Page 2 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

This is it , she thought. I’m about to be caught .

A book that had been banned from the common people under all twelve monarchs of the past century would be wrenched from her possession.

She wondered what life would be like in the dungeons, deep underground and untouched by the sun.

Or perhaps they wouldn’t bother with the dungeons.

Perhaps Grubber would have his men execute her on the spot.

She was even more worried about her family.

How would her bedridden mother and younger brother support themselves without her? She was all they had.

She stumbled towards Grubber as if in a dream, her legs suddenly heavy. ‘I work for Mr Bovill. I’ve got his eggs in my basket, and I’m bringing ’em to mar—’

Grubber silenced her with a raised finger. ‘Spare me your drivel, girl. Guards, search the basket.’

A pair of tall, muscular guards closed in on her.

Now I’m truly done for , thought Solar. Throwing caution to the wind she thrust a hand into a pocket and pulled out three grimy copper coins.

‘If it pleases you, your honour, three coppers. I’ll bring ’em next time, too.

Every time I come to market I’ll bring this many, or more. ’

Grubber looked at the coins as if they were dirt on his boot.

He raised a calloused hand to strike her, but before he could bring it down a figure in a moss-green cloak and with shoulder-length, golden hair stepped from the queue of traders to stand between the captain and Solar.

He addressed Grubber calmly in an educated accent.

‘Haven’t you forgotten something, friend? Your house is burning down.’

Solar had no idea what the stranger meant. How could the man possibly know if Grubber’s house was on fire? Was it a threat?

For a moment, Grubber looked just as confused, but then he drew his hand back further and aimed a slap at the man’s face.

The stranger blocked it, catching Grubber firmly around the wrist. When he spoke his voice oozed authority.

‘Let the girl pass. I would be delighted to pay you with a vial of medicine for doing so, medicine that makes a short man such as yourself grow tall and strong. That is my offer and the only offer that you will receive. Take it; no one here will think any less of you, but nor will they envy you should you refuse.’

The stranger was tall, one of the tallest men that Solar had ever seen, and he had a lithe, athletic frame.

His startling blue eyes fixed Grubber with a relentless gaze.

His free hand rested on the leather-bound hilt of a sword sheathed at his belt.

There was no insecurity in his stance, only menace.

As he continued to stare down the captain, Solar was reminded of the predatory focus of a wolf.

Grubber was a couple of heads shorter than the stranger. Solar could clearly read on his startled face his rage at the man’s manner coupled with sheer incredulity at the unorthodox offer.

Yet the captain’s willpower and bullying resolve dwindled visibly under the stranger’s intense stare. ‘Fine,’ he snapped bitterly. ‘You think I don’t have more important demands on my time than quibbling over whether this wretched girl enters or leaves?’

The man did not answer, but pressed into Grubber’s hands a tiny, teardrop-shaped glass bottle of emerald-green liquid.

‘The city has no lack of brothels, friend ,’ Grubber said as he pocketed the bottle, his lewd tone carrying to all around. ‘ A man like you has no need to pick up unwashed waifs at the city gate to meet his needs.’

The man ignored him, and the guards stood back to let Solar and the tall stranger into the city. None of them had laughed at Grubber’s comment, and most wore looks of amazement that their commander was allowing himself to be insulted and overruled.

Seeing his men’s expressions, the captain’s cheeks flushed.

As Solar and the stranger passed, Grubber shot out a hand and grabbed a fistful of her hair. He hauled her towards him, twisting cruelly.

She let out a sharp cry, her face contorting in pain.

‘You’d better watch your back, girl,’ he snarled in her ear, before shoving her roughly after her protector.

Solar followed the stranger through the city gate, just as taken aback as anyone else by how things had developed. Who was he? Why had he helped her, Solar, a common girl with a basket of eggs?

*

Immediately within the gate was Falcontop’s main street.

It wound its way through the low-rent neighbourhood where Solar lived with her family, a district characterised by a maze of tumble-down houses and the squalling of children, before reaching the city centre with its great mansions, luxury shops and monumental statues of long-dead heroes.

She had barely taken a few steps along this road when the cloaked man gripped her firmly around the arm and dragged her into a nearby alley.

‘Now, girl, I would like to know the contents of your basket,’ he said coolly, once they were alone. ‘Tell the truth. I have no time for falsehoods. ’

The truth , thought Solar. The truth is that in my basket lies something powerful beyond the limits of your imagination.

In the wrong hands, it could threaten the lives of everyone in the city.

In the right hands, it could bring the men of Grubber’s pathetic city watch to their knees.

After I sell it, I’ll have enough money to pay for passage across the White Sea, strike out in foreign lands and rescue my father from whatever evil holds him there.

The truth was a dangerous thing.

‘Nothing but chicken eggs,’ she answered, looking at him with defiance.

‘I am not a fool, girl. Show me or I will look myself. I do not wish to take what you are hiding, merely to know for what we have both just risked our lives.’

‘Why did you help me?’

‘I have always found cause to sympathise with beggars, thieves and smugglers.’

‘I’m not a smuggler,’ said Solar.

The man raised a golden eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’ Even in the murk of the alley he was strikingly handsome, with tanned skin that accentuated the piercing brightness of his eyes.

A bow was slung across his back, and there was something of its suppleness and energy in his own movements.

His tone was friendly enough, but his words were delivered in a confident drawl that suggested he was used to being obeyed.

She sighed and handed him the basket. Taking little care not to break the eggs, he rummaged to the bottom and extracted the book.

He gave Solar an appraising look. ‘ An Instructive Manual in Wizardry . Well, of all the things I expected to pull from this basket, such a book was last on the list.’ He opened it and scanned the inside cover. ‘Where did you get it?’

Solar decided to be honest. After all, hadn’t the man just said that he had a soft spot for thieves? ‘I stole it. ’

‘Stole it? How?’

‘Once a year a ship from the Arid Lands berths at Queen’s Port and delivers the latest books written by foreign magicians. The king’s wizards study these to keep up with advancements in magic abroad. Queen’s Port isn’t far, just a couple of days’ walk.’

‘I am familiar with the place.’

‘Well, each book can fetch a fortune on the black market. The ship always arrives in the final week of August. I made sure I was at the port, waiting, well before then. I kept watch three days and, when the ship finally arrived, I made myself useful and helped unload the cargo. The ship’s skipper gave me three coppers once the job was done, and no one noticed when I swiped a book from the top of a crate. ’

‘You have an unusually thorough understanding of the trade in magic books, for an egg vendor,’ said the man.

‘And not many girls your age would dare to make the journey alone to Queen’s Port, steal a forbidden book and smuggle it past the notorious Captain Grubber.

Sadly for you, though, the book is next to worthless. ’

Solar was aghast. ‘Worthless? I don’t believe you. I’ve read some, and it’s the real thing. What do you know about wizardry anyway? Only the youngest sons of noble houses get schooled in magic.’

‘I’m just a doctor who sells medicines, but even a doctor can see when a magic book has not been stamped.’ He tossed it to Solar. ‘There, you see? The inside cover. It’s blank. No one is going to buy that.’

‘I don’t understand, why does it need to be stamped?’

‘Because according to the laws of the Arid Lands all magic books must undergo safety checks. Those that pass receive a stamp of approval; those that don’t are thrown on the fire.

Yours seems to have been shipped to Queen’s Port through some kind of error.

It could contain incorrect spells, be dangerous or even have a life of its own.

You won’t find a buyer willing to touch it with a six-foot pole. ’

Solar stared at the blank cover, furious at both herself and the mysterious stranger. The past week had been an entire waste of time and effort, and all hopes of peddling her contraband for enough coin to search for her father had vanished.

‘So where did a commoner such as yourself learn to read?’ asked the man, ignoring her distress.

‘My father taught me. He’s the smartest man I know, the best reader of all the carpenters in the city,’ she replied, snapping the book shut.

‘And your intelligent, literate father lets his daughter roam the country thieving?’

‘He went to the Arid Lands, fighting the king’s wars, but never returned. At home it’s just my little brother, sick mother and me. I do what I must to support ’em both.’

The doctor looked at her in silence. Solar began to wonder if she was required to say something more, and so eventually she added, ‘Thanks, for what you did earlier. With the captain.’

He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and farewell before pulling up his hood and walking briskly down the alley. ‘Wait!’ shouted Solar, who had suddenly thought of numerous questions she needed answering, but he had already turned a corner and was out of sight.

What kind of doctor carried a bow and looked so comfortable wearing a sword – and an expensive sword at that?

And what had he been doing queueing with the traders?

He didn’t seem to have any goods to sell, unless he had more bottles of so-called ‘medicine’ under his cloak.

She couldn’t say why, but she had the faintest suspicion that he may have been following her all morning, since before she had reached the city gate.