‘Summon the rage, bend her to your will,’ said Mogget. ‘As for your escape, if Aziminil is strong enough she can become a vessel to take you out through the waterfall.’
‘Out through the waterfall?’ asked Clariel.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mogget. ‘Az will know how, but it will be a question of strength, for the waterfall is mighty indeed. Aziminil alone may not suffice. You could need more than one of the prisoners to take you through. But one or two or three, you can command them. You have the power within you, fuelled by your rage.’
‘Only for a short time,’ said Clariel. ‘What happens afterwards, when I am weak?’
‘Have them swear when you first hold them in your sway,’ said Mogget, his eyes alight, his claws out. ‘You can fix them then, make them serve you no matter whether you are weak or not, awake or not, unconscious …’
‘There is no way they can turn against me?’ asked Clariel.
‘Any bond will weaken over time,’ said Mogget. ‘But it can be made anew.’
‘I have always heard it said that Free Magic creatures are inimical to life,’ said Clariel. She was excited by the prospect of freedom, but cautious too. ‘What exactly does that mean?’
Mogget did not answer immediately, choosing instead to lick one of his paws with intense interest.
‘Mogget! What does it mean, that Free Magic creatures are inimical to life?’
‘Bah! An exaggeration,’ said Mogget. He hesitated for a moment, twisting his neck as if his collar had caught on something, before adding more quietly, ‘I suppose it is true that their substance, the manifestation of their flesh, is corrosive to living things. But it can be contained, avoided, taken care of in numerous ways. Why, the Abhorsens use a kind of Free Magic all the time, in their bells and spells in Death. They used to use it more freely still. You would be no different.’
Clariel nodded. She’d been wondering how Kilp and Aronzo had survived if Aziminil really was so dangerous. They hadn’t even bound her to their service; she had just agreed to serve them. That didn’t sound like a creature ‘inimical’ to all life.
Against that, though, she had to balance the fact that her mother had died fighting against the very idea of working with a Free Magic creature. Jaciel had even slain one before who had assumed the shape of her brother. But then, Clariel thought, Jaciel was not like other people. She never compromised; she would not depart from her chosen path, no matter what. Perhaps if she had talked to Kilp, taken the more sensible approach, then she would still be alive, and Harven too, and Clariel would be on her way to Estwael …
Clariel shook her head. There was no point in thinking over might-have-beens. She had to work out what to do now, deal with the situation as it was.
‘If a Free Magic creature’s touch is corrosive, how can Aziminil take me through the waterfall?’
‘The swift water will lessen the effect,’ said Mogget.
‘Lessen?’ asked Clariel. ‘That doesn’t sound very good. Is there anything else I can do? I remember Kargrin said something about the Abhorsens having special robes …’
Again, Mogget was slow to answer. It looked to Clariel as if he was struggling with a desire not to answer at all, or perhaps to lie. Even though he was a cat, she’d seen merchants behave similarly, shifting where they looked, hunching their shoulders, even nervously clawing at their collars, as Mogget was doing …
‘There are garments, robes, masks and suchlike that provide protection for a time,’ said Mogget. ‘For when the Abhorsens used to deal more closely with their prisoners. There should be some such stuff below.’
‘Should be?’ asked Clariel. ‘I’m not risking a “should be”. And what does “for a time” mean?’
‘They are there,’ said Mogget grumpily. ‘Old, but serviceable. I presume you would not be able to renew the marks within them?’
‘No,’ said Clariel shortly.
‘Then once put in use, they will fail at the next full moon.’
‘Which is in about five days, I think,’ said Clariel, counting on her fingers. There had been a half moon when she slept in the forest, the night before last. ‘Not long. If Aziminil can take me through a waterfall, can she also move me swiftly? To fly like a Paperwing or become some sort of mount? I need to be in Belisaere as soon as I can. I have to rescue my aunt. And kill Kilp and Aronzo.’
‘Free Magic can shape itself to almost any need,’ said Mogget. ‘Swift travel, unseen passage, impenetrable armour, unbreakable weapons … It will all be at your command. You simply will whatever is needful.’
Clariel thought of that, for a moment. Sorcery that did not need laboriously memorised Charter marks, learned over years, or the disorienting plunge into the Charter … simply to will something, to use raw power. It was a heady temptation. But she must be careful …
‘What if I need to imprison Aziminil again,’ said Clariel. ‘I can’t do it with Charter Magic, I do not have the skill or knowledge. Could I force her into a bottle and secure it just by the force of my will?’
‘You could,’ said Mogget. ‘As I said, I can tell you have the strength. You remind me of some of the earlier Abhorsens, who had much to do with Free Magic entities.’
‘You remind me of one of mother’s apprentices,’ said Clariel. ‘All flattery and guile. You said you would help me for love of mischief, and maybe more … and I see you think it is more. What do you hope to gain?’
‘Freedom,’ whispered Mogget. ‘Freedom from my enslavement.’
‘You mean you want me to take your collar off?’
‘Only the Abhorsen can remove my collar,’ said Mogget. ‘And the Abhorsen has the means to put it back on again. I need some greater manumission.’
‘So how will you helping me forward your ambition?’
‘A small stone cast from a hilltop may dislodge larger stones,’ said Mogget with a sly glance. ‘And the larger stones may move great … stones … and then the whole hillside might come tumbling down.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Clariel.
‘That things change, and an opportunity might present itself that otherwise would not,’ said Mogget, his tail twisting around almost as much as his words.
‘And what would you do with your freedom?’ asked Clariel.
‘Who can say?’ replied Mogget evasively. ‘But I would no longer be a prisoner, no longer a slave. I think you understand that, do you not?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Clariel. ‘But I am not sure I should think of you as I would a person enslaved.’
‘Why not?’ asked the affronted cat. ‘Am I a piece of furniture? A block of wood?’
‘I do need your help,’ said Clariel. ‘But I won’t do anything actively to release you. There must be a reason you are bound to serve the Abhorsens.’
‘Reasons can always be found to bind a slave,’ said Mogget sulkily. He turned away to plonk down in the middle of the table, addressing Clariel over his shoulder. ‘You have found some for yourself, after all.’
‘I suppose I have,’ whispered Clariel. She was thinking about that, and what she might do with Aziminil after she had freed Aunt Lemmin and set matters to rights. The creature had been in Belisaere for months without killing people and causing trouble, surely there would be some way to set her free, somewhere she could exist without being hunted by Charter Mages and, at the same time, offer no threat to ordinary people?
‘Where is –’ Clariel started to ask Mogget, but she stopped as the cowled sending stepped off the top of the stair and slid over to her side, offering several cloths, a dish of water and a small bottle of hartshorn.
Clariel scrubbed slowly at her hands and wondered how she could distract the sending again. But as she scrubbed, Mogget got up and came over to her, and jumped into her lap. She flinched, but he felt just like any normal cat, even to the extent of him shifting around to get comfortable, not bothering that his claws were doing the precise opposite to Clariel.
When he was settled, Mogget leaned forward and
dipped one extended claw in the inkwell. Then he wrote on the paper, in very small, perfectly formed letters.