Varina ci’Pallo
THE STREETS OF OLDTOWN were awash with panicked
citizens, most of them running eastward away from the approaching
Westlander forces and the battles along the Avi a’Parete. They
could all hear the sounds: the shouts reverberating down the lanes,
the cries, the screams, the constant din of the wind-horns
shrilling alarm from the temples. The smoke of the fires was
smeared across the sky, filthy rags sometimes obscuring the sun,
and the smell of fire and carnage was thick in the
air.
Varina found herself
staying close to Karl for most of the day. She would smile at him,
nervous and uncertain, and he would give her the same smile back.
“Promise me,” she said finally. They were alone in one of the
rooms; Talis, Serafina, and Nico were in the other.
“Promise you
what?”
“That whatever
happens, it happens to us both. Save a last spell for us, and I’ll
do the same.”
“It’s not going to be
that bad,” he told her. “Talis . . . he’s one of them, after
all.”
She nodded at that,
as uncomforted by that fact as he was.
Late in the day, the
smell of smoke became stronger. From the windows of their rooms,
they could see thick, greasy smoke boiling up from the houses a
street over to the west, with flames occasionally shooting up
through the black. Ash was drifting down like gray snow. Karl
imagined he could almost feel the heat. They went into the front
room with the others.
“Everything’s
burning,” Nico said. He looked more excited than concerned, but the
adults all looked at each other worriedly. The faint crackling of
the flames was audible in the silence.
“You’re right, Nico,”
Varina said to him, glancing at Serafina. “I’m afraid the fire-téni
are too busy elsewhere to do anything about this.” Varina’s gaze
shifted from Serafina to Karl. Varina knew what he was thinking—it
was what was on all of their minds: Can we
stay here? Do we need to leave?
Less than a turn of
the glass or more later, they all heard a loud commotion welling up
from the west on the street outside. Varina opened the door to peer
out. Not far down the street, a mob of several dozen people prowled
the lane—not soldiers, not Westlanders, but those who lived in
Oldtown. They were shouting, rushing from house to house and
breaking in through doors and windows—she could hear the screams
and cries of those inside as the mob pushed its way inside each
house. They were looting, carrying out anything that appeared to be
valuable: she could see some of them clutching stolen items as they
marched; what else they were doing in those houses, she could only
guess at. There were fires already burning in three or four houses
farther down the street. The mob was shouting,
screaming—“Take what you want! The city’s
lost! Rise up! Rise up!”
Karl and Talis pushed
past Varina toward the street as the mob continued its slow,
chaotic progress toward them. Someone at the front noticed them and
pointed, and several clots of looters surged toward them. “Stop
this!” Karl called, and they mocked him, shouting back at him and
shaking old or improvised weapons. Karl glanced at Talis, shaking
his head. He lifted his hands, gesturing, and light blossomed
between his hands. Alongside him, Talis had raised his staff,
tapping it once on the pavement stones: a lightning bolt arrowed up
from the knob toward the smoke-wrapped sky.
The mob stopped.
Without a word, they scattered in a strange silence, scurrying in
any direction as long as it was away from them. A few breaths
later, the street was empty. “Well, that went rather well,” Karl
said. He and Talis turned, and Varina saw their mouths drop open as
they gaped.
Varina had cast her
own spell even as Karl had cast his. She’d shaped the air around
her with a sculptor’s touch, drawing upon it as a canvas and
placing on it an image from her mind. She knew what Karl and Talis
saw, looming behind them higher than any of the
houses.
“A dragon!” Nico, in
Serafina’s arms, shouted from the doorway of the house in delight.
Karl laughed, clapping his hands, and Varina grinned. “Can you make
it spit fire and fly?” Nico asked, and Varina shook her head at the
boy.
“It can’t
do anything. It just looks ferocious,” she told him. For a moment, the
danger was forgotten, but then reality collapsed back around them
as Varina let the spell go. The dragon vanished in a fume of green,
smoky ribbons that the wind hurried away. The looters might be
gone, but nothing had changed. They’d be back, soon enough, and the
nearby fires still raged unchecked. The city was still under
assault.
“Karl,” Varina said,
“we can’t stay here.”
Karl looked once at
Talis, saw the man nod slightly. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s
time. Let’s gather what we need.” He clapped Talis on the shoulder
and started toward the door.
Across the street,
Varina saw a lone older woman—a beggar, from the look of her
clothing. She was staring toward their house. As Varina noticed
her, the woman seemed to nod, then hurried away into the dark,
narrow space between the houses and was gone.