The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,2

cheerfulness.

“Damn, Bren, laying it on like a Sulanian charm dealer, weren’t you?”

Bren shrugged. “Fucking rich brats, they all expect it.” He splayed his hand on an engraved copper panel set into the smooth adobe of the back wall. The ward tracings flared silver as they recognized him and revealed his strongbox.

“What the hell is this all about, anyway?”

Bren smiled, a much smaller, tighter smile than he’d displayed in front of Kiran. “Want me to make up a nice lie for you?”

I made a face but didn’t reply, figuring I’d deserved that. He’d made it clear enough back when I started working for him that he expected a courier to keep his mouth shut and ask no questions.

Bren removed a bundle of tightly wrapped items from the strongbox, laid a banking draft on top, and slid the lot across the table to me. “Once you get him across the border, no matter what he says, take him straight to Gerran’s. No delays, and don’t let him out of your sight.” He leaned forward and held my gaze. “The job’s not done until then. And Gerran and I expect discretion on this. Full discretion. Understand?”

Yeah, I understood, all right. Either Kiran was an errand boy for someone who didn’t trust him, or Gerran intended to turn an additional profit on Kiran’s little trip and didn’t want him to know about it. Shit. This job got crazier by the minute. I scowled at Bren.

“A little tricky for such a simple job, don’t you think?”

“You agreed to the terms,” he said, his tone a warning.

This was my last chance to back out. I eyed Bren’s banking draft. Damn Jylla to Shaikar’s darkest hell for making this job a necessity.

“Fine.” I slipped the draft into a pocket. “This had better be worth it, Bren.”

***

Only the highest towers of the city still showed a faint gleam of sunlight warming their pale stone as I hurried away from Bren’s place. The high walls and buildings surrounding me blocked my view of the mountains to the west, but I could imagine their snowy serrated ridges deepening toward the blue of twilight and their vast shadows spreading out over the desert valley. Damn, but I couldn’t wait to get up there again. I always got a little edgy after a long winter in the city, but this time I had other reasons for wanting out of Ninavel.

My pace slowed as the evening crowds gathered. Ninavel is always liveliest after sunset, when cool night breezes relieve the searing daytime heat. People filled the streets, shopping, drinking, standing around in loose groups laughing and watching street performers. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a kid darting through the crowd, chased by another, both giggling and shrieking. The adults around them didn’t look twice, but I noticed the careful pattern of their ducking and dodging, and smiled to myself. Taint thieves, both of them. Not that powerful, or they’d be doing something tougher than crowd work. I tried to spot their minder, but he or she blended with the crowd well enough that it wasn’t an easy mark. I checked the protective amulets I wore on both wrists. Their silver shone untarnished, and the stones remained clear. My money and Bren’s goods would remain safe, at least from lesser Tainters like those kids.

The crowd noise abruptly hushed. People melted away from the middle of the street like rime ice in noonday sun, clearing a path for a lone, distant figure.

I’m told in other cities, it’s kings and lords who cause that kind of upset. Not in Ninavel, so far out in the western territory of Arkennland that it takes a year’s journey to reach the king’s city. No, Ninavel is the haunt of mages, of all kinds, and ordinary men learn fast to stay out of their way.

When Lord Sechaveh first came to the Painted Valley and started building Ninavel, people thought he was crazy. Only a moonbrained old fool would try to found a city in a waterless desert, they sneered. But sly Sechaveh sent word to all the mages he could find, saying if they came to his city and helped conjure water, he’d let them do whatever they wanted. No rules, no laws, no taxes—spend time on water duty, and any other magic is fair game, no matter how dark. That promise drew mages like fire ants to peachflower honey, especially the ones who practice magic in ways forbidden elsewhere. Of course, mage talent