The Tainted City by Courtney Schafer Page B

time…“Your drover friend…the one from the convoy, with the patchwork cap?”
    Dev nodded, his mouth a tight line.
    “Dev…” Kiran felt sick. He leaned close and whispered, “I know it’s my fault you’re trapped here. Truly, I’d almost finished the spell. Perhaps I can bargain with Marten—”
    “ Don’t bargain with Martennan,” Dev whispered harshly. “Not yet. If you can help me get this Shaikar-cursed snapthroat charm off and cross the wards, I’ve an idea—”
    The door creaked, and Dev hastily sat back. Lena poked her head into the study. “Dev, the housekeeper says your room is prepared. After your journey, I thought you might like the chance for a hot bath and some clean clothes.”
    Dev stood. “Sure. Khalmet knows I’ve got a minecart’s worth of coal grit to scrub off.”
    “Perhaps afterward I can show you the garden,” Kiran said. “It’s really quite beautiful.” Unlike the wards in the study, those on the garden walls held no element of scrying, and the splashing of the central fountain would cover the sound of conversation. If he could touch Dev’s torc, see the spell pattern Marten had set within…spells could be disrupted if a charm was physically damaged or altered in a spot critical to the pattern’s flow. Then again, even if Kiran could circumvent the charm so Dev could safely cross the wards, he didn’t know what Dev might do to help Melly after that. Sneaking into the Arcanum had seemed difficult enough. Dev would never make it to the border before Marten and the others noticed his absence.
    “The garden sounds good,” Dev agreed. The glint of wary hope in his eyes brought an answering thread of warmth to Kiran’s chest. Whatever Dev’s plan, Kiran wouldn’t fail him. Not after Dev had given up so much for Kiran’s sake.
    * * *
    “Khalmet’s hand, I can’t get over how green it is here.” Dev surveyed the garden, looking bemused. Kiran knew the feeling. The garden’s high stone walls enclosed flowerbeds and vine-covered arbors whose lush vibrancy far outmatched any he’d seen in Ninavel. But then, water was no jealously rationed resource here. Kiran still marveled at the mildness of Alathia’s climate. In Ninavel, summer’s searing heat kept even the lowest of servants from venturing outside while the sun was high. Yet here in Tamanath, he stood with Dev in full sun on a midsummer afternoon and felt no more than pleasant warmth.
    Dev’s gaze settled on the walls. “Damn,” he muttered. “They know how to place wards. And no trees or anything nearby high enough to let me jump clear. Can’t even get close enough for a good look, thanks to those rosebushes.” Roses in shades of deepest red and violet lined the base of the walls, their canes bristling with thorns. Fifteen feet above the blooms, black whorls and loops marked the gray stone, warding every inch of the wall’s top.
    “Come see the fountain,” Kiran said. At the garden’s center, low wooden benches bracketed an obsidian sculpture of four rearing swans. Water arced from the swans’ beaks to splash in a pond dotted with floating, jewel-toned flowers. Kiran led Dev around the fountain’s back side. When he was sure the swans blocked the view from the house windows, he halted.
    “I’ll try and read your collaring charm’s pattern,” he told Dev. “Hold still.” Kiran reached for Dev’s torc—and jerked his fingers back, hissing, as fire seared his nerves.
    “What’s wrong?” Dev demanded.
    “Marten warded your charm against me.” Of course; the healers had taken several vials of blood from Kiran during their examination of him. Marten must have used one to design and key a warding spell. Remembering that casual brush of Marten’s finger over Dev’s torc, Kiran felt a twinge of admiration for the man’s skill.
    “Shit.” Dev aimed a fierce glare at the house. “Should’ve known. Don’t suppose you have any kalumite?”
    “Kalumite?” Kiran had never heard of