Chapter 4
Four
Iwalked with the Latros across the Under Slump to the nearest bridge, and we began our long, spiraling climb up to the Slump. I went unarmed, a feeling I very much disliked, but I’d been told to leave my weapons and magic behind, to avoid any misunderstandings. It had not been a suggestion.
The constant shade kept it dim and damp in the Under Slump.
Out here, the sun was shining, but it remained freezing cold due to the bitter wind.
It was even snowing a bit. As a native of Fogo, I’d been astounded the first time I’d seen snow.
The idea of frozen fluffy water bits falling from the sky had been incredible to me.
It was like an ash storm that wouldn’t burn your skin off.
That first snow storm of mine was a fun experience, and I’d run into it with Azarin, who’d thought me a silly fool as I’d slid about, but she had still been entertained by my antics.
I’d even stuck my tongue out and eaten some of the falling snowflakes.
They tasted like water. You sure couldn’t do that in an ash storm!
Little had I realized that winter meant it would keep snowing and snowing, over and over, for months, until I got sick of the miserable, slick white shit piling up everywhere.
The two seasons I’d experienced thus far in the Core had been awful.
The next one was called spring, which everyone assured me was much nicer.
I’d believe that when I saw it. For now, I kept my cloak wrapped tight around me and my hood up to protect my ears from frostbite—which was not a medical condition I’d been familiar with before coming here.
Even though the magic which had kept the Slump suspended in the air for thousands of years was slowly dying, and the whole neighborhood was gradually sinking and threatening to crush the Under Slump beneath it to death, on the bright side, having an entire district as a roof kept most of the snow off our heads.
Out here, that wasn’t the case, and with a lot more ice collected on the bridges, several times, I slipped on the nasty stuff.
That caused the Latros surrounding me to laugh at my misfortune. “Stupid hotlander,” said one. “How can you walk across lava but not on a little dusting of snow?”
“We wait for the lava to cool enough to form a solid crust first. Failure to do so, we call that the old pegleg surprise.”
They laughed at that. I might be slipping and sliding to my demise, but it couldn’t hurt to try and stay on friendly terms with the resident gang.
Despite basically being a captive, I was in relatively good spirits.
Realistically, if Carcalla wanted me dead, the deed would already be done, and he wouldn’t have had his men put on this show of force for our benefit.
Oh, I was certain I wasn’t being dragged to his lair for any good reasons, as I was surely about to be extorted and threatened, but my murder was unlikely, provided I didn’t piss him off.
Joran was far ahead at the front of the black-banded group.
Everyone else using this narrow high road was quick to get out of our way.
Even wagons and carts pulled aside for us and waited respectfully when they saw that Carcalla’s men were out.
The Latrocinium weren’t overtly threatening.
They didn’t need to be. By reputation alone, they controlled these streets.
“So why do they call him the Cutter?” I asked the same Latro.
“On account of how many people Joran cut up in the arena, I suppose.”
That wasn’t an unexpected revelation, but I’d been hoping that maybe there’d been a more innocuous reason for the title. Like he enjoyed cutting delicious cakes to serve to his guests.
“What rank is he?”
“Joran ain’t no mage, hotlander. He hunts mages for sport.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought by now everybody in the Slumps knew of Cutter Joran’s trick,” said the Latro wizard walking behind me. “Magic don’t work on him.”
That made no sense. Even from here, I could see he was wearing several enchanted charms, and because of my affinity to the element, I could even tell a few were imbued with Red. “He’s got magic on him right now.”
“Sure. Protections that turn on automatic against incoming bullet or blade, but he can’t use magic himself, and magic can’t affect him. It makes him right deadly against our kind.”
Nulls were a rare thing indeed. Overwhelmingly, most intelligent beings tested as zeros.
Which meant they couldn’t work magic themselves, but spells worked on them for good or ill, and they could use enchanted items if they were simple enough.
Through practice and exercise, zeros could grow their magical abilities.
For example, the first time I’d been tested, I’d been a zero, and after a few years of illicit practice with stolen element, I’d tested again as a rank one.
I’d been trying ever since to master more spells in the hopes of reaching rank two.
Individuals blessed by the saints were born possessing more natural magical abilities, and might test as high as three or four, even without any training.
But Nulls were something else entirely. I’d read about them in the encyclopedia.
They went the opposite direction of everyone else, born less than a zero, in that magic simply wouldn’t touch them at all.
It was a double-edged sword; they could never learn magic, but they were also immune to its effects.
They couldn’t be strengthened or healed by the Green or Blue, but they also couldn’t be burned by Red, hurled by Clear, or slain by Black.
In a city ruled by wizards, I could see how a Null would be so valuable.
I made a note that if I ever had to fight Cutter Joran to just shoot him…
Except, apparently, defensive charms could still place their shields around a Null.
I’d have to ponder on how best to kill him, and in the meantime hope I wouldn’t need to.
But he’d also sort of threatened to sell my girlfriend into slavery, so I really wanted to.