Stuck in Magic 8
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Chapter Eight
The question mocked me as I purchased some food from a roadside stall and forced myself to eat it. Why should anyone listen to me? I was no one. I wasn’t a warlord or a magician or even a wealthy merchant. Hell, for all I knew, I was missing something. There were no shortage of horror stories about ignorant do-gooders who’d made things worse because they didn’t really know what was going on. Sure, buying food staples in bulk can save money in the long run, but only if you have the space to store the food. What sort of idiot wouldn’t realise that poor people often didn’t have the space to store anything?
A ignorant idiot ignorant of her own ignorance and idiocy, I thought. My stomach shifted as I chewed a piece of meat … I thought it was meat. I didn’t want to know what it had been, before it had been killed and tossed in the cooking pot. But what am I going to do here?
I was terrifyingly aware of my own ignorance. I’d come to a world where no one gave a damn about the colour of my skin or college degree and yet … I didn’t have the slightest idea how to apply for a job. Or what was fair pay. Or what my legal rights were … actually, I was fairly sure I didn’t have any rights. Damansara didn’t strike me as a place founded on law, order and a shared understanding of the rules. The citizens had presumably evolved ways to govern themselves, but I didn’t even know who to ask for help. And who would give me help? I didn’t know that either.
The marketplace surrounded me as I wandered through the square. The merchants might be interested in hiring me … it was galling to consider being a shopboy or delivery man after spending years in the army, but it was better than starvation. I’d known too many people who’d refused to do menial labour, even when it was that or starve. I knew better than to let myself fall into that mindset. And yet, I didn’t even know where to begin. Who’d be interested in hiring me? I didn’t even know how to ask.
I wandered past a stall piled high with fruits and vegetables, wondering if the stallkeeper would be interested in a spare pair of hands. I needed somewhere to stay as well as money to earn my keep … I was used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, but I doubted I’d last a night if I tried sleeping in an alleyway. Shantytowns and homeless encampments tended to be thoroughly unsafe for strangers. I was lucky I wasn’t a young woman running away from home. I’d probably find myself being sweet-talked by a pimp, then get put to work turning tricks on the street. Somehow, I couldn’t see myself being a successful prostitute. Even Cleo had hesitated to describe me as handsome.
The thought hurt, more than I cared to admit. I’d loved her. I loved my boys. But I’d never see them again and they’d never know what had happened to me. The army would probably class me as a deserter, as someone who’d driven into the countryside and vanished … I made a face. They’d never even find the car. And …
I heard a shout behind me and turned, just in time to see a young boy – he couldn’t be older than fourteen, although it was hard to be sure – running away from a stall as if the hounds of hell were behind him. He held a loaf of bread in one hand. The merchant was shouting about thieves … I realised, to my horror, that he’d stolen the bread. A flash of naked anger ran through me. I’d known too many would-be shopkeepers ruined because of thieves, their livelihoods destroyed because they couldn’t replenish their stock or … I lunged forward without thinking and tackled him. He tumbled to the ground, lashing out with surprising strength. It was hard to get a grip on him. He twisted and turned in a desperate bid to escape. I held him down, ducking a wild blow aimed at my face as I caught his arms and pressed them against the ground. The loaf of bread hit the street and lay still. I hoped someone wouldn’t try to eat it. I’d seen animals shitting and pissing on the ground. There were things on the cobblestones no one wanted in their mouth.
“Got the brat!” I looked up to see a pair of city guardsmen running towards me. “Good work!”
The thief twisted underneath me. One of the guards clapped me on the shoulder, then pushed me off the boy and kicked him hard. Too hard. I tensed, suddenly wondering if I’d made a mistake. The boy was a thief and yet … the other guard caught hold of the lad by his hair and yanked him upright, then searched him roughly. A set of pouches tumbled to the ground. I guessed the boy was a pickpocket as well as a thief. And yet …
I eyed the guardsmen warily as they pocketed the pouches, making sure to keep their hands on the boy. They looked … it was hard to put the feeling into words. They didn’t look very professional. They looked more like thugs than real policemen. I had the feeling they were the type of guardsmen who’d take bribes, who’d exploit their positions for all they were worth. I’d met the type, in Afghanistan. They’d managed to unite entire districts against them. A shudder ran down my spine. Who could blame the locals for wanting the policemen dead?
“You’ll come with us,” the lead guard said. I was certain it wasn’t a request. “Come.”
I hesitated. They were muscular, but I didn’t think they knew how to use it. I could take them both, even without the gun. And yet … I considered running, on the assumption I could simply outrun them, but where would I go? The boy I’d caught moaned in pain as one of the guardsmen kicked his ankle, hobbling him. I sighed and fell into step beside them. It was hard not to miss the looks people were giving me. They probably felt I’d done the wrong thing. I was starting to feel the same way too.
The crowds parted as we walked down the streets. I couldn’t help noticing how many people turned away from the guardsmen, as if they were fearful of attracting their attention. I’d seen that before too, in places where honest policemen met unpleasant ends and government cared more for appearance than reality. I wasn’t sure this place was advanced enough to care about appearance, but … I considered, again and again, simply running for my life. And yet, it was pointless? Where the hell would I go?
Perhaps I shouldn’t have shot those guys, I thought, morbidly. Perhaps I should have asked Jasmine to take me …
The boy let out a moan as a small fortress came into view. I stared in astonishment. The guardhouse was a blocky structure that looked designed to withstand a siege, surrounded by a wall topped with iron spikes. A pair of guardsmen stood outside the gates, their hands resting on their swords. The street beyond was surprisingly quiet. I guessed no one wanted to walk past the guardhouse for fear they’d be dragged inside and tortured. My escorts spoke to the gatekeepers, then marched through the gate and into the building. The air inside was surprisingly cold. I shivered, helplessly. The thief was passed to a pair of guardsmen and I was shown to a stone bench. I shrugged, sat and waited. It wasn’t as if I had anything else to do.
I forced myself to wait for what felt like hours. Guardsmen – all men, I noted – came and went with astonishing regularity. They wore the same uniform – a white tunic with a black belt and sash – but otherwise they were strikingly dissimilar. Some were old, some were young; their skins ranged from white to black and everything in between. Some of them looked as if they could get into Special Forces without even trying, others were weirdly acrofatic to the point I couldn’t help wondering if they’d been cursed. One of the weirder looking men reminded me of Obelix. They chatted to each other like …
Silence fell. I looked up to see a middle-aged man making his way towards me. He wore the same white tunic, but a golden – or at least gold-coloured – sash. I would have known he was in charge even without it, from the way the rest of the guardsmen deferred to him. His face was rough, covered with unkempt stubble; his smile was missing several teeth; his piggish eyes showed a glint of intelligence unleavened by humanity. I was careful not to meet his eyes as he marched closer. I had the feeling he’d take it as a challenge.
He looked me up and down, his expression managing to suggest he’d seen more impressive people sleeping rough on the streets. I did my best to remain calm, yet ready to act. I’d met my share of unfit commanding officers, but the newcomer managed to be worse. He looked the type to explode at a moment’s notice, the type who could be set off by anyone or anything. I braced myself, unsure if I’d be rewarded or punished. It was quite possible I’d made a serious mistake and put my neck in the noose.
“So,” the newcomer said. He had no indoor voice. He sounded like a sea captain trying to make himself heard in a storm. “Who are you?”
“Elliot, sir,” I said.
“I am Captain Alder, City Guard,” the man thundered. He turned away. “Come.”
I stood and followed him through a twisting maze of corridors. The building felt old, as if it had been passed down from generation to generation of guardsmen. I suspected the interior had been designed to confuse intruders as much as anything else, although there was no way to be sure. Captain Alder marched onwards without so much as slowing down, forcing everyone else to get the hell out if his way. I wasn’t even sure he was looking where he was going. It looked as if he didn’t have to. I saw men jumping out of his way as if they were about to be run down by a charging elephant.
My lips quirked. I hastily smoothed them into a neutral expression as Captain Alder led me into a small room. Another man – tall, thin, bald and strikingly pale – stood to greet us. He nodded to Captain Alder, then looked at me. I felt an odd little tingle as his eyes met mine for a second. Magic? The man was dressed in black. Jasmine had told me that magicians were the only people allowed to wear black clothes.
Crap, I thought. I didn’t have the slightest idea what this man could do, but … there was something in Captain Alder’s posture that suggested the magician was dangerous. It was strange, very worrying. I’d known boys who were so insane, so willing to do anything to hurt someone even if it meant getting hurt themselves, that they’d scared even grown men. What now?
“Sit,” Captain Alder ordered. He pointed to a chair. “Why did you help my men?”
I felt a strange compulsion to answer – and answer truthfully. It was disconcerting to feel my lips threatening to move of their own accord, to speak words that I didn’t quite want to speak. I tried to shape a lie, it refused even to form. I cursed under my breath, wondering if I should shoot the pair of them and then try to escape. Magic … who knew what the sorcerer could do to defend himself? They had guns. It wasn’t impossible they knew how to protect themselves too.
“I don’t like thieves,” I said, finally. It was true. It was also a test of just how much the spell would allow me to do. I could say anything I liked, as long as it was true. I’d just have to be careful my answers matched the questions. I was pretty sure they had ways of making me talk. “They ruin lives and businesses.”
“Good.” Captain Alder seemed oddly amused by my answer. “You’re new to the city, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I tried to tell a half-truth, to say I’d been in the city before, but I couldn’t force myself to shape the words. “I’ve only just arrived.”
“I see,” Captain Alder said. “Where do you come from?”
I tensed. They might not believe the whole truth, spell or no spell. And if they did … I shuddered, inwardly. I wasn’t sure what would be worse. If they believed me … I wondered what they’d do. Laugh at me? Enslave me? Sell me to someone who could put my knowledge to work? Or … I didn’t want to know.
“I was brought from a distant land,” I said, carefully. “I’ve been travelling ever since.”
The sorcerer leaned forward. “You have a translation spell on you,” he said. “Why don’t you speak the common tongue?”
“I was never taught how to speak it,” I said. “I’m trying to learn.”
Captain Alder studied me for a long moment. “Did you run away from a farm?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“Good,” Captain Alder said. He seemed pleased by my answer. It took me a moment to realise he’d have had to return a runaway to his former master. “What are you doing in the city?”
“Looking for a job,” I said. “It isn’t going very well.”
Captain Alder laughed. “What sort of job do you want?”
“Something that pays and lets me have a place to sleep,” I said. There were several other answers, but I didn’t want to get into them. I needed to learn how the city really worked – and master the common tongue – before I tried anything more complex. “I’m not that picky.”
Captain Alder and the sorcerer exchanged glances. “Last question,” Captain Alder said. “Do you want to join the guard?”
I blinked in surprise, then kicked myself. There was no reason to believe the locals vetted the guardsmen very thoroughly, if at all. Captain Alder had confirmed that I was new to the city and in desperate need of a job and … he didn’t need to know anything else. Hell, he might see my lack of anywhere else to go as a positive advantage. Besides, I might just have made myself unpopular by catching the thief. The locals probably didn’t like thieves, but I’d bet my life they hated the City Guard even worse. I might discover the locals didn’t feel inclined to help me at all.
“It would be a good job,” I said, although I wasn’t sure that was true. The spell should have kept me from lying, but … what if I didn’t know I was lying? I found it hard to believe the spell could determine absolute truth or … I shook my head. There would be time to think about the implications later. I needed to learn the common tongue, then start studying. “I would be interested.”
“Good.” Captain Alder glanced at the sorcerer. “Thunder, I’ll see you later.”
The sorcerer – I tried not to snicker at the name – stood and left the room. I shaped a lie in my mouth, just to test if the spell was still working. The lie seemed ready to leave my lips. I didn’t dare say it out loud as Captain Alder stood and stared down at me. I was taller than him, I thought, but he had a presence that dominated the room. It was hard to escape the sense I was far too close to a wild animal, one that might turn on me at any moment. I wasn’t sure what I’d managed to get myself into, this time. Working as a guardsman might just land me in worse trouble.
“Kneel,” Captain Alder ordered. “Have you ever sworn fealty before?”
I shook my head. I’d taken the oath, when I’d joined the army, but I had a feeling Captain Alder meant something different. It was disturbing to kneel, let alone place my hands in his and listen to a string of words that bore no resemblance to anything I’d heard back home, even in period dramas. There was no mention of truth, justice or even law and order. Instead, I was told to obey orders from my superiors and little else. Back home, I’d been told policemen spent years training for the role. Here … the ability to wield a club or a whip was sufficient. I suspected there was no such thing as a written law code.
“Welcome.” Captain Alder relaxed, slightly, when he’d finished reciting the oath. He hadn’t asked me to recite it back to him, not even the important parts. “I’ll have you outfitted at once.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask questions so quickly – Captain Alder would probably react badly – but I owed it to my conscience to take some risks. “Sir … the boy I caught … what will happen to him?”
“The street rat?” Captain Alder shrugged, as if the matter was of no importance. “He’ll be lamed, probably. Or sold into slavery. There are lots of people who’ll pay good money for a young worker …”
I felt my gorge rise. I’d caught the boy and condemned him to … I swallowed hard, cursing myself savagely. What the hell had I done? This wasn’t America. This was … this was somewhere completely different. And I might have made a dreadful mistake.
Learn the rules, I told myself, savagely. There was nothing I could do to save the boy. Not now. And then you can figure out how to make things better.
