The Nine Bishops

It took Mika six days to travel the rest of the way out of the forest, keeping the supporting pillars of the High Road, which soared above, in sight to be sure she wouldn’t lose her way—at least as much as the terrain made that feasible. The last part of the journey was riddled with swamps, dense vegetation, and extreme changes in elevation that were tough to travel. But she persevered and learned from the experience, and by the end of the Low Road she had mastered her survival techniques and grown confident about being on her own in the wilderness.

Mika spent much of her days thinking about Nik’s words, while pondering the awkward weight of the Bishop’s medallion in her pocket. Her conversation with Nik hadn’t changed her goals; in fact, it gave her a stronger sense of direction.

What she needed next was to learn more about the tournament: Why did she need the medallion, and why was her participation so crucial? According to Nik, the tournament was two years away, so there was plenty of time to prepare. Two years seemed like an eternity to Mika, especially when, right now, she was just trying to survive from one meal to the next.

Though her magic skills had improved, her control was still marginal. After successfully fighting off the bandits, Mika hoped she’d turned the corner. But she still struggled to control her magic. She seemed able to use it without unwanted consequences only during traumatic events. At any other time, using it sent a jolt of pain to her head. The only reason she seemed able to fill her canteen, despite the pain, was that having water was tied to her survival. Worse, she had no idea what she was doing wrong. Every step forward seemed to be followed by two steps back.

Throughout Mika’s secret education, she had never read anything about magic. The only thing she knew was from observing the circus mages. She noticed that the mages got tired after using magic, the way athletes feel tired after a physical workout. Mika thought that if she kept practicing, it would all get better. But by the end of the trip, she felt things had only become worse.

About noon on the sixth day, Mika saw a parting in the trees up ahead. It was hard to know exactly how far she had traveled, but it had to be well over two hundred kilometers.

Mika knew she was closing in on her destination when she noticed the colossal High Road beginning to descend to ground level. For the most part she’d stayed within a kilometer of the pillars. She’d noticed the slow descent beginning a couple of days earlier. Now, the High Road was no more than fifty meters above her.

As she reached the point where the two routes met, Mika saw the track becoming a hard-surfaced highway, the first official road she had seen since she began walking the Low Road. At that moment she realized: I’m Home.

A wave of relief was followed by a wave of sadness, as she remembered Sam and what he had sacrificed to bring her to this point. Her uncle would have been proud of what she had accomplished on her own. Years of hard work, saving, and dreaming—and then her own determination and wits—had gotten her here. Though this spot was nothing special, Mika savored the moment.

She pulled out the map Sam had given her and oriented herself to her position. According to the map, Summerhall was the closest city, exactly what Nik had told her. It was about five kilometers away. Without hesitating any further, Mika stored her map in her pack, put her feet on the new road, and set an enthusiastic pace towards Summerhall.

About halfway there, she started to encounter other travelers—mostly mages, given the way they dressed and conducted themselves. The mages walked with their chests held high and made eye contact with each other. The few Filth she saw were always accompanying a mage, usually carrying or towing the mage’s belongings. They avoided looking at others. However, everyone—mage and Filth alike—stared at Mika as she passed by. The Filth looked at her curiously, while the mages’ expression was more one of disbelief. Mika did her best to ignore their gazes, but she was perplexed by being received so strangely.

She looked down at her hands and clothing, then touched her hair, and suddenly realized, to her own disgust, that she probably looked horrific. She’d been living in the wild, wading through swamps and sleeping on the ground, without so much as a bath or a chance to change her clothes. She was filthy from head to toe. Her clothes were in abysmal condition, ripped in many places and stained after a fall into a swamp. Her tan shirt was now a dark brown. She also had scabbed-over scratches all over her body. Her skin had been darkened by grime and sun. I probably smell awful to boot, she thought.

Others Mika passed didn’t look as hard-traveled. They wore fine clothes and for the most part looked as if they’d been out taking a leisurely stroll. Most likely, she thought, they were residents of local towns or had just come off the High Road, with its creature comforts. Mika saw no one else who had obviously been walking the Low Road.

Had the mages recognized her as a Filth, she thought, they might not have been so shocked. But it seemed that because of the necklace she wore, all they could see was a mage—a disheveled mage, but a mage nevertheless. Since it was unheard of for a mage to travel the Low Road, Mika now understood the reason for the disapproving stares. She would just have to endure them until she could do something about her appearance.

Finally, Summerhall loomed in the distance. It was a modest-looking city, not as big or as beautiful as Zanark, but still significantly more attractive than the average city in Southie. The buildings were all made of stone, the streets neatly paved.

Mika had used her time alone to devise an initial plan of action. First, she would go to a bank to consolidate her money. After almost two weeks of travel, the weight of carrying all her bronze had made Mika’s muscles sore. What’s more, she needed to act more like a mage Home, and exchanging her money would help.

Second, she’d need to find a tailor and buy a decent set of clothes, respectable enough for an interview at one of the mages’ guilds. With her old clothes looking so abysmal, she’d need something new in any case.

Third, she was going to go to an inn, where she could wash, get her first proper hot meal in a long time, and finally get a good night’s sleep. She had survived, but she was famished, filthy, and exhausted. Mika needed a full day’s rest before continuing on to Monsoon.

The fourth and final task was just that: getting to Monsoon. That was where all of the public guilds were located. That was the home of the War Eagles’ guild. It was the destination she’d had in mind since the beginning, even before all her misfortunes. Mika didn’t know how long it would take to reach it. She knew she was capable of any travel on her feet, if it came to that. But that was a worst-case scenario. After all, she still had the Bishop’s medallion in her pocket, and that she could always rely on, according to Nik, though she did not understand why.

As Mika entered Summerhall, she tried to be unobtrusive and kept to the edges of the street to avoid more hostile looks. Most buildings, she noticed, bore signs that said “No Filth,” the words crossed out in red. Mika had never seen such signs before.

She saw Filth standing idly outside some of these buildings, particularly the stores—obviously waiting for the mages they served. She was beginning to conclude that the Filth in the east acted more as servants than workers. Despite their subordination, some were better dressed than many of the mages Mika had seen in her old life. She thought that might be a good indicator of the wealth and power of the mage they served.

After getting lost briefly, Mika finally found a bank, which was distinguished from other buildings by the royal seal inscribed on its façade. The bank in Summerhall was beautiful compared to the one Mika had seen in Zanark. It featured large stone pillars, with the royal seal carved into each pillar.

The royal seal was a series of five vertical lines and five horizontal lines crossing each other. The two outside lines were short, the next two lines were longer, and the single line in the middle was the longest. The lines formed an inverted square. Mika had never seen the royal seal in a color rendering, but she had heard it was quite beautiful.

Uneasy about her appearance, Mika ascended the flight of steps leading to the large wooden doors of the bank. She’d never been in a bank, but she had seen drawings of them. Entering, she drew in her breath at the sight of its fine marble floor and elegant furniture in dark wood. There was a massive central counter where three mages were scribbling away on parchment in separate booths. The whole room was spotless, even sterile, and this made Mika feel even more awkward about being so dirty. Fortunately, the only people present in the bank were the clerks.

Mika slowly approached one of the male clerks, who was furiously writing something with his quill pen. Mika walked up to the counter and waited for him to look up. But for a long moment he did not even acknowledge she was there.

“Umm … I would like to exchange some of my coin,” Mika said, finally mustering the courage to speak. The clerk did not look up and continued to ignore her. Mika wondered what she should say to gain his attention, but after a long, awkward pause, the clerk finally sighed and said: “Leave the coin you would like to exchange on the counter.”

Mika hesitantly pulled out the bag that contained all her coin, heavy with almost one thousand bronze inside. Mika dropped the bag on the counter with a thud. As soon as it hit the counter, the clerk said: “One thousand and fifty-six bronze. How would you like that exchanged?” His head remained bent to his work.

Mika hadn’t known exactly how much money was in her bag. She was astonished he’d counted it so quickly—and without even looking at the bag. She wasn’t sure how to answer his question, so she asked the clerk what he’d recommend. After another sigh, this one more annoyed, he replied:

“I can give you eight silver, four silver halves, two quarter silver, and six bronze.”

As he continued to scribble away on the parchment in front of him, Mika agreed.

The clerk stopped writing for the first time since she’d entered the bank, only long enough to grab another piece of parchment on which to write. He finished with a crisp, audible signature stroke and slid it to Mika, before returning to his previous work. Still without making eye contact, the clerk said: “That is your receipt. You can take your bag with your exchanged coin. Thank you for your patronage.”

The tone implied he was done with this transaction. Unsure of what had just transpired, Mika grabbed her bag of coin, which hadn’t moved since she dropped it on the counter. Shockingly, it now felt very light. Mika gave the bag a shake and could hear the jingle of a handful of coins. She was dumbfounded; she had never seen magic so remarkable.

The whole interaction had been awkward, but Mika had managed to exchange her coin hassle-free. She made her way out of the bank while reading her receipt, which simply denoted how many of each coin she had exchanged, with a signature at the bottom. Mika was glad none of the bank clerks had even looked up. She could never have guessed it might go so well.

Now she was ready to look for a tailor. All of the clothing shops she’d passed had made her feel uneasy. They all had displays of clothing that were way out of Mika’s price range, and all boasted the No Filth signs. She was loath to spend too much on clothes since she still needed to pay for her inn stay and journey to Monsoon. Pondering this, she remembered the medallion in her pocket. She could have anything with that medallion, but she heeded Nik’s advice not to use it for something so trivial.

Mika wandered up and down all the streets in Summerhall without deciding on a clothing store. Feeling discouraged, she began to think she might have to wait until she got to Monsoon to buy new clothes. But on her way back to an inn that looked promising, she noticed a store tucked away in an alleyway that she’d missed the first time she passed this way.

A sign outside the shop read: “Mortys’ Secondhand Apparel,” and it was the first she’d seen without a No Filth notice. She had a good feeling about it.

A tiny bell rang as she entered the store, which was dimly lit and crowded with racks of clothing, some stacked in high piles that left only narrow passageways. At first, no one appeared, but at the tinkle of the bell, voices came from somewhere in the recesses of the store.

“Morty, someone’s here,” an old man’s voice croaked.

“I know. I heard it, Morty,” another old voice replied. Mika wondered if she’d heard correctly; it seemed two different voices had called each other by the same name.

After a moment, she noticed racks of clothing in the back being jiggled and two sets of feet shuffling their way up to the front of the store. Eventually, two old men with hunched backs appeared. Both were shorter than Mika, with frail white hair. The men looked almost identical, except that one had straight hair and the other’s was a messy tangle.

“Welcome to Mortys’. I am Morty, and this is my brother Morty. How can I help you, my dear?” the one with the messy hair asked.

“She is a mage, you dimwit. I’m the one that is supposed to talk to her,” retorted the straight-haired Morty.

Messy-haired Morty shot straight-haired Morty a confused look. “A mage? Mages don’t shop here, you fool. Plus, look at her: she doesn’t look like a mage. So get your eyes checked out, you old croak,” he snapped.

“My eyes are fine, you idiot. She is a mage, I’m telling you!” exclaimed straight-haired Morty. Messy-haired Morty squinted at the disheveled girl before him.

“Are you a mage, my dear?”

Mika nodded with a smile, trying to stifle her urge to laugh.

“Hot diggity, Morty. I told you!” yelled straight-haired Morty.

“How am I supposed to know? You’re the mage here! Now I look like a fool, when really you are the fool!” messy-haired Morty scolded. Turning back to Mika, he said with great deference, “I am terribly sorry, my dear, my brother will be the one to help you,” all while attempting to bow, at least as far as his crooked back would allow. He then grabbed his brother and shoved him forward.

Mika, no longer able to conceal her amusement, chuckled and said, “I don’t care which one of you help me.”

The brothers looked at each other and then back at Mika. Straight-haired Morty said, “My dear, there is no need to be so polite, it was our mistake. My brother can stand in the back if you would like.”

“Why would he have to do that?” Mika asked, confused.

They looked at each other again and back at Mika. “I told you she was no mage!” messy-haired Morty said, laughing into his brother’s face.

“I am a mage!” Mika blurted out, not understanding why they weren’t convinced by her necklace. She touched the stone, worried that something was wrong with it. The brothers stopped arguing and gaped at Mika. Not trying to contribute further to their suspicion, Mika asked, “Why do you think I am not a mage?” truly wondering how they could see through her.

The brothers looked at each other again.

“There are many reasons why, my dear,” straight-haired Morty said gently. “No disrespect, but you look like you were out playing in the mud. Secondly, you just walked into our shop. No mage ever comes into our shop. Finally, you haven’t said one rude thing to my brother, after he was so … colloquial with you.”

“Why would I ever say something rude to him? He has been nothing but kind to me.”

“My dear, even you should know that my brother is a Filth. We may look the same because we are twins, but I was born with magic and he … wasn’t,” straight-haired Morty said.

Mika hadn’t thought for a second that either one of the men could be Filth. They owned a store together. In Southie, Filth owned nothing, so Mika had assumed the same was true of Home. She also had no idea that a mage and a Filth could be born into the same family, let alone as twins.

It was now abundantly clear to Mika that she had no innate sense of what distinguished the two, and that she’d have to be very careful about that in future. Her only option now was to talk her way out of this situation.

“Filth or not, you said you were the owner of a store and I was going to treat you as such. As for my appearance, I apologize. I have just got back from some … misfortunate travel, and I’m in dire need of clothes, since I have nothing but what’s on my back.” That much at least she could say genuinely.

The brothers looked at each other one more time, nodded in unison, and got to work.

“We will take your measurements and get you the clothes you deserve,” messy-haired Morty said.

The men moved towards Mika and began measuring Mika’s height, waist, arms, legs, and feet. Working as a team, they moved around her, blurting out numbers that made no sense to her. Moments later, they disappeared into the racks in search of the right clothing. When they emerged triumphantly a few minutes later, they were carrying two sets of clothes and a pair of shoes finer than she thought she could possibly afford.

The clothes were not the typical mage attire that Mika had expected. They were more casual than formal, and they suited Mika perfectly. The two long-sleeve blouses were the same, but different in color: one black and one tan. The shirts were made from a very nice fabric that was moisture-wicking. The trousers were different: one gray, sporting a lot of pockets, and the other brown, more for comfort than practical wear. The shoes were leather and had fine soles. They were made for travel and of a quality that surprised Mika.

“This is for you,” straight-haired Morty said, as he handed Mika the clothing they’d gathered. “These items will fit you perfectly, so no need to try them on now. I guarantee you that, because we are the best in the business,” he said with a proud smile.

“We also figured you are in dire need of new shoes. These will complement your clothing and last you a long time,” messy Morty said, presenting the shoes with a flourish.

The whole process had happened so quickly Mika wasn’t prepared. Judging by the fine quality of the clothes they had gathered for her, Mika guessed the total to be more than thirty silver; the shoes alone probably cost more than fifteen!

“I can’t afford this,” Mika said, saddened by having to reject the beautiful items.

“Which is why you don’t have to. Pay us what you think is fair,” messy-haired Morty said.

Mika was at a loss for words. How could she accept such a kind offer?

“After how you treated my brother, we have no problem parting with our finest clothes. A mage as young, beautiful, and kind as you can make a difference in the world, of that I am certain,” straight-haired Morty said with a smile.

Mika felt tears springing to her eyes, joyful ones for once. Her journey had been filled with so much sorrow and grief to this point that she felt utterly unprepared for such kindness. She shakily reached for her coin purse as tears streamed down her face. She took out five silver and handed them to messy-haired Morty, who didn’t even look down at what she’d given him. He simply smiled and mouthed the words thank you.

Mika slowly made her way to the door, beautiful clothes in hand. As she turned back to say thank-you to the Mortys, they smiled and waved goodbye with a wish for good luck on her travels. And with a ring of the bell, Mika was out of the store and headed toward the inn. All her plans were falling into place perfectly—and unexpectedly.

On her arrival at the inn, Mika felt the curious eyes of other patrons who happened to be sitting in the main hall, as they looked her up and down. Avoiding small talk with the innkeeper, she asked straightaway for a room for one night, a bath, and a hot meal. She paid in advance, parting ways with three silver.

After a short wait, the innkeeper showed Mika to her room. Finally, the privacy she was craving after the unaccustomed crowds of Summerhall! Her food and bath were waiting for her when she got there, so she filled her belly with the best meal she’d eaten in weeks and washed away the grime that had saturated her skin.

For the first time in a long time, Mika felt happy. Despite spending almost all of her coin in one day, she had accomplished everything she needed to. She knew she could manage with the funds she had left, so for once she wasn’t too worried about the future.

At last, she tucked herself into the comfortable bed and fell asleep almost immediately, feeling peaceful.

Ironically, she found no peace in her dreams. She only found death.