down to wait. The globe held the place of honour at the centre of the table, drawing attention from diners and from passers-by. Keth and his companions watched as it cleared inside, the lightnings fading.
Keth couldn’t eat a thing once they were seated. He tore a piece of flatbread into the tiniest of crumbs, to the approval of the pigeons who came to forage by torchlight. It was unfair to wait for his own device to reveal something in its time, not Keth’s. Magic, he thought ruefully, is more the master than the pet dog. In his mind he heard Tris say scornfully, “Whoever told you it was anything else?”
He tried again to draw the lightnings out, but it was as if his magic no longer existed. It was maddening to sit here and wait, and risk the chance that they would be too late to save the next victim.
Dema put a hand on Keth’s arm. “It’s clear what you’re thinking,” he said quietly. “But Keth — she’s probably dead by now, whoever she is.”
Keth sat bolt upright, his mouth dry. “That’s a horrible thing to say! We might see her in that, still alive!” He pointed to the globe. “Don’t pronounce her dead until you’ve found the body — as well invite the gods to kill her, not the Ghost!”
Dema leaned closer, inspecting Keth’s face by torchlight. Suddenly he placed the inside of his wrist on Keth’s forehead. When Keth jerked away, Dema calmly produced a black leather case from his sash and opened it to reveal a lens. He held it up to one eye, then put it away, shaking his head. “She was right, and I was too hot to get moving to realize it,” he muttered. “Your skin’s clammy, you’re hot and you’re sweating a river. You’ve overdone it. If you try to do more tonight, you’ll make yourself ill. You need rest.”
“I’m fine,” Keth retorted. “What is it, getting a mage’s credential turns you all into old women, forever fussing and worrying over someone? I made that cursed globe and I’ll see it through. You and Tris can go nursemaid each other!” He struggled to his feet and stood, wavering, as sweat trickled down his cheeks. “I’ll settle the Ghost…” His ears buzzed. His legs turned to over-cooked noodles. Shadows filled the edges of his vision, shadows that grew and expanded as the buzz turned to a roar.
In the room that Tris shared with Glaki, they sat together on the bed, the little girl freshly bathed. Glaki petted Little Bear as Tris explained how Sandry, Briar and Daja had decided that Tris would miss the dog most of all of them during her travels. She had reached the point at which Little Bear had to be coaxed on to the ship when she heard Ferouze’s hoarse bellow in the courtyard below.
She stalked out to the gallery over the courtyard, ready to berate Ferouze for raising such a noise when it was nearly Glaki’s bedtime. Looking down, she saw the old woman at the entrance to the street passage. Three men stood with her, two in amrim red. The third, sagging between them, was Keth.
Tris tucked Glaki in, ordered her to sleep, then went down to her student.
“Just keeled right over,” the older of the arurimi said as Tris guided them to Keth’s room. “Dhaskoi Nomasdina was saying he overdid it, and Keth here was giving him what-for when his eyes rolled up and down he went.” The arurimi laid Keth on his bed and set about removing his boots. “Will he be all right, dhaskoi?” the man asked. “Dhaskoi Nomasdina said he would, but then, Dhaskoi Nomasdina didn’t see this lad was reeling in the saddle.”
“He won’t even know he was ill in the morning,” Tris assured them. “This is normal enough, when a student’s too big for the teacher to order him to bed.” She waved them out and returned to open Keth’s shirt and bathe his sweaty face. “You want to cure all the ills of the world in one day, because you think magic can do that,” she murmured as she drew a sheet over Keth. “You’ll learn.”
Less than an hour passed after Dema had sent Keth home when the globe began to clear. The men he’d sent with Keth were riding into Dema’s view when one of his arurimi leaned in to stare at the globe. “I know that balcony! It’s at Lagisthion, the debate arena at Heskalifos!”