Chapter #6 | The Couturier Series

Chapter 6 – The Couturier | By Nikki Mahlia

The chimes outside rang like whistling bells as I pushed the door open and made my way into the dusty fabric shop. The light of dawn hadn’t cracked yet, so it was the best time for me to leave the atelier and get to Maya’s shop for some yards of tulle, gossamer, and a new pair of shears.

The mage I had left at the atelier, but I needed to start the journey to the Valley of Bones now, and he’d have to come with me if I had any intention of sparing him a glaring death.

As soon as I stepped inside, I eyed Maya in the corner, several scraps of fabric surrounding her on the counter, her face twisted with perplexity as she stared at me.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

“I need fabric.”

A light chuckle escaped her lips, then she waved her hand toward the section of tulle, as though she’d known that I came specifically for that. Maya had an uncanny way of ‘knowing’ and it hadn’t frightened me because I knew she’d been the descendant of Magic Wielders, having inherited the gift of knowing—she knew how intricate each fabric in her shop was, the exact value, and how much people were willing to pay for it.

I strutted toward the rolls of fabric, running my gloved fingers across the tulle, contemplating if I’d come too early, if I had really risked leaving a mage in the atelier all by himself. A lurking quietness overshadowed me, then I turned toward Maya, hoping that by some ancient magic, she’d seen what I wanted and had prepared it in advance … because I needed to get out of this place quickly.

“A mage was found yesterday,” she said.

“I haven’t heard of this.”

Maya nodded, then folded her lips, her eyes narrowing as she studied me with scrutiny. “A mage from the East, most likely from Chura. He has a high-profile client. Her name is Isabella. It is suspected that she perhaps was the one to uncover his secret, revealing it to the guards.”

One part of me wanted to sigh a breath of relief, almost too grateful that the mage and I hadn’t shared any clientele, but I’d heard the name before, had come across the name in Royal Registries.

“Do you know who she is?” I asked.

Maya pulled out a neatly folded gold tulle. “I think this is what you came for.”

Mages were all over the place, littering Celipha like wild weeds growing sporadically. It was too difficult to get rid of all of them, so the guards had classified them according to their magic. Maya wasn’t exactly a mage, being the descendant of Weavers, and Weavers were thought to hold very weak magic that barely threatened the existence of any of the gods.

They were willing to keep her alive if she told them what she knew, and for one minute, I dared to entertain the thought that the guards perhaps frequented her shop, paying her large sums of money for her to tell them what she knew about those who came to purchase fabric. I’d always been careful around Maya, because though I was sure my identity remained obscured around her, there was no telling what stories she made up for the guards to give her more coin.

I pulled the tulle from the counter. “Thank you,” I replied. “How much?”

“I won’t charge you this time.”

“You haven’t exactly told me what you know about Isabella.”

“She is a mage herself, but she frequents the brothels. Her father is an Ancient God, but because she is a mage he has disinherited her. She is a lucky one, for he decided to keep her alive, provided that she helped the gods spot out mages.”

“And she lives in the East?”

“The North, actually.” Maya pushed a fleck of hair away from her face.

The Valley of Bones was located North, its vast mountains cut through part of Azharan, while the other side had served as a natural wall that enclosed Xsekki.

I had to take this risk. I wasn’t sure how tactile I could be, how I would slip outside of Celipha’s gates with a mage on hand, heading toward the Valley of Bones. And I did not know if Koyrstin was willing to convince her father to meet me there, but if there was any hope, perhaps I could meet Isabella, and if I was able to, perhaps I could get her on my side. It seemed as though she easily penetrated the palaces, able to walk freely as a mage, wielding magic because her father was an Ancient God who’d found use for her. Mages were only kept alive if they were useful, and perhaps there was some sort of sorrow that dwelled within the god that prevented him from killing his own daughter.

Maya furrowed her brows, then clicked her tongue.

“Are you a mage, Izzy” she asked.

“No.” I should’ve been happy that my words were true, but it burned me that she’d asked, because she had suspected something, and she needed something to tell the guards.

I felt their unwanted presence cutting through the air, waiting for when I left to cease the opportunity to swoop in and question her. If she didn’t have an answer for them, an explanation as to why I showed up at her shop at such an ungodly hour, perhaps they would also kill her.

“I am a Reaper,” I said and I watched as her eyes widened in fear.

***

“We need to leave,” I said as I shook the mage awake. “And I haven’t learned your name.”

The mage stretched, his eyelids heavy as he pulled himself up. “It’s not morning yet.”

“It doesn’t have to be. My fabric sourcer knows that I am a Reaper and I can’t stay here.”

The mage was shocked awake. “A Reaper? Aren’t Reapers—”

“I know, but I went rogue. I left eons ago, and I am not supposed to be without loyalty to a Council—”

“But—”

“What is your name?”

The mage hesitated for a bit. “Avel.”

“Let us go. I have a coat that you can wear. While we are journeying I will get you some new trousers.”

Avel twisted his face. “Where are we going?”

“For now, I cannot say, but we will have to spend the night at Hadassah and that is a four-hour journey.”

The mage didn’t protest. Instead, he grunted, smoothing his hands against his tunic before peeling it off to replace it with a tunic and coat that I handed him. He twisted his mouth into a biting frown, a flick of an ember escaping his skin. He had trouble controlling his power, I deduced from that one motion. It was the single reason why mages were deemed so dangerous.

Their magic was controlled by their emotions and it took centuries before a mage would learn to harness his magic, properly controlling his emotions to keep it intact. He’d seemed bewildered the first time I’d met him standing outside my atelier, and the light of his embers had been an unmistakable spark of fire that would’ve burned the entire forest down had not the forest been previously spelled to suppress magic.

With what I’d gathered, he was at least four decades old, and though to a mortal, that seemed almost like ages past, to gods and aingeals he was a mere child.

“Do you feel anything?” I asked, and his lips tightened in response.

He got up, standing straight as though he hadn’t heard my question.

“You take these,” I said, handing him a bag filled with fabric. “When we get to Hadassah, I plan to set up a small make-shift shop so that I can get some coin. You are a shoemaker, so perhaps you can also help yourself as well.”

“Hadassah is at Celipha’s gate,” he stated. “If you’re planning a getaway, I am afraid that your plan may fail. The gates have been cut with runes to recognize mage magic—” he eyed me cautiously, “and runaway Reapers.”

“You want to stay here where guards are on your trail?”

“They can smell my power.”

“Not if I can help it,” I replied. It was a risk I was willing to take.

“How did you even escape the Reaper’s Council?” he questioned.

“Perhaps I may tell you on the journey, but for now, with you in my atelier and my identity known, it would not do us well to have these discussions so out loud.”

“There is nothing here but forest.” Avel pouted.

“I pity you. Do you have the bag?” I tore away a piece of paper and scribbled a note to pin underneath the khiata. Leila and Dyi would come here in a few hours expecting finished gowns, but I could not tell them where I was going, only that I would be gone for a short while.

The wind whistled, its northbound stride suddenly changing direction and the heat of the breaking dawn seeped into the atelier, cracking the skies with urgency. Magic had burned in the air, guards surrounding the perimeter of the Forest as though they had sensed us, expected us to leave, had anticipated that I would head to the north.

Avel watched carefully, his eyes pinned to me as he grabbed the bag, his grip tighter than anything imaginable. I hoped for once that the choice I’d made with Maya had been the correct one. It had been eons since I suspended my ability to read the future, to foresee the fate of those around me and myself. These days, I allowed only instinct to guide me, hoping that nature understood the pressure I was under and was happy to oblige to any indirect requests I’d made, even if most of them had been wishes buried deep into the chambers of my heart, clouded by heavy darkness that not even light could penetrate.

“There are guards around,” I said to Avel. “You have to stick close to me because I am about to cloak you and I in a glamour.”

“And the guards will not sense it?”

He was still stubbornly skeptical.

“I can’t say, but you have to trust me.”

Avel nodded, then swung the bag around his shoulder as the both of us scurried out of the atelier, Avel behind me, still clutching the neck of the bag.

If Maya had told them that I was a Reaper, I had no doubt that they followed me here. I took in a breath, then took a look at the atelier and locked the door behind me. I ran my fingers across the aged wood of the door, finding the subtle reliefs of the rune cut into the wood. With a drop of sẹda, I let light scurry across the door, sealing it shut with impenetrable magic, praying that somehow the guards, if they ever decided to enter the forest, would not come across the atelier.

Avel was a few paces in front of me now, impatience surrounding him. But mostly, he was afraid. He’d put all his hopes in a stranger he knew nothing of, and now I was dragging him away from his home, taking him to a place where magic was nullified, in a desperate attempt to meet an Ancient God, who no doubt would slaughter him if given the chance. But hope was all I had, and it was the only thing I could offer at this moment. When the last of my sẹdasoaked into the door, I quickly paced myself, two steps behind Avel.

“Let’s go,” I instructed, and Avel followed.