The young man was wearing a dark grey robe in a similar style to the other traders, but he was definitely Lu Shenks, the recently exiled member of the Forrester's Crossing city patrol. "It is you!"
Shenks eyes narrowed in some combination of confusion and suspicion. "Who's there?"
I turned my wrist to point the magelight in my glove at myself, taking care not to look directly into it. "Charity Wilison," I said, not sure how recognisable I was.
"What in the Maker's earth brought you out here?"
"Me? How did you get this far from the city? I've been on a train and a magical bike, but I doubt you had access to either."
"A magical... never mind. Your story can hardly be any stranger than mine."
Skids chuckled beside me. "Want to bet?"
Shenks looked like he'd smelled something bad. "Who is this, Miss Wilison?"
"This is Skids Dro, from Wonambi," I explained simply.
"City of Darkness, City of Magic, where the blind fish stares and the water spouts," was Skids' inevitable and unhelpful addition.
"Skids," I said a little curtly. "Meet Lu Shenks, of Forrester's Crossing Bonsai Patrol. He attempted to stop a runaway train, and was exiled for his trouble."
"Oh, sorry about that," Skids said, actually sounding apologetic. "How's life outside of the Pure treating you? And how did you get all this way in only a couple of nights?"
"You! You're the nightwalker who— Ahh!" Shenks' attempt at madly grabbing for Skids was halted when we shone our lights directly in his eyes. He stumbled away with his hands over his face.
The sonorous voice of Sente reminded us all of our surroundings. "Now, now, we haven't got all night. Most of us need our sleep, so please keep up and avoid fighting."
"I think we'll all need sleep soon," Skids said.
"Yes," I agreed, as we all began walking again. Skids and I illuminated our path between occasional trees, and Sente helped lead Shenks, who was still rather dazzled. "I slept late this morning, and was unconscious for half of yesterday, but I am not feeling great after being blown through a burning second-storey wall," I said, as a way to inform those who might need to know about that.
I was not surprised that this surprised Shenks. "You were what?"
"Apparently, something called 'inflammable air' is very explosive. The blacksmith was destroyed. I was inside, trying to rescue Chalice. I... failed."
"Oh. That's... I'm sorry for your loss. How did you end up here though?"
"I broke her out," Skids said, not actually helping to explain.
"Out of what?"
"Oh, your clerics had her locked away intending to 'purify' her because... So the day before yesterday I broke myself out, and tricked Charity into helping me get away, while also helping her get away since she needed medical attention. We took the train — roof seats! — most of the way to Yiwarra hive — it's near here — but rushed back to FC on borrowed spinnerbikes to try to stop mine from being 'purified'. Unsuccessfully. And Charity got caught in the middle of it, which your clerics didn't take kindly to. So I sprang her and here we are. After being ambushed by raiders, who killed our two travelling companions. Did I miss anything important?"
"I think that covers everything they might need to know," I said, hoping that was correct. There were a lot of details and diversions which we really did not need to explain.
Shenks was quiet for a while. "That... is a lot. I've mostly been walking with the traders and learning how to survive out here."
"You can't have walked all the way here from Forrester's Crossing, not in three days. Even a horse would not get you here from there."
Sente rejoined the conversation to provide an answer. "Some of my... trading partners picked him up the morning after he was exiled. They recognised that he would be best placed in my care, and conveyed him to my little flock with speed."
"Who...?" I asked at the same time as Skids asked, "How...?"
"Another time. You want to know about this relic, and Lu needs to assist the others in finishing rigging our sleeping hammocks for the night."
Shenks, who seemed to be seeing properly again, turned to join the bulk of the traders. There were several dozen of the cloaked figures, which was far more than I had realised were in the vicinity. Some of them were holding small light sources, so I could see enough to determine that they were working around two rows of evenly-spaced, tall, straight trees. These probably were formerly in the middle of a wide street, but now they decorated an empty grassy field. The traders were using the trees to hang their hammocks. Many were already in place, looking like shadowy banners draped between shadowy poles.
"Show us," Skids demanded. Dro was definitely impatient to find out why the relic was so important. So was I, to be honest.
Sente slipped the object out of a pocket in the folds of his tan robe. It was flat, rectangular, and smaller than a book. It made me think of Skids' scryer, except that it was black rather than orange, and about half the scryer's scale in all dimensions. "There is not much to see at present," he said. "It is currently inert, and requires a charge of... hmm, what is that quaint name you mages use? Yes, 'aether'."
"This weapon has a sizable aetherbottle," Skids said, a hint of menace creeping into dro's voice. I suspected that was not really intentional.
"I don't believe that would be very good for the relic. Perhaps something with less... punch?"
"If you can connect it to my scryer, that might give you what you need," Skids suggested. "It has a much more regulated flow of aether, and I think it can be used to supply other devices."
"A scryer? Ah, one of those fascinating mage devices. Yes, yes, that will be perfect!" Sente said with infectious excitement. "We just need the right kinds of wires to connect the devices. Do you have supplies?"
"Yeah, in my bag. Sometimes I have to repair aether-cabling and such," Skids said.
"Is the relic like a scryer?" I wondered.
"Hmm," Sente considered. "I think many would say it's the reverse. The relic is a device from the previous era of humanity. Thus it's name. The scryer is a mere approximation, aspiring to be like a fraction of what was once possible."
I had to know more, and how he knew so much. This was amazing information, but I had to know whether I could trust it. "How do you know what was possible? What do you know about the before-time?"
"Stories have been passed down from Sente to Sente. Not just stories, but details. I cannot really tell you much, as it would take weeks for you to grasp the context needed to understand much."
As we talked, Skids was unpacking dro's bag. Dro was sitting down, in order to keep hold of the aetherrailer. "Have you done something like this before?" dro asked Sente. "I don't want to guess and fry your relic with too much aether in the wrong place."
"Yes, I think I can help you with that," Sente said, and sat down beside Skids.
"How long do you think this will ta...?" I asked, but the final word turned into an irrepressible yawn.
"Not sure," Skids said. "How much aether does it need?"
"It could take us many minutes to set this up, and then close to an hour before it can be used," Sente said, sounding uncertain. "Perhaps you should nap while we work on it. Ask our friend Lu to find you a hammock and as many blankets as you need. Oh, have you eaten?"
"No," I realised. "I ate a little around lunch time but... I did not have much appetite."
"Injured as you are, you ought to eat. Lu can find you something."
"Right. Er, I thank you for your hospitality. And for helping us with the raiders!"
"Think nothing of it. The aether and skill that Skids is supplying me is adequate compensation."
"Great. I'll go now," I said, hoping the awkwardness I felt at his kindness was not visible in the near darkness.
I strode away, my magelight cutting through the darkness. Then I turned back around. "Uh, Skids, how do I turn this light off? If I'm going to nap..."
"Oh, of course. I forgot to explain that." Skids stretched out a hand into the middle of my light beam. "You just tap your thumb and third finger together twice, quickly. The same gesture will switch it back on too. If you tap the fingers once and slide them up and down, that will change the brightness. Tapping once and sliding left and right like this will make the beam wider or narrower." Dro demonstrated the gestures, and I copied them. "Great, you got it on the first try!"
I smiled, pleased with my success. "Thanks. You demonstrated it well."
"Just don't tap any other fingers. I'll have to teach you how to adjust your goggles some time. And set you up with a scryer. Anyhow, I don't think you can activate my ABAM accidentally, but it's best not to take any chances."
"No finger tapping," I quickly agreed. But even that warning could not dampen my enthusiasm at the fact that I had done magic! I had to ignore all sorts of warnings in my head about the rules I had broken and the punishments I had earned, but in the moment, none of that really mattered. I had moved my fingers, and made a light stop and start. It had not hurt anyone, and I did not feel like I had given up a part of myself. Though I knew that everyone I knew back home would be upset that I had done such a thing, it didn't feel evil. Was this really any different from mixing lantern fluid or picking up a cat? There was no risk of my gloves biting or scratching me, so it had to be safer, right?
I realised I'd been standing around musing again, so I hurried away before Skids and Sente noticed that I hadn't gone yet. They were engrossed in a tangle of wires, so I was probably fine in that regard.
"Um, hi, is Shenks around? Lu Shenks? The new guy, I guess?" I asked a small cluster of traders who were talking by a pile of baggage.
"He's over there," a woman said, pointing. She looked to be about thirty years old, and had a small child perched in her lap.
"Thank you," I said, and continued walking in the direction she'd pointed. I heard the conversation restart, and realised the group were discussing the relic. They seemed both excited and apprehensive about it. I felt the same.
Shenks spotted me before I spotted him. "Miss Wilison, there you are! Are you hungry?"
"Is it that obvious? I mean yes, Sente sent me over. And to find a hammock and blankets after I eat. I mean, he said I should ask your help."
"Of course. We have strips of salted bounder, bits of dried crackers, some cheese which is old enough that I'm not sure what sort it is, and water with a hint of apple to try to disguise the taste from the leather bottles. How does that sound?"
"That sounds excellent," I said, matching his humour.
"I'll be right back," he said, and dashed off.
I waited, feeling hungrier by the moment now that I was imagining food. He returned a very long minute later. "Smells delicious," I said, taking the wooden plate he handed me.
"You must be very hungry."
"Yes, but it's not really that bad."
"It beats eating roots."
"At least it's all natural. The pancakes the mages make..." I shuddered as I remembered their unnatural regularity.
"You really ate mage food?"
I realised how extreme that must sound. After spending so much time with only Skids and the casters to talk with, my perspective had become warped. "Yes. The mages... I don't think they are like what we were taught."
"You may be right," Shenks said, very tentatively. "I've heard some things. And seen things."
"The trading partners who Sente did not want to speak about?"
"Yes. I... Yes." Evidently, Shenks did not want to speak about them either.
I dedicated all my attention to chewing and swallowing, and as little as I could to tasting. The food was palatable, but not very good. "Thank you," I said once I had finished washing it down with weakly flavoured water.
"I'll take care of the plate for you. There's a free hammock behind you. Do you need help getting in?"
Fortunately I had seen a few traders enter theirs, so I was able to climb up without endangering myself. "I think I have it handled," I said.
"Er, right," Shenks said, looking rather intently at the point by my head where the hammock was tied to the tree.
I belatedly realised how shocking my mage clothes must be to Shenks. When I had been among mages, dressing like them — or to use mage language, like thall — had not really been a concern. The role of clothing in their society — or should I say thall's society? — was rather different to how the Pure treated it. And when I had been facing the fire in Forrester's Crossing, I had not really had time to dwell on my outfit, besides the importance of it being fireproof. "Um..."
"I'll bring you some blankets?"
"Yes, please."
Shenks darted away and quickly returned with a couple of rough, rolled blankets. He unfurled one and sloppily tossed it over me. "Another?"
I adjusted the blanket until it was as comfortable as its scratchiness allowed. "No, one is enough. These clothes are warmer than they look. Er..." There had to be something more important to talk about, and sending Shenks away seemed rude. "Sente. What can you tell me about him? What kind of man is he?" He seemed far less dangerous than the leader of the raiders, but appearances could be deceiving, and Shenks had been around him for a while longer.
"Hmmm... Well, he cares about his people. He's always kind and fair, and takes care to listen. He clearly knows a lot. And..."
"And?"
"He knows more than he admits. I can tell. He has knowing eyes, if that makes sense."
"Yes, it does. I felt that about him too," I said. While Sente had claimed to know a lot about the past from stories passed down from one Sente to the next, I was sure there was more to it than that.
"I knew you were perceptive," Shenks said idly, nodding to himself while looking out into empty darkness.
"You... have noticed me?"
"What?"
"You said I am perceptive."
"Oh, er, yes. I have not seen you often, but when I do, you are always evaluating everything around you."
"I suppose I am. I like to learn everything I can."
"Your father likes to talk about how devout you are in your studies."
"No," I said, a little embarrassed. "I'm really not. Not devout, I mean. I like to learn everything I can, even things forbidden me. I cannot get enough of advanced mathematics, even though I'm not meant to know that. Even though I've been told that women should have no use for such techniques." I was not sure what came over me, but I just had to admit it out loud to someone. "You must think I am terrible. Eating mage food, wearing mage clothes, befriending an enemy, seeking forbidden knowledge... and I have even used magic myself! And I enjoyed it." That last admission startled even me.
Shenks opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. His face scrunched up thoughtfully for a minute. "You know you can never go back, right?"
"I do not expect so, no. And even if I could, I do not think I could face anyone. All my attempts at making things right have only caused more destruction and death," I said, my words slowing as I was forced to remember the pain, both physical and emotional.
"I am not sure if I can go back either. My exile is temporary, but... I can feel myself becoming a different person. Not in a corruption kind of way. I just don't think I can go back to being the Lu Shenks everyone knew."
"I'm promised to marry a butcher," I said, glancing down at my engagement ring on my finger. The clerics had not seen fit to take it from me, and I was unsure of what message that was supposed to send. "I met him, the other day. He... he helped us. Skids and me. I think he is a good man. Though the clerics would say otherwise, because he aided a mage. But the clerics may not be as pure as they claim to be. I remember Cleric Quire catching me breaking our laws, but he let me go free. More than once.
"You met your intended? In Deepbloom?"
"Yes, Skids and I were stranded in the city after jumping onto the train, and he was the only person I could think to turn to. That worked out far better than it had any right to. But he is a friend of Cleric Quire, so... perhaps something unusual is afoot."
"Perhaps. I suppose you saw..."
"His hook? Yes. I know I should not ask, but I am curious and I know there is no chance I might see him again, so... Do you know what happened? Was it a professional injury?"
"Er... no." Shenks looked uncomfortable about discussing the topic, and I began to regret having asked. "I heard it happened when his wife died."
"I thought she died of an illness."
Shenks shrank away from me. "Well... Look, I don't know much. But she wasn't ill. Something was wrong with her, but not an illness. I really do not wish to speculate beyond that, alright?"
"Alright. I apologise for pushing you. Thank you for your help, and for keeping me company, but I really ought to have a nap, and I am probably keeping you from something."
"Yes, I really ought to... go. And wash, yes. I'll see you in the morning?"
"I suppose so," I said, not sure what anyone's plans were. "Maker bless?"
"Right, Maker bless, if that is still possible for us." The young man hurried away, and I switched my magelight off. I lay in darkness, alone with my thoughts again.
As physically worn out and ruined as I felt, I unfortunately could not get to sleep. With nothing to occupy my mind, I could not ignore the words of condemnation in my head. My wrongs had only piled up, and I had escaped my official punishment. While the food was not great, the traders were hospitable, so my unofficial exile was not truly a penance. If I continued like this, my infractions would go unresolved, until I stopped caring about the Codex of Purity altogether. This was where my years of minor rebellion had lead me.
Or was I freeing myself from a web of lies? I could not really grasp at that thought, not without leaping off a mental cliff. The foundation of my life did appear to be unsteady, but could I really uproot everything? Would I drift away with nothing to hold onto, lost in a directionless void? It was fitting that I was asking myself such questions in such a place as Nearton's Gap. Formerly a great city full of life, now barely a memory, and untethered from the railway tracks.
Even the mages had tracks, both real and social. Their society did not have our rules, but there had to be something keeping people in check. Was it the 'Over Seer' who provided structure and authority to mage life? And what of the traders? Was it contact with the Pure that kept them somewhat civilised, despite their separation from 'civilisation'? Or was it something else? I had a lot of questions to ask. But first, there was the issue of my unpunished wrongs to address.
A recent conversation came to mind. Shortly before meeting Skids, I had talked with Father about the consequences of my failures. The loss of my eye was one such consequence. That still hardly seemed real. Shenks had not brought up my eyepatch, so I had not had to explain it to him. Soon, people would see my injury and feel sorry for my loss. I did not want that. Outside the Pure, no one would really understand what it meant. The glass eye was an ironic statement of my shame: a fragment of the Great Maker's gift in my face, yet it was of no benefit to me, as I was partially cut off from his light. If I accepted sympathy I did not deserve, I could forget the true meaning. That would be a worse betrayal than helping a mage, stealing clothes, jumping onto a train, or even using magic.
I roughly pulled my handbag open and reached inside for pen and paper. I could not forget my wrongs if I recorded them. Without Father keeping a tally in his consequence book, I would have to do it myself. With the list written down, safe from being forgotten, perhaps I might not need to dwell on it so much.
Almost angrily, I scrawled out the accusing words. My injuries did not impact my writing, but the entire exercise felt empty. In order to write, I had needed light, which meant magically activating one of my gloves. What did it really mean to write of transgressions such as eating food produced and delivered by magic, while actively benefiting from the use of magic? Did I really believe my wrongs were wrong? And did these words really mean anything while they were hidden away in a book?
I shoved the sheets of paper back into my bag and held up my pen, staring at the nib. It was a self-inking fountain pen, with a barrel made of local apricot wood. It had been a gift from my parents for my sixteenth birthday, and I used it at every opportunity. I had already replaced the cartridge of black ink three times. It had served me well, but I had quickly learned to take extreme care to avoid staining my skin. The ink did not wash off, and took a long time to wear off. My skin was not so dark that the black ink did not stand out.
Baring my left forearm, I slashed the pen across in four short parallel strokes, then added a diagonal through them to complete the five-bar gate. I repeated the motions closer to my wrist, for a total of ten black tally lines. One for each chapter of the Codex of Purity. There it was, a record which would not quickly fade, and could not be so easily hidden away.
I had pushed hard, so the resulting lines hurt. But I already had worse pains, so all I really noticed was a feeling of relief. Now I would not forget who I really was. Maybe with that as a starting point, I could figure out who I was meant to become.
Packing my pen away and adjusting my blankets again, I hoped to actually get some rest before Skids and Sente completed their work on the relic. That was not to be. All this time, the traders' conversations had formed a quiet background noise. They were easy to ignore, until the moment they began to sing.