finger of Light to the southern Abal Pier by the Town Council buildings, a great jumble of warehouses, jetties, loading bays, taverns, boat-building yards, counting houses, auction pits and recruiting centres.  They incorporate a vast array of buildings, from the overbearing Tukas Emporium standing by the Finger of Light to endless collections of ramshackle huts of miscellaneous functions.
Dala and Minyanis found Kristin L'rnass in one of the humbler areas.  The gang of hauliers she worked with had spend the morning unloading a battered looking galleon and carrying its goods into a nearby warehouse.  If the girls were hoping for glimpses of exotic Ellniss riches then they were disappointed.  The ship had travelled no further than Denlich on the Dorlafan coast and mainly carried crates of turnips.
"This is pretty exotic by our standards," Kristin told them.  "Most of the time we just get to unload fishing nets.  I see them beasties staring at me in my sleep sometimes."  She was eating her lunch, a glass of beer and a huge collection of bread rolls from a nearby tavern, as they say by the quayside.  Ahead, the huge sweep of Zabrial Bay glittered in the sun.  The rest of Kristin's gang were eating a little way away, a noisy cluster of thickset, half-naked men.
"It must be exciting when the big convoys come in though," Minyanis encouraged.  As usual, she was the more animated one.  Dala, never at ease with strangers, sat quietly by her side.
"Oh, it's a scream.  We work twenty hour shifts for two weeks solid until we're weeping with exhaustion.  Most of the money we earn, we spend it trying to get our strength back after."
"You're not exactly selling this job to us."
Kristin laughed.  "I wouldn't sell it to anyone.  It's a hard life, girls.  Dangerous, back-breaking labour and precious little reward at the end of it.  And I have to put up with that lot hitting on me all the time," she added, indicating her workmates.  Both girls thought that indicated a little desperation on their part. Kristin L'rnass was indeed big and brawny, with a thick net, a powerful chest and muscles rippling up her long arms.  She also had the thick black hair and pointed features of a Kakranfan, although many years in the East Zabric sun had turned her naturally pale skin a light brown.  Her manner was ostensibly open and uncomplicated but Dala remained on her guard.  There was a watchfulness about Kristin, and a suggestion that she was more cunning than she let show.
"But you've made your choice," Minyanis was saying.  "And stuck to it for, eight years is it?  I'd say that was a kudos-worthy situation."
"Thanks.  But I've not a lot of choice with my qualifications.  You stick with your education, girls.  It's the only thing that'll take you forward."
"Oh yes.  For example, in school yesterday we learned that East Zabrial has a patriarchal society where women are barred from all the top jobs," Minyanis said happily.
"You're not from this city are you?"
"Er, that's one of those definition-defining questions.  My parents are from Ellniss and braved, so they keep telling me, all kinds of strange and bizarre terrors before they crossed the ocean.  Whereas I've just lived here, all my life."
"Same here.  My family's from Kakranfé but I've never known anywhere but East Zabrial."
"Great," Dala remarked.  "You're both from ethnic minorities but I'm the only one not born here."  Seeing Kristin's querying glance she explained, "We moved from Port Crabal when I was about five.  Go…" She waved a fist in the air but then stopped.  "Sweet Narlan, I've forgotten how to cheer on Port Crabal."
"Go Compromise?" Minyanis suggested.
"You both live around Alstace Avenue, don't you?" Kristin asked after a slight pause.  "There was a bit of trouble around there the other night, I heard."
"Er, try pretty much every night," Dala said quickly.
"Yeah, but this was different.  Couple of men tried attacking a girl and ended up getting blinded.  The rumours are saying the girl was a wizard."
Dala looked away.  "I heard about that, I think.  Why do you mention it?"
"Just concerned, that's all.  You need to watch your step, girls.  Nowhere seems safe anymore."
"Oh, you don’t need to worry about us," Minyanis said.  "Well, you can worry about me in moderation if you want, but not Dala.  She's-" She broke off hastily.  Dala turned to give her a warning glare and noticed Kristin staring at her inquisitively.
"She's what?" the Kakranfan woman asked.  "What are you, Dala?"
"She's… into self defence," Minyanis extemporised nervously.  "Really, really good at it.  The Way Of The Scorpion, the whole flying fists and feet deal, isn't that right Dala?"
"Bricks into rubble with one blow," Dala confirmed straight-faced.  She then rose.  "We'd better be going, Min.  We've got that thing, remember?"
"Have we?  Oh yes, that thing.  I'm sorry Kristin, but we've got to go and do this thing that needs doing.  If you multiply infinity by something really, really massive," she told Dala as they hurried away from the docks, "You still wouldn't be close to how sorry I am."
"It's OK, Min.  I'm sure no harm was done.  Your backing and filling technique was admirable."
"I think we can trust Kristin anyway.  Unlike certain people whose names begin with 'M', she's not exactly Miss Blabbermouth.  And she's really nice…"
"I know.  I'm sure we can.  But I've got to be so careful, you know?"  Dala sighed.  "She was right.  Nowhere's safe anymore."
 
It was a small, bricked cellar.  Far above lay the streets of East Zabrial, though there was no immediate clue of this.  Normally it stood abandoned and forgotten.  Now, though, five figures were stood on its dusty floor, clustered around a large empty table.  Long grey robes cloaked their bodies and their faces were shrouded with hoods.  For a long time they stood in silence, not apparently acknowledging each another.
Then one gave a small signal and they threw back their hoods.  Each had a vaguely humanoid face but with some porcine characteristics; broad, flared nostrils, thickset red eyes, tusks which protruded up from heavy lower jaws.  Their skins were a dull green, their heads were bald and their ears were long and tapered.  One of the creatures looked older than the others insofar as that could be discerned; the many lines creasing its face were deeper and its movements were slower.  It lay its hands on the table top and, after another gesture from the first creature, began to chant.  Its surprisingly melodic voice echoed around the cellar, an undulating cascade which sometimes incorporated strange, protracted words and sometimes was little more than a keening wail.  The other creatures waited silently.  Eventually the air above the table began to glow.  As the older creature chanted on, the light danced, split and formed itself into a pattern of lines and rectangles.  The chanting abruptly stopped but the shapes still hung there.
"What's this?" the first creature demanded.  Their language was rough and harsh, a guttural collection of growls and grunts.
"What you wanted," the older one replied.  He seemed to have been left exhausted and swayed as he stood.  "Where she is."
The other stared at the pattern.  He knew about humans, had studied them for years.  The way the lines were organised, they could almost be part of a street plan.  "This is in this city?"
"Yes.  Remember it.  I cannot-"
"I need more.  I need her home."
The older creature sighed and closed his eyes.  He began to chant again, more faintly now and under his breath.  For just a second, half of one of the blocks glowed brightly.  "Remember," the creature whispered.  And then the whole pattern vanished and the creature slumped to the ground.
 
Dala shut the door, locked it and, for good measure, shoved a chair under the handle.  Then she focused on the daunting task ahead of her.  The water was boiling over the fire, the materials were all assembled.  She rolled her sleeves up and fastened them in place with bangles.  The kettle was lifted onto the fire and emptied into the tub, and an equal amount of cold water was added.  Then she started working through the enormous pile of washing up.
The Ossasi family were technically middle class; 'comfortable,' although that wasn't always Dala's chosen phrase.  Her father was a middle manager at one of the city's vast trading concerns and brought home a reasonable wage.  Unfortunately her mother, like all respectable married women in East Zabrial, was discouraged from taking paid work.  She compensated, as far as Dala could tell, by bearing an immense number of children.  She had brought ten into the world to date, of which seven were still alive and six were still at home.  The sheer volume put a strain on everything – space, time, resources, tempers.  The Ossasis could only afford to employ two servants, Mrs Ossasi was usually unwell or in confinement and the bulk of the tasks were spread down the generations.  Dala was the second oldest.  For a long time she thought that was a uniquely unfortunate position – old enough to be put upon without garnering any special attention or privileges – until last year when her big sister got married and left home.  Now she had learned what the eldest was forced to do.
She didn't mind, however.  Not truly.  Providing her conditions were met – most revolving around the supply of that elusive resource called privacy – she could endure it.  Plate after plate was immersed in the soapy water, scrubbed clean and untidily stacked beside the sink.  If the endlessly shifting complexities of the household had created a situation whereby she, despite having a huge stack of homework waiting, was the only one who could possibly do the washing up, it could be borne.  After all, such tasks did give her time to think.  And she could once again play a game called resisting temptation.
Because there was no need for her to go through this laborious process.  She could have boiled the water in a second rather than spending the long minutes lighting the fire – but there was no need for water either.  With a little concentration, she could have cleaned the pots in an instant.  She could have dried them and stacked them away, and for an encore cleaned the house from top to bottom, placed mound upon mound of delicious food on her family's table and probably written her history essay too.  They did not have to live in this cramped, slightly decayed house either.  She could create for them a mansion, a palace, ten palaces.  In an second.
Instead she continued to scrub the plates.  Because those who dismissed Dala as a vacuous dreamer – and there were many who did – were only seeing what she cared to show them.  She didn't fully understand her powers, it is true.  She was unaware of all the many technical terms for them beyond the simplest of all: magic.  She had, however, read enough and learned enough to know that nobody can wish anything into existence without consequences.
There were many possible ones but the most pertinent for Dala was the risk of the Academy of Magic detecting her.  This great institution tries to control magic all across the continent of Teraf.  It has spies everywhere – especially in an eclectic city like East Zabrial.  It demands that all those born with magical powers – the so-called Gift of the Gods – travel to its base in northern Erenland, hundreds of miles from East Zabrial, and submit to its decade-long training programme.  What the Academy and its enforcers, the 'recruiters,' do to those who disobey them does not bear thinking about.  On sleepless nights Dala did think about , because she had no intention of complying with Academy rules.  Erenland was alleged to be the dreariest place on earth, wizards were said to emerge from their training with all traces of humanity bled out of them; and besides, she could not leave her friends, her family, her future behind.  She wasn't going to let a few powers map out her entire life.  If she could control them – and she was almost certain that she could then nobody need know any different.  She had told Minyanis about them because she told Minyanis about everything.  Her family, the rest of her neighbourhood; they had a few strange incidents over the years to puzzle over when matters slipped a little out of hand but no inkling of what Dala was.  It was working.  She was almost sure it was working.
Sometimes, though, she wondered if her powers had charted her course anyway.  They had been with her for as long as she could remember, but she first became truly aware of what they constituted when she was ten.  Ever since then she had been secretive, withdrawn, always giving the impression of holding something in reserve.  Her teachers all found her intelligent but somehow difficult to engage, never wholly there at lessons.  Half considered her a challenge, the others just concluded she was lazy.  Her headmistress, Dala knew, had noticed how swirls of trouble tended to follow her and kept a suspicious eye on her.  And Dala also aware of her habit of drifting through life as if it were of only marginal importance.  She had also heard rumours of what properly trained wizards could do; summon up demons and elementals, open portals to strange knew dimensions.  Sometimes her world would grow almost too flat or exasperating to bear and she wondered if it might be worth it.
Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a furious argument from outside.  One, no two female voices and one male; one was her mother and another was… Dala sighed and began drying her hands.  Yes, it might just be worth it.  Anything else seemed worth the price on occasions, so long as it would get her out of East Zabrial.  She unsealed the kitchen and stormed towards the front door.
Her mother was stood on the threshold, holding her youngest child who was just starting to wail with all the noise.  Liberally exchanging insults with the lady, being barred from entry by her ample figure, was Ellik.  A youth slightly older than Dala, she had once thought his slim build, very dark features and floppy mane of black hair made him appear enticingly mysterious.  Several months later she thought he looked hateful; and now, twitching with impotent anger, he just seemed laughable.
"Dala!" he cried, spying her appearing around her mother.  His face instantly lit up hopefully.  "Dala, I've got to talk to you-"
"For Narlan's sake, Ellik," she snapped back.  To her amazement she noticed Kristin standing just behind Ellik.  The elder woman was hovering uncertainly, as if debating whether to intervene in the scene.  Dala turned her attention back to Ellik.  "Do you not get how this works?  I've finished with you.  Therefore, we don't see each other again.  What part don't you understand?"
"Dala, I wasn't sure what to do," Mrs Ossasi said anxiously.  "I know you said you didn't want to see him but he is your boyfriend-"
"Was, mum.  As in, past tense."
"Look Dala, I'm sorry, all right?  I know I made a mistake.  But I want us back together again-"
"Well, big whoop.  The point being, and I hope you're following this, that I don't.  Not now, not tomorrow, and though you might stand a chance when the sun falls into the sea, I really wouldn't-"
"You can't fucking treat me like this!" Ellik suddenly screamed, and seemed to be about to leap forward.  Abruptly, though, he stopped.  Kristin had laid one hand on his shoulder and took hold of his arm with the other.  Ellik squirmed in the grip but it appeared to be unbreakable.
"All right, sonny," Kristin said calmly as she manoeuvred the struggling boy away.  "Let's just take a few breaths and calm down, yes?"
"Get the hell off me!  I'll-"  A hard shove from Kristin sent him floundering several steps across the courtyard.  He wheeled round, face furious and ready to spring.  One look at Kristin tensed form convinced him otherwise.  "You can't treat me like this you whore!" he yelled instead at Dala.  Her only response was to roll her eyes.  "I'll tell everyone what you're like.  I'll-"  And then two steps forward from Kristin sent him skipping fearfully away.
"Oh, please," Dala said when he had gone.  "Mum, if I ever start falling for someone like that ever again, could you please lock me in the cellar?"
"Dala darling, you always fall for boys like that."
"Way to go, Kristin," Dala called out as the docker approached, looking bashful again.  "As smart a piece of bouncing as I've seen."
"Yes, thank you… Kristin was it?" Mrs Ossasi said nervously, jiggling her howling baby in her arms.  "Can you excuse me please?  I'd better put him to bed.  This has been a bit… Dala…"
"I know.  sorry.  My mum," she announced when the lady had hurried indoors.  "She's a bit highly strung.  Which is no surprise.  That's her tenth she's carrying and there's another one on the day.  We learned at school where babies come from but I'm not convinced in her case.  I think she must have a machine in the attic where she churns 'em out."
Kristin leaned against the door frame, shielding her eyes against the sun.  "I don't think she likes me."
"She doesn't actually dislike anyone.  You threw her, that's all.  She's a firm view on a woman's role in life and none of it involves turfing boys out by the scruff of their ears.  Thanks again for that, by the way."
Kristin grunted her acknowledgement.  "If you don't mind me saying… weren't you a bit hard on him?"
"Let's see now.  I was going out with Ellik for three months.  The other week I found out he was also going out with someone else, a girl I happened to think was my friend, for two of those months.  And for a couple of weeks he managed the difficult but commendable feat of cheating on both of us.  I think a touch of flinty-hearted disdain is only seemly, don't you?"
"Shit."  Kristin looked at her with concern but Dala was gazing into the distance with her slightly expression.  "Sorry.  Are you all right about it?"
"Oh, I've had the usual anguish, self-loathing, loneliness… Pretty much worked through them all though.  Well, sort of.  I guess I'll be fine in time.  You're probably right though.  I shouldn't wind him up like that.  You might not be around to rescue me next time."
"You'll probably be OK.  With all those self-defence classes and everything."
Dala snapped her attention back.  She gave Kristin a slightly suspicious glance but failed to detect anything.  "Oh yes.  Them.  Not that I'm complaining but how did you manage to show up anyway?  Do you live around here?"
"Sort of near here," the Kakranfan said vaguely.  "I just came to see Minyanis."
"Oh, right.  Cool.  I'll come across with you if that's OK.  She'll want a full account of what's just happened.  A girl who likes keeping up with neighbourhood gossip, Min."
 
"So what've we got?" Jed asked.  "A fire which showed every sign of preparing to gut Alstace Avenue like a fish suddenly went out for no good reason.  That was two years ago.  A couple of years earlier, the typhoid epidemic sweeping through the city did a mighty suspicious detour around the whole neighbourhood.  Year before that, a boy run over by a cart in Cantini Way who weren't expected to live made an amazing recovery.  After being held in the arms of a young girl who lives locally.  Same girl, far as anyone can tell, who was seen striding towards the fire just before it went out.  Same girl seen who, a good while ago, was seen near a building which miraculously didn't collapse till all the family living in it got out.  Same girl who's a friend of, whoosit, that Ellniss lass.  Minyanis something.  Who was nearly beaten up by a bunch of street kids last year, only to be rescued by a bright flash of light not unlike the one that blinded our rapists.  The rapists whose sort-of description sort of matches that girl again."
"Dala Ossasi," Syran said quietly.
"Ladies an' gentlemen, we have a winner," Jed nodded, lazily stretching his legs.  They were sat at a table outside Jed's tavern, enjoying the early evening sunshine and watching the busy flow of Lelgar Street.  "Probably," he added.
"Are any of the neighbours suspicious?"
"What of?  Unless you're looking for summit, there's now to see.  It's just a bunch of stuff that's happened over a long stretch of time.  An' our girl always happening to be nearby.  Some think it's a bit weird but, hey, that's what you get living in this city."
"She's been careful then."
"Oh aye," Jed smiled.  "An all the weird stuff's happened for the better, not the worst.  Average wizard first gets their powers, they get up to all kinds of stuff.  Good, bad or just plain silly, owt that'd let them test what they've suddenly got.  All kinds of hell goes on.  This one only ever helped people, even when she was pretty young.  That's one thing the Elmii told me to watch out for."
Syran sipped his drink, a strong peppermint flavoured liquor.  "And did anyone find it suspicious that you were interrogating them about neighbourhood history?"
"Naw.  I gave a cover story.  Said I was working for the Academy.  Investing a dangerous build-up of background magic which might be behind all these odd events they've been having."
After a while, Syran carefully said, "I see.  Tat was an interesting and possibly suicidal approach."
"Got 'em talking though.  Soon as they realised there was someone they could blame i.e. me, there was no holding 'em back.  Besides, I was pretty much a marked man whatever I said wasn't I?"  He sighed theatrically.  "Wonderful city this.  You welcome Nisans, Erish, Elves, Dwarves, Kakranfans an' pixies with open arms.  You happily rent rooms to trolls – sorry, oolags.  You don't even have that much problem with wizards.  But anyone who looks a little bit Dorlafan, boy he'd better watch his step."
Syran surveyed his companion, wondering how the pale brown skin, lank brown hair, green eyes, open and garrulously mouth and impeccably flat Triple Cities accent could possibly be construed as 'a little bit' Dorlafan.  "Oh, all right Mr Gruspoth," Jed called out cheerfully.
The figure addressed stopped by the door and gave a shy wave.  He was barely more than four feet tall and almost as broad.  His curiously gnarled face was dominated by an immense nose, which reared out many inches and then dropped down almost as far as his broad mouth.  A pointed chin, pale green skin and almost perfectly round red eyes completed the outlandish appearance.  The rest of his body may have been equally transfixing but it was wrapped in a black, baggy hooded suit.
"Good afternoon Mr Colac," the creature said.  He had an appropriately nasal accent but spoke meticulously and formally.  "I hope you are well."
"Just terrible, thanks for asking.  Mind you, you're spot on about the oolags," Jed told Syran after Mr Gruspoth had gone indoors.  "Good family that, once you get to know 'em.  They've lent me their mangle.  An' speaking of vital pieces of equipment, I don't suppose you've got the scriving mirrors working yet?"
"I have."
"Yeah?  So did you contact the Elmii?"
"Last night.  They advised you to trust your judgement."
"And?"
"That's it.  The message was completed.  That's all there was.  Trust your judgement."
Jed stared into space for a while with strange expressions flitting across his face.  Eventually he lightly remarked, "You know that us Dorlafans have a reputation for letting off long, elaborately sarcastic tirades on the slightest excuse."
"Yes."
"Yet, despite being offered the severest provocation, I'm saying nowt.  You notice that?"
"Yes."
"I just wanted it recorded.  OK, here's one part of my judgement.  There's a big Kakranfan piece hanging around our girl an' she's making me nervous."
"I've seen her too.  I don't know who she is."
"I've got my suspicions.  You still got your key to the Academy's East Zabrial base?"
Syran frowned.  "I've still got a friend there-"
"That's what I meant.  Have a talk with him.  See if they've got any Kakranfans on the retinue.  By tonight if you can."  Syran looked at him in surprise.  "I mean it.  I'm fed up with faffing around.  If the Elmii wanted a considered, thoughtful job doing, they should have hired something better than me an' my bloody judgement."
 
"Dala!  You up there, Dala?"
Dala rolled across her bed and peered out of her bedroom window.  "Oh, good," she muttered.
"Who is it?" Minyanis asked, slumped into an old chair with a folder balanced on her lap.
"Well, let's see now.  It couldn't possibly be Ellik 'turn over a new chapter and start life afresh I don't think' Acci could it?"  She moved a little way away from the windows but continued peering around the curtains.  "Time for round two it seems."
"Maybe if we ignore him he'll go away?"
They waited a few minutes.  Cries of "Dala!" continued to bellow up from the street.  "OK," their target remarked.  "Nice idea in theory, Min, but it seems-"  She abruptly flung the window open.  "Ellik!" she screamed down at the young man stood just beneath it.  "Go home!"
"Not till I've had my say, Dala," he flung furiously up.  Dala noticed other windows in the courtyard opening and censorious faces peering out into the courtyard.  "You listen to me.  We're through, you got that?"
"What does he want?" Minyanis asked nervously.
"Apparently he's packing me."
"But haven't you already..?"
"Ellik, I know we're through.  I keep trying to tell you that.  I'm the one who packed you, remember?"
"Yeah, well, there's no fucking going back now.  I've had it with you.  And tell your big dyke friend to leave me alone as well."
Dala watched him storm off.  "Well," she said neutrally, "That was bracing.  And that's the 'mindless abuse' section of the evening taken care of.  What shall we do now?"
"Call me Miss Unorginality," was Minyanis' cautious response.  "But as this is a study evening, possibly we could try a little… studying?"
Dala picked her books up and tried reapplying herself to Christotan History 1000-50.  It was hard, though.  Almost uniquely, her house was otherwise deserted.  It was the night of their monthly visit to her grandmother's house on the other side of East Zabrial, an excursion which involved the whole sprawling family being picked up and deposited in a great clump.  For once Dala had talked her way out of it, pleading upcoming exams.  The exams were real but she found concentration even more difficult than usual.  All around her, where the house usually stirred with dozens of conversations, arguments, wails, collisions and footsteps well into the night, there was only silence.  She found it a little unsettling; above all else, though, it was liberating.  The house was hers and it seemed a shame to confine herself to one small part of it like always.
"I'm going to fry something," she announced suddenly, tossing her book aside.  "Coming?"
"What are you going to-"
"Depends what I find.  come on, just ten minutes frying break.  We'll return to the books replenished and sloshing with strengthening fat.  Do you suppose he meant Kristin?" she asked as she poked around a half-lit kitchen.
"Who?"
"Ellik.  He said he was being hassled by 'a big dyke,' to use his charming phrase, and it was my fault.  I wondered if he meant Kristin."  She found two half-fishes in the larder, sniffed them suspiciously, shrugged and began heating the fat.
"I wonder say…" Minyanis shifted uneasily.  "That is, I wouldn't necessarily say that Kristin's a…"
"I know.  I'm not saying she is.  But if you've got a mentality like Ellik's, you'd assume she was."  Dala threw the fish into the pan and added lightly, "And if it is her, that's maybe a bit strange.  Has she been to see him after the day she threw him out?  If so, why?"
"It might not be-"
"You might be right.  But something strange is going on, Min.  There was your big fancy-man hanging around for a while.  And then that Dorlafan who said he was from the Academy, asking questions about me."
"He wasn't asking about you, Dala."
"Just about all the things I'd done, right?"
"But we don't-" Minyanis broke off, sharply turning her head.  "Did you just hear something?"
Dala laughed nervously.  "Stop trying to scare me, Min.  Right now it's all too easy."
"No, I'm serious.  Something… outside."  She slowly moved towards the back door, which led directly to the yard outside.  Dala lifted the frying pan off the flames and stared at the door.
"It'll be a cat.  Won't it?"
"Oh, sure.   Of course it'll be a cat.  A lovely, fluffy stray cat.  And we'll let it in and make friends with it and give it our fish, because I for one have lost my appetite."  Minyanis' voice had grown high and brittle.  She reached the door and took hold of the handle.
"Min, this kitchen's full of knives.  Do you not want-" but then Minyanis flung the door open.
The yard was intensely dark; night descends quickly in East Zabrial.  It was also, apparently, empty.  Minyanis gave a long, hysterical giggle.
"Not even a cat," she trilled, turning back.  "I guess it must have been the non-existent wind knocking over one of your non-existent flower pots."
Dala was already kicking over the embers of the fire.  "All right.  I've been creeped out enough for one evening.  How about we go over to your place to get bothered to hell by your mother, pestered by your brother and-"
"I was just thinking the same thing."  Without looking back round, Minyanis tried to swing the door shut.  Just before closing, though, it hit something.  She turned and saw that a boot had been inserted in the crack.  A second later the door was wrenched open.  Jed Colac stood in the doorway.
Both girls screamed.  Minyanis ran towards Dala as Jed advanced several steps into the kitchen.  He winced at the noise they made and began waving his hands frantically.
"Look, just bloody calm down will you?" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the screams.  "It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm on your side.  Just listen to me."  Clinging tightly to each other, the girls fell silent and watched the intruder with petrified eyes.  "I've been sent to protect you, all right?" Jed continued urgently.  "And I'm sorry about barging in an' scaring you to death but I had to move quickly an' quietly because you're in danger.  An' I'm also sorry about the way I look.  I know I ain't exactly a reassuring figure.  Believe me, it weren't supposed to be like this.  You were supposed to be prepared from birth an' there'd always be someone watching out for you.  An' there'd be some great ceremony when you turned sixteen when you'd get given some bloody great golden key or summit, an' basically there'd be the works."  His address was directed at Dala.  While it went on, she very slowly detached herself from Minyanis and reached the stove.  "Least, that was how the all-knowing, all-powerful blokes I work for planned it," an oblivious Jed went on.  "Only a few months back they announced, whoops, we got our bloody sums wrong, the girl got herself born twenty years before she thought she would.  So I get packed onto a very quick horse and the ceremony pretty much amounts to this."  He cleared his throat.  "Dala Ossasi?  You-"
At that point Dala threw the frying pan at him.  Jed flung himself to one side and collided heavily with a work unit.  Dala was already turning and running for the other door, dragging Minyanis with her.  They scrambled through it and slammed it shut as a Jed lurched after them.  The girls scampered desperately through the darkened hallways, knocking into doors and tables.  Behind them they could hear the echo of Jed's heavy footsteps.  After what seemed like an eternity, they saw the glass pane of the front door gleaming in front of them.  And then that burst open and Syran's bulk stood in front of them.
Minyanis screamed again.  Dala was already dragging them through a doorway to their left.  It brought them into the sitting room, which was illuminated by a single hanging lantern.  Minyanis shut the door and leaned on it until Dala pushed a couch in front of it.  Shaking, they took a few steps back and waited.  The first assault scraped the couch half a foot across the floor.  Minyanis was already scanning the room but they had blockaded the only door out.
"The windows!  Quick!" she urged, but Dala, still staring at the door, shook her head.
"They don't open.  Father thought that'd be more, ha, security conscious."
The door was pushed inexorably open.  Jed spilled into the room, shouting "Wait there," over his shoulder to Syran.  The girls shrank back into one corner as he advanced on them.
"Whatever it is you don't want us to do, we'll stop doing it," Minyanis pleaded.  "And take whatever you want, only not us as hostages, because our families really aren't all that rich-"
"For the last time, I'm not here to hurt you.  Just calm down a minute an' I'll explain…" He stared at Dala, who had begun reciting a stream of strange words under her breath.  "An' you might as well stop that an' all.  It won't do any good.  If you'd just-"
Dala's voice grew to a shriek.  Chanting the last few words, she dramatically gesticulated at Jed.  There was just the tiniest glitter of light around her fingertip; and then it died away.  Dala's mouth dropped open.  She stared in disbelief at her finger, utterly at a loss as to what had happened.  Even when Minyanis began frantically tugging at her sleeve she continued gaping idiotically down.
"Dala!  Oh Gods, Dala, he's got a – You've got a neutraliser haven't you?" Minyanis accused Jed.
"Well, yeah.  But don't-"
"Dala, you know the only people who've got neutralisers.  Recruiters!  He's a recruiter for the Academy."
Dala finally looked up at Jed.  "Is that true?" she asked flatly.  "Are you with the Academy?"
"No!" Jed protested, then paused.  "Well, yes and no.  It's sort of complicated-"
"You're not taking me back there.  Do what you want with me but I'm not going-"
"I never even wanted to take you to the Academy's bloody campus.  Will you two just listen to me.  Ye gods, they say us Dorlafans are gabby but you two-"
Two noises from the doorway made them all turn.  With one solid thump Syran had been knocked on the back of the head, and with another he hit the floor unconscious.  Standing in his place was Kristin.  She held a loaded crossbow and was pointing it at Jed.
"Put your hands up," she ordered.  "Move away from them."
He obeyed very slowly and carefully, not taking his eyes off her.  The two girls fled to the sanctity of the Kakranfan woman.
"Are you OK?" she asked, then without waiting for a reply told Jed, "Picked the wrong target this time."
"Weren't me who picked it," he answered grimly.
"Oh yes?  You're just a servant of your masters I suppose."
"You and me both, I'm guessing."
"It's not good enough."
Dala and Minyanis exchanged glances.  Their relief at their rescue was quickly being replaced by a new, different kind of horror.  Kristin's attitude was strange and she seemed to be rushing towards one course…
"Er, Kristin," Minyanis ventured meekly.  "Maybe now's the time when we start throwing him out and locking doors..?"
"There'll be other agents.  But I suppose one less won't hurt," Kristin said, apparently to herself, and Jed continued staring at her.
"Actually, right now there's pretty much only me," he said.
"That'll make it easier then."
"Or were you talking about yourself?"
Again Dala and Minyanis looked at one another, mutely sharing the same though.  When Dala turned back to Kristin, she saw her finger tightening on the crossbow trigger.
"No!" she screamed, leaping at Kristin.  She collided into her the very second the crossbow fired.  The bolt whistled through the air, missed Jed by several feet and buried itself into the far wall.  Jed instantly rushed forward; Kristin cursed and pushed Dala aside.  As Jed sprung at her she swung the crossbow, catching him in the face with the weapon's heavy crosspiece.  The Dorlafan collapsed backwards, rolled twice on the ground and lay still.  Kristin glared at him briefly, then turned on Dala.
"You stupid- what are you doing?"
"Kristin, you can't just shoot someone in cold blood," Dala returned with equal heat.  "That's not done, OK?"
"You know what he'd do to you?  You can't show these people any people.  I was trying to protect you."
"I don't need anyone protecting me that way."
"Er, I'm kind of on Dala's side here," Minyanis interrupted.  "But I'm really of the school which says we get out of here now."
Kristin took another look around the room.  Both men were still apparently unconscious.  "All right," she breathed.  "But follow me and do what I say from now on.  And we might just get through this."
She led them out of the house and out of their neighbourhood.  Soon they were both badly lost.  By day they might have recognised the streets around them, but they were discouraged from visiting them by night and they could now see why.  They were heading towards the docks and the whole city seemed alive with danger.  Groups of drinkers staggered from one dingy tavern to the next, felonious looking street vendors lurked behind their braziers and prostitutes stridently touted for business on the corners.  Here and there a heavily shrouded figure would stalk, intent on some sinister purpose of his own.  Unconsciously both girls huddled closer to Kristin, who was striding boldly down the pavement and grimly ignoring the lewd remarks flung at them.
"Er, Kristin?" Minyanis asked as they entered yet another ill-lit, foreboding lane.  "Where are we going?"
"My place.  It's not much further now."
"Erm.  Wouldn't it be an idea to kind of tell the Guards?  I'm only thinking about those two men lying in Dala's house and when Dala's family might-"
"I'll deal with that later.  Your family's not at risk," she told Dala.  "Only you are.  The priority's to get you safe."
"On that note," Dala said in a shaky voice, "I know I'm Miss Jumpy Queen right now, but I can't help feeling we're being followed."
They all looked around, saw nothing but increased their pace nonetheless.  "Sort of footsteps just behind us, stopping when we do," Dala continued, perhaps unnecessarily.
"Oh, wouldn't it have been nice if just one of us thought to tie those men up?" Minyanis trilled.
"Not much further now," Kristin repeated.  She turned them right into an almost pitch-black alley. "Watch your footing here," her voice warned as they proceeded cautiously.  "I'm at the end."  After a mercifully short distance, a looming black tenement reared up in front of them.  Kristin produced a bunch of keys and fumbled one into the lock.  "I'm on the ground floor," she said as they shepherded them into a dark hallway.  "Wait here a second.  I'll just-"
She turned and took a few steps away from the door.  The girls lost sight of her.  A second later came the sound of running feet and a strange, scuffling noise.  Then silence descended again.  Too terrified to even move, to even breathe, the girls strained their eyes peering into the consuming night.  The tension became unbearable.  Then a black shape, just visible amidst the monochrome patterns, appeared in the doorway.  The door slammed shut.  From the shape came several sharp, rasping sounds and a too-brief splutter of light.
"Kristin?" Dala finally found the courage to ask, and then only in a whisper.
The light flared again.  This time the tinderbox taper caught and was pushed against a candle wick.  But the figure holding it was not Kristin; it was Jed.
"Now just listen to me this time," he shouted, while the girls froze in shock.  "An' try an' take this in.  I ain't here to hurt you or do owt to you.  I'm here to help you.  I ain't with the Academy, least not the Academy how you understand it.  And I'm not, I repeat not, a bloody recruiter.  I've just got a neutraliser 'cause of the work I do, but that's not recruiting."
"What have you done with Kristin?" Dala demanded.  A little of her terror had left her and anger was taking its place.
"Just put her out of-"  The door shuddered to a sudden buffet.  "Ah, that'll be her now.  Shame these doors can be bolted as well as locked.  An' it's funny you mentioning her straight after I mentioned recruiters 'cause that's another thing I've got to tell you.  She damn well is one.  I did checks an' everything."
"Wh-" Dala gaped at him.  "Have you lost your mind?  Kristin's our friend.  Min, she's your friend, tell him."
"She made herself your friend maybe.  That's the way they work sometimes."
"Shut up!  Min?"
"Oh Gods," Minyanis whispered in horror.  "He could actually be right.  Kristin did befriend me first.  And she did seem awfully interested in, well, you, and kept hanging around here.  And she seemed awfully keen to shoot this man in cold blood."
"Thanks for the intervention, by the way," Jed interjected and Dala whirled back on him.
"And every time you but in, I ask myself why I bothered."
"You know why," he told her calmly.  "You couldn't just stand by and watch someone get killed.  No-one normal could, specially not you.  But a recruiter could an' they'd do it themsens if someone got in their way.  Summit in their training.  Or their water, whatever.  Look, if you still don't believe me…"  He reached over his head and pulled off a pendant hanging around his neck.  It was a small metal droplet glowing a dim, slightly disturbing light.  Jed ran his hand over it, spoke a word and the glow died.  "OK, this is my neutraliser.  An' I've just deactivated it."  He tossed it to Minyanis and quickly warned Dala, "Don't you touch it.  Even when it's switched off-"
Dala continued to glare at him.  "Oh, so I'm just supposed to believe-"
"Ye Gods, what is it with you girls.  Healthy suspicions are fine but sooner or later you're gonna have to trust someone, an' that someone's me.  Otherwise this is gonna get a lot worst."
"Dala, I think he's telling the truth," Minyanis said urgently, examining the droplet.  "I know a bit about neutralisers and this looks deactivated."
Dala turned to her.  "How on earth do you know about-"
"Don't look so surprised.  I do have depths you know."  After an uneasy moment she amended, "All right, I have unhealthy obsessions.  Be that as it may, this looks right."
"All right," Dala said to Jed.  "So what?"
"Only recruiters have these gizmos, right?  As a rule.  So get your mate Kristin in here, try an' cast a spell an' see what happens.  Then ask her what she might have tucked away."
Dala continued staring at him for another second.  Then several things happened in quick succession.  The hinges of the front door finally gave way.  Kristin hauled the shattered door out of her path and took several steps into the hallway.  As Jed turned and skipped back, a shadow seemed to loom up behind the Kakranfan woman.  Then a grey, robed shape flung itself out of the darkness and landed on her, pulling her to the ground.  Another appeared in the doorway.  t pushed its hood back and a green-skinned face peered in.
Jed swore and scrambled further back, putting his body between the creature and the two girls.  Behind him, Dala stretched out her arm and screamed a few words.  Again, though, there was just a brief glitter which died inches from her fingertips.  The creature spoke some foreign, guttural words of its own over its shoulder and advanced.  Another appeared in its wake.  A crash behind them made the human trio turn.  Three more of the creatures were rushing up the hall towards them, their robes flapping as they ran.
With a muffled thump Kristin freed herself from her assailant, leaving it sprawled motionless on the ground.  She sprang to her feet and dived towards a closed inner door.  There were a few agonising seconds as she fumbled for the key, then the door swung open.
"In!  Quick!" she screamed.  Jed pushed the two girls into the dark room beyond.  As the first of the creatures sprang at him he lashed out a boot, catching it in the chest and sending it sprawling back.  Then he dived in himself, slammed the door shut and leant on it.
"Lock it," Kristin breathed, pushing the key into his hands.
"Where are we?" Dala's terrified voice whispered through the blackness.
"My flat.  I'll just…"  A match flared and Kristin lit a lantern, holding it in slightly shaking hands.  It illuminated a small, spartan room.  "I don't think that door'll hold long."  The first assault on it almost broke it completely and came close to knocking Jed over.
"Thanks for the tip, lass," he muttered.
"What- what were those things?" Dala breathed.
"Orcs," Jed and Kristin said together.  Jed continued alone.  "An' you want to know what they're after, my guess is you."
"What?  They're after me as well?"
"Popular girl ain't you?  What have you got left?" he asked Kristin.
"Sword.  I dropped my crossbow."
"I've got a dagger in me boot.  I'm guessing our mates have got swords at least."  At that moment a blade plunged through the door, the tip sticking out about an inch from Jed's head.  It stayed there for a moment before withdrawing.  "They've got swords," he confirmed.
Kristin looked around wildly.  "The window," she ordered.  She took a single step towards it before the pane shattered and a green-skinned face peeked in with a grunt.  Kristin didn't hesitate.  She picked up the heavy mattress which lay in the centre of the room and flung it over the window.
"Guess they thought of the window," Jed said.
"I don't understand," Kristin panted as she leant on the mattress.  "Orc don't… don't attack houses.  Not like this.  Not down here.  It's…"
"Can't we talked to them?"  That was Minyanis' falsetto voice.  "Isn't there-"
"Bloody hell, don't any of you understand what's going on?" Jed yelled.  "They do attack houses now an' we can't talk to them.  'Cause they want Dala.  You got that?  They want Dala an' they ain't going away till they've got her.  An' any of you ask what they want her for an' I'm gonna lose it.  Now listen to me an' you, Kakranfan, listen especially carefully.  There's at least five of them an' two of us who can fight.  They're armed to the teeth an' we're pretty much armed with our teeth.  The one person who can get us out of this is Dala.  But she can't do a thing while you've got your damn neutraliser switched on."
"No," Kristin said instantly.  "Not a chance."
"How's your mattress holding up.  My door's pretty close to being matchsticks."
The mattress was clearly being pushed from the other side of the window.  But Kristin held it in place with all her strength and still shook her head.  "No way.  Under no circumstances can we-"
"Are you not listening to me?  This ain't summit covered in your damn recruiters manual.  This ain't summit you've ever dealt with before.  An' unless that neutraliser goes off, a lot more lives'll be lost than the four in here."
Dala took a step forward.  "I…" she began uncertainly.  "I'm not sure I'd know what to do even if-"
"Don't start with me.  You know exactly what to do, how far to go an' when to stop.  It's in your bones, lass."
"Who are you anyway?" Kristin snapped at Jed.  "Why have you got the answers."
"'Cause I'm the one trained to deal with this, OK?  An' I know this ain't one case where, if you've got a choice between a dead wizard an' a rogue wizard, you can shrug an' choose the dead wizard.  This is a damn sight more serious."
Kristin stared at him a moment longer.  Then she looked at Dala.  At first she saw an ordinary teenage girl; terrified, bedraggled, barely under control.  But then she noticed something different about her, a certainty in her poise perhaps, which made her hesitate.  Then Dala turned towards her.  Again, there was simple fear n her eyes and a different message behind it.  A conviction which clearly stated: trust me.
"You even know what's happening here?" Kristin asked the girl.
"No.  But I think Jed's right.  I know what to do about it."
Kristin considered her a moment longer, then muttered, "Oh hell."  And she reached into her tunic, produced a droplet identical to the one Jed wore and deactivated it.
"Over to you then," Jed nodded at Dala.  Another blow buffeted the door and he struggled to keep his balance.
"All right."  Dala closed her eyes for a moment.  She frowned and her voice was still hesitant.  "When I say 'now,' get away from the door.  I… I hope this will…"
Minyanis took her hand momentarily and gave her a quick smile.  "It'll work.  Go get 'em, Dala."
Dala smiled back at her friend and tried to compose herself.  "Ready?" she asked Jed, who nodded rather desperately.  "All right.  Now!"
Jed dived sideways.  An instant later the door exploded inwards, knocked off its hinged and crashing to the ground.  In its wake a squat, powerfully built orc floundered a couple of steps into the room.  It glanced around, noticed Dala and took another step towards her.  Three more of the creatures were directly behind it.  Then Dala screamed another string of strange words and swung her right arm up to point at the orc.  A bolt of what looked like pure light flashed from her fingers.  It hit the creature in the chest, picking it up and flinging it through the air.  The orc bowled over its companions and did not stop until it hit the far wall of the hallway outside.  As one of the other orcs started scrambling up, another bolt of light flashed inches over its head and hit a wall, cracking the stonework.  All stared petrified at Dala.  The girl was utterly transformed.  All fear and uncertainty had left her; she was standing bolt upright, her eyes flashing and her arm pointing menacingly.  Still she chanted in an unearthly voice which rose and fell as it emitted its strange words.  When she rose her hand again the glow consumed it but was motionless, hanging ominously until its release.  That was enough for the orcs who remained in the room.  They scrambled to their feet and leapt out of the door, pausing only to pick up their comrade who still lay barely conscious in the hall.
Dala turned towards the window, the orb of light still covering her hand.  Kristin dropped to the floor and the mattress was instantly pushed down on top of her.  For just a second, a green head looked in.  Then the light roared silently from Dala and caught the intruder directly in the face.  The head vanished.  From outside came the sound of rapid, receding footsteps.  Kristin and Jed got up and peered warily out of the window and door respectively.  The orcs had fled.
All eyes turned irresistibly towards Dala.  She stood perfectly still, breathing heavily but otherwise apparently composed.  For a long time, though, she was unable to meet anyone's gaze and stared at the floor with something approaching shame on her face.  Minyanis opened her mouth to speak but nothing would come out.  She simply looked awe-struck; Kristin was still very guarded but Jed's expression was a strange mixture of reverence and caution.  Finally Dala looked up.  She turned from Jed to Kristin and said in a shaking voice,
"My name's Dala Ossasi.  I'm fifteen years old and I'm a wizard."
Jed coughed and took a step towards her.  "Believe me, lass," he said.  "You're a damn sight more than that."
 
CHAPTER TWO
 
Capu Sergesta looked like a wizard.  There was very little else which could be said about his appearance.   He had a long grey beard, skin the texture of wrinkled parchment, sunken, cunning eyes and fingers stained a multitude of unwholesome colours.  Just so there was absolutely no confusion, he had a long frayed robe, a staff and beads tied into his hair.  The effect, in other words, came off.
"Now then, Miss Ossasi," he said, staring at Dala over steepled fingers.  "Which aspects of your situation are you still unclear about?"
Dala exchanged a glance with Minyanis, who sat next to her.  "I think," Minyanis prompted, "This is one of those times when you tell the truth no matter how it makes you look."
"You sure?"
"Pretty much."
"OK."  Dala turned back to Capu.  "Maybe we should start with sort of all of it."
A faint smile scuttled across the old wizard's face.  "I quite understand.  It is a considerable amount to take in.  And I realise that Mr Colac's account may have been rather lacking in some respects.  He is an invaluable operative but his grasp of the underlying-"
"Hey, just talk about me like I ain't here," Jed called from one corner of the room.  Leant against a wall, he was sporting a vivid bruise on one cheek.  "Oh, that's right…"
They were in an elegant conference room in a gentrified area around Zabrial Town Hall, along the southern stretch of the docks.  The murals on the walls were fresh and exquisite, the furniture was comfortable and the view outside was a stunning panorama of Zabrial Bay.  The room, and an equally refined bedroom and study attached to it, had been leased by Capu Sergesta on his arrival in the city two days ago, two weeks after the fight with the orcs.  Jed had inquired why the need for secrecy which saw him stuck in a fetid bedsit did not extend to his superior.  The answer, in Jed's opinion, was rather unconvincing.
"Actually, Jed's account was pretty clear," Dala countered, and glared at the man.  "And all the better for having been delivered about fifteen times a day.  But, well, I guess those pesky underlyings are beating me as well."
"Of course."  Capu gave another brief smile across the large oak table.  "Then I will try to explain it as clearly as possible.  Please feel free to interrupt me at any point if you have any queries.
"I sit on a council of wizards called the Elmii.  We are broadly under the auspices of the Academy of Magic, although not strictly part of their hierarchy and not always covered by the jurisdiction.  The relationship is quite… complicated.  There are five of us on the council.  We also employ non-wizards for specific purposes, gentlemen like Mr Colbic and his associate Syran, whom I gather you have also 'met.'"
Minyanis nudged Dala.  "Did you hear that?" she hissed excitedly.  "He can pronounce inverted commas."
"The Elmii," Capu continued, "Have but one function.  This is to find and protect the one we call the Guardian.  Each of us on the council have spent many, many years studying this strange and mysterious topic.  We also have at our disposal a considerable volume of writings, for the Elmii as a body has existed for many centuries.  Of course, our knowledge still has many gaps and discrepancies-"
"Fifteen years, fifteen years," Jed chanted softly, but Capu ignored him.
"-But I think we can justifiably consider us very learned on the subject of the Guardian."
"OK," Dala said hesitantly.  "All clear so far.  When it comes to the Guardian, you are The Guys.  Which brings us to the real question-"
"What, of course, is the Guardian?"  Capu paused for a second.  "You are aware, I trust, that there is more to this world than is immediately perceivable.  There are unseen energies and forces which are consistently in a state of flux and interacting with one another.  Together they compose what is commonly called life energy.  This gives breath and consciousness and the very stuff of being to every living thing.  The distribution of life energy is complex and uneven.  Some people are granted a surfeit of it from birth and they are able to transform it into magical energy.  Wizards, in other words, of with I am one."  He inclined his head modestly.  "That much is, I think, relatively simple.  Yet the whole situation is more complex.  There are certain configurations, a precise ordering of the patterns of energy…" The wizard paused again, frowning in thought.  "I am afraid it is hard to precisely explain it in layman's terms.  Just as the eddies of the energies are localised around small focal points, we wizards, so the entire pattern is centred around a single point.  Without it they would be… no, not destroyed, but knocked so greatly out of alignment that the result would be chaos.  That central point is the one we call the Guardian.
"The Guardian, or Guardians I should say, are human beings.  There have, we are almost sure, been seven to date in Teraf's history.  There is only ever one at any one time.  They do not exist concurrently – that is, there may be a gap of some quite considerable time between the death of one and the birth of the next.  Only when the patterns of energy reach a particular phase is a new Guardian born.  Predicting when the next Guardian will appear, what form they will take, is the most trying of all the Elmii's duties.  Whilst the Guardians are perfectly normal humans in most respects, they have a magical aptitude quite beyond even the greatest of all ordinary wizards.  Casting spells is, however, the least of the Guardian's functions.  For they exist to maintain the world as we know it, to prevent it being tipped into cataclysmic anarchy.  And as I am sure has been made clear to you, you, Dala Ossasi, are the current Guardian."
For a long time Dala simply stared blankly at the old wizard.  Then she rubbed her eyes and held a brief whispered conference with Minyanis.  Surfacing from it, she demanded of Capu.  "All right, I've got a few questions if you don't mind.  Like, what in the name of Narlan was all that-"
"Dala," Minyanis warned.  "Break down and isolate, remember?"
"OK, OK.  All right then.  Firstly, let me tell you a bit about myself.  I'm a fifteen year old girl you wouldn't notice if you passed in the street.  My dad's a small cog in a very big machine, and the only one of my ancestors with a claim to fame earned that by collecting a record number of drunk and disorderly charges for a single year.  My school teachers pretty much despair of me and my morals have been compared, not favourably I might add, with an alley cat's."
"She's got a lot of understated qualities though," Minyanis added loyally.
"I have magical powers, I admit that.  But all that means is I've got magical powers.  My point is, you could throw a street in any street in East Zabrial with an even chance of hitting a more likely saviour of the world, or whatever I am."
"You have to understand," Capu said tolerantly.  "Such details – parentage, academic achievements and so on – are of peripheral importance to the fundamental-"
"I knew you were going to say that.  But there's still a pretty yawning credibility gap here needing to be bridged."
"I quite understand.  "I must reiterate, however, that the Elmii have spent many years in study to anticipate the likely appearance of the next Guardian.  Due to the patterns of energy, this phenomenon can be predicted.  Only to an extent, I admit.  There was an unfortunate error made regarding the dates, which meant that our first contact with you was not quite as it should have been-"
"I do like a man who understates well."
"But we were certain that the next manifestation would be in East Zabrial, the southern districts of East Zabrial to be exact, and would be in female form."
"Female form?"
"And Mr Colac's field research has allowed us to identify you with precision.  I will try to explain the key criteria.  Tell me, how long have you been aware of your magical aptitude?"
"I…" Dala frowned uncertainly.  "Well, pretty much as long as I can remember."
"There was no moment when you suddenly became of it?  When the 'magic rose,' as the process is commonly termed."
"Not that I can remember.  It's just always been there as far back as I know.  Right alongside eating, walking and the rest."
"And when you cast a spell?  Do you feel in any way weaker?  Drained somehow?  As if a little part of your body has leaked away?"
"OK, this is getting weird now.  What am I saying?  Even weirder."