Shadow by Will Elliott Page A

the rest of your entourage?’ said Blain to Thaun when they had left. He got slowly to his feet and drew his plain coat over the shifting colours of his Strategist’s robe.
    â€˜They are back at the inn, Strategist.’
    â€˜They still live?’
    â€˜Most of them,’ said Evelle, smiling.
    â€˜Well let’s go and see if they’re useful. Take me there. You!’ He pointed at Kiown. ‘You’re not here for your brains. Or your looks. Carry me.’

MIGHTY WIZARD OF THE TOWER
    1
    While they walked Eric watched the ground before him. Some parts of the sky’s lightstone hung lower than others; some grew brighter than others. Right now, Siel’s shadow was faint. But Eric indeed had none at all. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, wishing she could take her own advice. It worried her a great deal. ‘There must be an explanation for it.’
    â€˜Like what, pray tell?’ he said.
    â€˜Sometimes spells go wrong. Little effects linger in the air. You can step into something you don’t even see, and it’s almost like you’ve been cast on.’
    He scoffed. ‘Look, are you telling me some wizard out there tried to remove his own shadow and missed, but the spell kind of blew around on the breeze until I walked through it?’
    She shrugged. ‘It’s not common. There aren’t enough mages left for it to be common. Nor is the effect always what the wizard intended. We have been exposed to many strange events, magic effects at play in them. And yes, things are possible which are stranger than losing a shadow. People have died from loose effects. Or been changed for life. There is a famous story of a man who had amazing luck for the rest of his life.’
    â€˜All I know is, every time I think I get used to this fucking place—’
    â€˜I will listen to your complaint, Otherworld Prince. But it’s my turn next.’
    â€˜Forget it.’
    In big loping strides Gorb led them down an incline until they found a path winding north-east through puffy green thickets and woodland. In it large star-shaped flowers slowly dripped clear sap like tear-drops. Birds made inquiring sounds from the trees. ‘Hey Gorb, can I have my weapon back?’ said Eric.
    â€˜Nope,’ said Gorb, not turning around. ‘Not till I know I can trust you. Which may take a while.’
    Siel whispered, ‘He’s lying about the dolls. He didn’t make them.’
    â€˜How do you know?’
    â€˜I saw something as we left. A glimpse, I think it was recent past. A man being led through the village as though he were captive. I think it was an Engineer.’
    â€˜A what?’
    â€˜People who make devices using magic.’
    â€˜They’re mages?’
    â€˜No. Rarer. No one teaches them their trade, they are born with it and can do nothing else useful. They sometimes come away from the cities to collect airs for their works. These people must have captured one. If the city he or she came from finds out, the people of this village are in deep trouble.’ Almost on cue there came a banging noise from back at the village. It was unmistakeably the Glock firing.
    â€˜What was that?’ said Gorb, looking back with alarm.
    â€˜Car backfiring,’ Eric muttered.
    â€˜Give me a moment,’ said Siel, ducking off the road.
    2
    She was used to bathing and peeing in front of travelling companions, but like beds and baths, privacy was a luxury to grab with both hands when on offer. Now she slipped off the path and through trunks spaced like a natural avenue, went deeper in until the road could not be seen through the messy lattice of tree branches. She set down her bow and quill, crouched with her back to a tree trunk. There was hardly a sound but for the now mournful birdsong. The woods smelled clean and there were tracks from game all over the ground.
    What an idyllic life this must be, she thought, when bandits are