Aurian

13 A Solstice Gift

Aurian leaned back in her chair and took another pull at her flagon of ale. “I’m still astonished that Miathan has accepted the fact that you and I are lovers—especially after—” She stopped abruptly, biting her lip. She had never dared to tell Forral about Miathan’s attack on her. “If he was only pretending to approve, I think the facade would have slipped by now, but after almost four months . . .” She shrugged. “Admittedly I haven’t see much of him lately—he’s busy with some pet project of his own—but when I do, he’s as kindly as ever. And the way he turns a blind eye to you sleeping at the Academy with me, and defends us from the other Magefolk—” She broke off with a sigh.

“This unpleasantness with Meiriel is still bothering you, isn’t it?” Forral prompted.

“I can’t help it, Forral. I don’t mind about the others— Eliseth and Bragan were always rotten to the core, not to mention Davorshan—but Meiriel ... I would never have believed she could be so prejudiced! She had even refused to teach me any more until Miathan intervened and made her continue my lessons. It’s awful to lose a friend like this, but not even Finbarr can talk her round.”

“Never mind, love.” Forral covered her hand with his own. “If she wants to be like that, there’s notning we can do about it. If she had been any sort of friend in the first place, she would be glad for you.”

“That’s what Anvar said.” Aurian managed a smile. “He’s come a long way from that terrified creature we rescued last Solstice. You must admit, I was right about him.”

“You were indeed, and I’m glad. He turned out to be a good lad, Aurian, despite what Miathan said about him.”

“I wonder about that.” Aurian frowned. “He does a mar-velous job of looking after me, but he rarely smiles, and he’s still terrified of the Archmage, although he won’t tell me why. What’s more, he won’t talk about his past, his family—anything. I’d like to help.him—he always looks so unhappy—but how can I if he won’t trust me?” She glowered into her beer. “Gods, how I hate mysteries.”

It was Solstice Eve, and the two of them had started the seasonal celebrations early with a visit to the Invisible Unicorn. Conveniently close to the Garrison, the tavern was the favorite haunt of the off-duty troopers. The long, low taproom was shabby but homely with its ceiling of sturdy, lamp-hung beams and huge arched fireplace of red brick that always housed a welcoming blaze. The once white walls were mellowed by a patina of smoke, and the floor was covered with a thick layer of sawdust to soak up spilled ale and the blood from the occasional rowdy brawls that were overlooked—usually—by the tolerant landlord. The company was good, and the beer was excellent. It was one of Aurian’s favorite places, but tonight she had too much on her mind to be able to relax and enjoy herself.

Forral reached over and topped up their beer from the big pewter jug on the table. “You can’t really blame the lad, you know. It must be terrible to be a bondservant, even with the kindest of mistresses. He’s lost his family and future—and supposing he had a girl before? What would have happened to her? Gods, this bonding is barbaric!”

It was a sore point with Forral, one over which he had clashed repeatedly but unsuccessfully with the other Council members, especially the Archmage, during the past year. “But if Anvar won’t confide in you, what can you do?” he added, “After rescuing him the way you did, I find it odd that he won’t trust you, at least.” The swordsman frowned. “You’re right, though—it’s strange how Miathan hates him. The other servants are beneath his notice.” Seeing Aurian’s gloomy face, he sought to lighten her mood. “Don’t worry about it now, love. It’s Solstice Eve, and we should be enjoying ourselves, I’ll tell you what—why don’t I take Anvar out with me tonight while you’re at the Mages’ Feast? I wish you didn’t have to go to the damned thing, but we’ll have our own celebration later. And it might cheer that poor lad of yours up to get out with me and the troops.”

Aurian brightened. “That’s a kind thought, Forral. I’ll tell Elewin when I go back to the Academy. There are always enough servants in attendance at the Feast, so Anvar won’t be missed. I wish I could come with you, but I daren’t risk upsetting Miathan—not when we’re on such shaky ground with the Magefolk. Anyway, Finbarr and I have a plan to cheer up D’arvan tonight—he could use the company. He’s had a rough time of it this year, what with his brother joining Eliseth’s clique—and there is still no sign of his powers surfacing, and Miathan is looking on him with greater disapproval every day. I suspect that Eliseth is trying to persuade the Archmage to get rid of him, so that she can have Davorshan to herself. It’s a blessing that D’arvan has made some friends at the Garrison— Maya, especially—but at the Academy he’s becoming increasingly isolated. I do feel sorry for him.”

“More good deeds, eh?” Forral chuckled, but she saw the gleam of pride in his eyes, and knew that he approved,

“Well, it is the season of goodwill and all that,” Aurian made a face. “I think I had better start fortifying myself. Is there any of that beer left?”

Anvar sat alone on his bunk in the servants’ dormitory, playing a mournful air on the little wooden flute that his grandfather had carved for him so long ago. It was the only one of his instruments that he’d been able to bring with him to the Academy, and oh, how he missed them! Elewin, at the Lady Aurian’s request, had excused him from serving at the Feast, and while he appreciated her kindness in giving him the holiday, what was the point? He had nowhere to go. As usual, at this time of year, his thoughts were with the loved ones he had lost-Grandpa and his mother—and Safa.^who was equally lost to him now. Trying unsuccessfully to put them out of his mind, Anvar played on, merging his loneliness with the achingly sad notes of Grandpa’s flute.

Suddenly the door was flung open, and Commander Forral stood there. “There you are!” he said, “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing here all alone, lad? Aurian has to attend the Feast tonight, so we thought you might fancy keeping me company while I have a few beers with the lads and lasses from the Garrison.”

He tugged the astonished Anvar to his feet, barely giving him time to snatch his cloak from its peg on the wall. Its threadbare appearance stopped Forral in his tracks. “What’s this?” he said, frowning^ “You can’t go out in that dishrag, lad.

It’s snowing! Here—” He unclasped his own thick, weatherproof soldier’s cloak and draped it round Anvar’s shoulders, kicking the offending old garment under the bunk. “That’s better. It suits you too, us being about the same height and all. I know—you keep it. A Solstice gift, for looking after Aurian so well. I’ve a spare in her room, so we’ll just go and get it, then we can be off.”

Anvar was overwhelmed. This was his second Solstice at the Academy, and in all that time, no one had ever given him a gift. Swallowing hard, he tried to stammer his thanks, and Forral clapped him on the shoulder in a comradely fashion.

“Not at all, lad. You deserve it. Now let’s get off to the tavern. There’s good ale just begging to be appreciated, and it’s our duty to do our share!”

Anvar had a wonderful time at the Invisible Unicorn. The troops from the Garrison were full of Solstice cheer, and the talk and laughter and ale flowed in equal quantities. Then someone discovered that Anvar could sing, and a battered old guitar was borrowed from its usual decorative place on the wall, despite feeble protests from the long-suffering landlord. The pleasure of playing a real instrument soon overcame Anvar’s diffidence about performing, and the troops joined in with great enthusiasm. Soon the walls were ringing to the sound of rowdy, bawdy barrack-room ballads whose general subject matter and volume soon sent the tavern’s more sobersided customers scurrying for home. The4andlord, noticing the rate at which his ale kegs were emptying, had long ago ceased to object.

All too soon, the evening had flown and everyone said farewell. Reluctantly Anvar hung the borrowed guitar back on the wall. It took several attempts, because he couldn’t see which of the two nails was the real one and couldn’t hit, either. He and Forral made their unsteady way back to the Academy through the crisp new snow, leaning against each other at an acute angle with their arms draped round one another’s shoulders. They each carried a large bottle of wine in their free hands and sang as they went on their way, trading rude folk ballads for scurrilous soldiers’ songs, and threatening to awaken the entire city with their noise. Anvar didn’t care. Tonight, for once, he was truly enjoying himself.

Meiriel was not enjoying the Mages’ Feast. She swirled the meager ration of wine around in the bottom of her cup and took a chaste sip, glowering across at the merry group who occupied the opposite table.

“Finbarr seems happy tonight.” Eliseth slid into the empty chair beside the Healer.

Meiriel frowned. She could have done without the Weather-Mage and her sly insinuations. She shrugged, forcing the appearance of nonchalance. “It’s a rare occasion when Finbarr can be dragged out of his Archives to a celebration. He isn’t used to all this wine,” Despite her efforts to hide it, her anger broke through. “It’s all very well for Aurian—she’s accustomed to carousing all hours with those low-born Mortal scum from the Garrison.”

“Don’t we all know it!” Eliseth said sympathetically, “Believe me, Meiriel, we can see the shape of things to come. Why, that wretched swordsman of hers already spends half his time here, profaning our halls with his presence. Before long, she’ll be inviting the rest of her Mortal friends, and our peace and seclusion will be gone forever. Why does Miathan not put a stop to it?”

“You know why,” Meiriel said sourly. “Aurian has the Archmage wrapped around her little finger!”

“And not only the Archmage, it seems.” Eliseth indicated the next table, where Finbarr and D’arvan were laughing and drinking with Aurian. The gibe hit home.

Meiriel, her emotions already inflamed by the wine, felt her face flush hot with rage. “You mind your own business, you bitch!”

Eliseth’s sympathetic expression did not alter. “I simply wished to warn you,” she said smoothly, “but if you’ve noticed ...” She left the thought hanging, the more powerful to Meiriel for being unstated. “Have you thought,” she went on, “that if Aurian should abandon her Mortal lover for ambition’s sake—for she could never be the next Archmage with such a scandalous encumbrance—she would need to seek a mate among the Magefolk?”

Meiriel stared at her. “Just what are you trying to say?”

Eliseth shrugged. “Only that the possibilities are limited. She hates Davorshan and Bragar, D’arvan is next to useless, and it’s rumored that she has already rejected Miathan, fool that she is.”

“Finbarr would never leave me!” It hardly sounded convincing, even to herself. Meiriel had been harboring jealous thoughts of late, since Finbarr had taken Aurian’s side over the disgraceful business with that Mortal,

“Well, that’s all right, then. You have nothing to worry about,” Eliseth said heartily. “I was about to offer a small suggestion that might be to your interest, but—”

“What?” It came out more sharply than Meiriel had intended, and she cursed the slip as she saw the Weather-Mage smile.

Eliseth leaned close. “You know Miathan’s abhorrence for half-breeds. If Aurian were to bear the swordsman’s brat, then the Archmage would surely exile her for good.” She drew back, looking closely into Meiriel’s face.

“But Aurian would never let that happen—and her control of such matters is too good—A taught her myself.”

“But you are the Healer, Meiriel. You must have the power to undo what you’ve taught—that is, if you want to. Just think —one small counterspell would rid us of Aurian and her unsavory influence for good. Really, it would be a favor to everyone concerned. Aurian’s loyalties are pulling her more and more toward the Mortals, unthinkable though it is. With the decision made for her, she’d be happier elsewhere, and she and Forral could be together in peace.” Eliseth shrugged. “And what better opportunity could you have than tonight? Aurian has already drunk a good deal—she is enjoying herself too much to notice your interference. Why, she’ll think she has made the slip herself—when she finds out. She would never suspect you.”

As she rejoined Davorshan and Bragar, Eliseth was smiling. “Well?” Bragar asked her. “How did it go?” The man would never learn subtlety.

“It could scarcely be better.” The Weather-Mage seated herself, smoothing her skirts with fastidious care, and poured herself a goblet of wine. “As I thought, it was no trouble at all to make Meiriel’s ridiculous jealousy work in our favor. Oh, she protested of course, and said she could never contemplate such a thing—but the seed has been sown. She’ll do it, never fear.”

She turned to Davorshan with a dazzling smile, smugly noting the anger on Bragar’s face. While the fools were at each other’s throats vying for her favors, she could easily control them both. “Well, Davorshan,” she purred, “now that Aurian is taken care of, we can turn to the business of removing your unfortunate brother. Why don’t you fetch some more wine? Suddenly I feel like celebrating!”

When they got back to the Academy, having been sternly “shushed” by the guards at the gate, Anvar and Forral came to an unsteady halt outside Aurian’s rooms. “Come in, lad,” Forral said gaily if somewhat indistinctly. “Come and have a drink with Aurian. You haven’t had a drink with Aurian yet, and she’ll get mad if you don’t. And we don’t want to make her mad,” he added in an exaggerated whisper, making such a face that Anvar had to prop himself weakly against the wall, he was laughing so much. Forral opened the door and the two of them practically fell into the room,

Aurian had been doing a fair amount of celebrating herself, judging by her flushed face and the brilliance of her sparkling green eyes. She’d discarded the somber Mage’s robes or practical warrior’s garb that she usually wore, and was instead dressed in holiday finery—a tawny gold gown of velvet with a deep neckline and long flowing sleeves. Her -wealth of fiery hair was caught back in a loose web of gold, and she glowed like a living flame in the soft candlelight. Anvar felt his heart give a couple of unsteady thumps. He had never realized that she was so beautiful.

Forral swooped down on her and, totally unembarrassed by Anvar’s presence, covered her face with kisses. She laughed, and flinging her arms around him, kissed him back,

“You look as though you’ve been having a good time,” Aurian said ’with a smile,

“Me an’ Anvar have been down to the Unicorn with the lads and lasses,” Forral informed her, “but we missed you.”

“And I missed you two—ah—too.” Aurian laughed. “I’ve been pining for my SoTstice kiss all night.” She made a doleful face, and Forral kissed her again. Then she discovered the bottle of wine that he held. “You love! Is that for me?”

“We couldn’t celebrate without you,” Forral declared grandly. “I’ll open it.” Divesting Anvar of cloak and bottle, he poured wine for the three of them and they stood in front of the fire and lifted their glasses to each other.

“Joyous Solstice, love,” Aurian said to Forral. “Joyous Solstice, Anvar.”

And to Anvar, for the first time in two years, it truly was.

They sat together round the table and, to Anvar’s embarrassment, Forral told Aurian about his impromptu concert. “Truly, love, it was amazing,” he said. “Anvar here played that guitar like—like you handle a sword—all rhythm and fire and flow. I wish you could have heard him.”

“So do I,” Aurian said. “It sounds wonderful. Wherever did you learn to play like that, Anvar?”

Because Anvar felt so happy, and because the wine had loosened his tongue, he found himself telling them about Ria teaching him music, and how his grandpa had made instruments for him that he had lost when he came to the Academy. Tears filled his eyes as he spoke of the two people he had loved so much, who were both dead now,

Gently, Aurian reached across and brushed a tear from his face. “Don’t be sad, Anvar, They’re still with you, in the gift of music that you love so much. They’ll always be there—in your hands, and in your heart.”

She exchanged a look-with Forral—a look filled with such depths of love and sorrow that Anvar, suddenly understanding, became uncertain whether his tears were for himself, or for these two who had been so kind to him, and whose love was doomed to someday end in tragedy.

Their glasses were empty, and Aurian got up a little unsteadily to fetch some wine that she said was perfect for a special occasion. “Miathan gave me this for Solstice,” she said, uncorking the dusty bottle. “It’s one of his special vintages. He would have fifty fits if he found out who’d been drinking it!” The two men chuckled, and thanks to the Archmage’s gift, the party soon cheered up again.

The three of them sang together, unaccompanied and softly, because the hour was late. A fleeting thought of having to get up to serve breakfast crossed Anvar’s mind, but he ignored it. How could tomorrow ever come? This night was held forever in a timeless web of delight. Aurian’s contralto voice thrilled him. He’d never known that she could sing. By the time they reached the bottom of the bottle they were back to bawdy ballads and silly children’s songs, and all three were laughing helplessly.

“Oh, dear,” Aurian gasped, wiping her streaming eyes. “I haven’t had such a good time in ages!” She tilted the bottle to refill their glasses, but only a few drops trickled out, “Bat turds!” She muttered Finbarr’s favorite curse. “That’s the last!”

“I should go anyway,” Anvar said, struggling to his feet. “I have to get up in the morning to bring you lazy lot your breakfast.” He had spoken thoughtlessly, confident for once that his words would not cause offense, but Aurian’s face fell. “Oh, Anvar, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Forral frowned, “Look, lad,” he said, “you know it’s not Aurian’s fault. She can’t release you from your bond, and my hands are tied. I’d have this bondservant business stopped tomorrow if I could, but I’m outnumbered on the Council. Don’t think I haven’t tried. And why blame poor Aurian? She didn’t make you a bondservant—she only tried to help you. Does she treat you like a slave? She’s been worrying herself silly over you these last months, did you know that? She’d like nothing better than to free you if she could, and this is no way to treat her in return!”

That was too much, “I know that!” Anvar cried angrily. “But how would you feel if you were in my place? You don’t know what it’s like to have nothing—no freedom, no future, no hope! To always force yourself to be respectful, to watch each word lest you’re punished for speaking out of turn, to always be at someone’s beck and call. You and the Lady Aurian have a place in the world. You have respect; you have each other to love, and to love you. Can I ever hope for that? I’m a bondservant—I’m not free to love. Can you imagine how lonely that can be? For the rest of my life I’ll have nothing to look forward to—nothing and no one of my own!”

“Oh, Anvar.” Aurian’s eyes brimmed with sympathy. Going to Anvar, she took his hands, “I wish there was something I could do,” she said sefcty.

Anvar, already ashamed of his outburst, felt guiltier than ever. “Lady, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I were complaining about you. Why, you’ve been so kind to me . . .” He struggled to find the words. “I wouldn’t have missed tonight for all the world.”

“Nor would I,” Aurian assured him, and he knew his apology had been accepted. She dug into a drawer and produced a small packet of herbs which she tucked into Anvar’s pocket. “Make that into a tea in the morning,” she said. “It’s one of Meiriel’s cure-alls—wonderful for aching heads. I’m sure I’ll be in no state tomorrow to attempt any Healing! Sleep as late as you want, Anvar, and when you get round to it, bring enough breakfast for three.”

Anvar assumed that Miathan must be breakfasting with Aurian and Forral, and suddenly the evening was ruined. With a sigh, he turned to go. But Forral detained him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We understand, lad,” he said softly. “Both of us do. I don’t know if we can influence the Archmage, but maybe next year we can try to get you down to the Garrison. I know you said that Aurian has been teaching you a bit of swordplay. If you look like you can learn, and it suits you, maybe Miathan would let you join my troop. You’re too good a man to waste your life drudging for bloody Mages—begging your pardon, love,” he added quickly, glancing at Aurian and covering his mouth in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean you, of course.”

To Anvar’s surprise ^Aurian, far from being angry, was delighted. “Forral, what a splendid idea!” She hugged the swordsman fiercely. Anvar felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his heart. In an excess of gratitude he hugged Forral too, joining in the general embrace, his face cracking in a grin so wide it almost hurt.

Then Aurian was hugging him, and Forral suddenly said: “Here, you haven’t given Anvar a Solstice kiss yet. Fancy forgetting that!”

“Goodness,” Aurian said, “you’re absolutely right!” She put her arms around Anvar’s neck and he felt her lips brush his cheek, light as a butterfly’s wing.

“That’s pathetic, lass!” Forral roared. “Can’t you do better than that? Go on, it’s Solstice. Kiss him properly!” And she did. Not a kiss of passion, such as Forral had received, but a gentle, generous kiss nonetheless, and to Anvar, strangely precious. Once again, he felt his heart pound unsteadily, the touch of her soft lips on his making him tremble.

“That’s more like it!” Forral said, and suddenly Anvar remembered his presence. “You’ve brought back his smile, love,” the swordsman said to Aurian.

“Well, I should hope so!” the Mage replied. For an instant she looked deep into Anvar’s eyes. “You should smile more often, Anvar—it suits you. Well, if things work out, maybe you’ll have more reason to smile in the future.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Forral said. “Oh, curse it—we can’t!” So they said their good-nights instead. That night Anvar’s bed seemed less hard and cold than it usually did, and his dreams were sweet.

Anvar paid for the previous night’s celebrations on Solstice Morn. His head was pounding fit to fall off, and he wished it would—anything to be rid of the pain. But Aurian’s remedy worked wonders, and soon he felt able to get her breakfast tray ready, though the smell of the food gave him some queasy moments.

As he carried the tray up the tower steps to Aurian’s door, Anvar heard the sound of hurrying footsteps behind him and turned to see the Mage herself, cloaked and booted for a trip outdoors. She was out of breath and carried a large, flattish wooden box in her arms. He wo’hdefed where she had been so early, especially if she felt as delicate as he did. As she approached, Anvar saw that she looked rather tired and drawn, but the cold had brought a glow to her cheeks and a little of last night’s sparkle back into her eyes. Snowflakes were melting into brilliant diamond drops in her wind-tangled hair and the spicy, musky perfume that she favored was overlaid with the fresh, invigorating scent of the snowy open air.

Thinking of her kiss the previous night, Anvar felt himself blush. Would she regret what had happened under the influence of the wine? Would she turn away in embarrassment or scorn? But the smile she gave him was frank and friendly—and sympathetic.

“You, too?” slwssid with a wry smile, putting a hand to her forehead. Anvar nodded. “Never mind,” she said. “It was worth it. I enjoyed every minute of last night.”

Anvar was startled. Did she know what he’d been thinking? Did her words carry some hidden meaning? Frowning, he followed the Mage into her rooms.

“Gods, what a mess!” Aurian grimaced at the litter of bottles and goblets, and went to open the curtains.

Anvar put down the tray and began to tidy the debris while she lit the fire—a task that never took her long. The sound of their bustle must have awakened Forral, for Anvar heard a groan from the bed in the adjacent room. Aurian ran to the swordsman, her face full of sympathy, and Anvar cursed his own stupidity. Hidden meanings, indeed! What a fool he was! Thoroughly ashamed of himself, he turned to go.

Aurian’s face appeared round the bedroom door. “Don’t go yet, Anvar!” she said.

Anvar waited reluctantly as she mixed some of Meiriel’s medicine and took it in to Forral. The loving closeness of the pair emphasized the emptiness of his own life, and he felt left out and, in truth, a little jealous. Besides, he didn’t want to risk meeting Miathan.

“When are you expecting the Archmage, Lady?” Anvar asked as Aurian came back into the room.

“Miathan? Is he corning? Has there been a message?”

Aurian frowned.

Anvar gestured at the table set for three. “No, but I thought ...”

The Mage’s face broke into a grin. “Gracious, no,” she said. “Miathan won’t eat with me while Forral is here. I thought you might like to join us this morning, since it’s Solstice Day. Go on, sit down. Forral’s coming.”

When the swordsman appeared, his haggard face turned green at the sight of the food. “Do I have to eat that stuff?” he asked plaintively.

“Go on, try it,” Aurian urged. “It’s just what you need.”

“Bossy!” Forral grumbled, but sure enough, the food and Aurian’s medicine soon began to work, and by the time the last plate was cleared, everyone was feeling much better.

Aurian turned to Anvar. “Forral and I exchanged gifts last night,” she said, “and it occurred to me that I hadn’t given you anything, so . . .” She leaned across and lifted the box that had been propped in the corner. “This is for you.”

Anvar held the box on his lap, not knowing what to say. It was almost too much. Forral, last night, had given him the cloak—and now this. Slowly he opened the lid. There, cradled by a thick padding of cloth, lay a beautiful guitar, its gleaming wood rich with intricate inlay—work of real quality. He stared at Aurian, not daring to believe.

“Is it all right?” she asked. “I should have let you choose for yourself, but I wanted to surprise you. I’m sure the maker would change it if you don’t like it, even though he wasn’t too pleased at being knocked out of bed this morning!”

Anvar lifted the instrument carefully out of the box and struck a chord. It needed tuning after its journey in the cold, but the tone was mellow and sweet. “Oh, Lady, thank you,” he whispered. His throat felt tight, and his eyes filled with tears. No matter how much he feared and hated most of the Magefolk, he knew now that Aurian was a very special exception. If he had to be a bondservant, he could not have hoped for a kinder mistress.

In the snowy weeks that followed Solstice, Anvar’s life was brightened by the Lady Aurian’s gift. The Mage suggested that he keep it in her rooms, rather than leaving the precious instrument unattended in the servants’ quarters, and since she was away from the chambers so much, -he cpuld practice there to his heart’s content. At their suggestion, he began to accompany Aurian and Forral down to the Invisible Unicorn in the evenings to play for the troopers, and his talent was so well appreciated that he suddenly found himself gaining many new friends.

One night, Anvar was at the Unicorn with his Lady and her warrior friends, Maya and Parric. Forral was occupied at the Garrison with work for the next day’s Council meeting. Since Forral and Aurian had become lovers, the swordsman had been clashing more and more with Miathan, and Anvar knew that Aurian was becoming increasingly concerned. She was quiet and distracted that night; her brow was clouded with a frown that not even Parric ’s,jnost outrageous sallies had been able to lift. The arrival of Vannor, however, brought a new animation to the Mage’s face.

“Well?” Aurian demanded, as the merchant settled down with his ale. “Did you find Dulsina? Did you ask her to come back?”

Vannor gave her a mock-fierce scowl. “Did I have much choice, after that tongue-lashing I got from you and Maya? Yes, I found her—she was staying with a cousin who has a lodging house near the Garrison. Yes, she consented to come back— after she’d made me grovel, that is!”

“Serves you right for dismissing her in the first place!” Maya snorted. “We have no sympathy, do we, Aurian?”

“Not a bit!” the Mage chuckled. “You must admit, Vannor, it wasn’t a very clever move, considering that Dulsina is the only one who knows where your children are! You said she had sent them to stay with her sister, didn’t you?”

“That’s right,” the merchant said, with a heartiness that Anvar, looking on, found oddly false. “But there’s no mystery,” Vannor went on. “Dulsina’s sister lives up the coast somewhere near Wyvernesse. Dulsina didn’t want to tell me at first—I think she expected me to go charging up there causing trouble.” He signed. “I miss them, you know—especially Zanna— but Dulsina’s sister will take good care of them. It’ll do them good to get out of the city for a while, and I must admit that it’s restful not to have Sara and Zanna squabbling all the time. On reflection, Dulsina was right to do what she did—I should have known that she was-acting in the best interests of everyone.”

“I’ll wager that Sara’s glad to have Dulsina back!” Aurian’s eyes glinted wickedly, and Anvar pricked up his ears.

“I’ll say!” Vannor snorted. “In truth, we’re all glad to have her back—the household was falling apart around our ears without her. Even Sara said—”

At this point, Anvar went to fetch a new jug of ale. Listening to Vannor talking of Sara as his wife was just too painful. He was returning to the others at their favorite table by the fireside when a pale, faltering figure appeared in the tavern doorway. Anvar caught his breath in astonishment. D’arvan! What was he doing here?

“Aurian—thank the Gods you’re here!” The young Mage staggered to the table, flinging himself on Aurian, who had leapt to her feet. “Miathan threw me out! And Davorshan— he—”

“D’arvan!” Aurian had automatically put her arms around the distraught Mage’s shoulders. Anvar saw her recoil as though she had been stung, and her hands, when she took them away, were covered with blood. The Mage recovered herself quickly. “Hurry,” she hissed at Anvar. “Help me get him out of here, before anyone notices!”

“Do you want me to help?” Vannor asked.

Aurian shook her head. “No, Vannor—just divert attention, if you would. I don’t want the word to get out that a Mage was attacked!”

“We’ll follow in a moment,” Maya whispered, looking alarmed. Anvar helped the Mage catch D’arvan as he collapsed, and she made her hasty good-nights to Parric and Maya. They headed for the door, supporting his limp body between them.

“Honestly,” Maya was saying to Vannor in a loud voice as they left, for the benefit of anyone who might be curious. “She’s told him time and again about drinking so much!”

Aurian was relieved when they finally reached the door to Forral’s quarters. D’arvan’s breathing was becoming more and more labored, although, since he had managed to get from the Academy to the Unicorn, she didn’t think the wound was too serious. She had acted decisively in the tavern, getting him away before the other customers harf time to become curious, but now the shock was taking its toll, and she was weary from half dragging D’arvan through streets filled with slippery slush, taking a circuitous route through the back lanes to avoid the stares of passers-by.

“Aurian! What the bloody blazes has happened?” A tired-looking Forral opened the door, his mouth slack with astonishment. Without answering, Aurian helped Anvar to lay D’arvan on the couch. Forral put his arms around her, and she relaxed for a moment, leaning against his shoulder. “Are you all right, love?” he asked her, and she pulled herself upright and kissed him, glad that he was there.

“I am, but D’arvan isn’t,” she said. “He’s been hurt. Forral, will you light another lamp and get us all some wine while I see to him? Anvar will tell you what happened.”

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Aurian pulled away the torn remains of D’arvan’s robes to expose his back, feeling a mixture of relief and consternation. The wound was a long slice, bloody but shallow—and it had obviously been done with a knife. It wasn’t serious, thank the Gods—but who in the world had tried to stab the Mage? Aurian was well aware that most of the Magefolk were unpopular with the city’s inhabitants, but this was unthinkable!

By now, Aurian was well advanced in the skills of Healing. As she concentrated her powers, the wound was suffused by a faint violet-blue glow, and she had the satisfaction of seeing the sundered tissues start to knit before her eyes as the bleeding stopped and the gash began to close. As D’arvan’s pain ceased, she felt his body relax beneath her hands, and his eyes flickered open. She helped him to a sitting position, and Forral handed him a cup of wine.

Just then the Cavalrymaster entered with Maya, “Don’t worry,” Parric assured Aurian. “Whoever attacked him, they didn’t follow you here.”

“Is he all right?” Maya asked anxiously. “Has he told you how it happened?”

“Not yet.” The Mage frowned. “I’m just about to ask him.” D’arvan’s fine-boned face was even paler than usual, but he was conscious, and seemed fairly alert. “You’ll want to sleep,” Aurian told him, “but drink your wine, before you rest.” She sat down beside him, gratefully taking a goblet of wine from Forral, “You’re safe now,” she said, “We’re in the Garrison. D’arvan—can you tell me what happened?”

D’arvan shuddered. “Miathan,” he whispered, “He sent for me. He said that I was never going to be any use, and told me to get out of the Academy,” His hands trembled so that wine slopped out of the cup. “He had the guards throw me out of the top gate. I—I didn’t know what to do; so I was coming to find you. Then, as I was crossing the causeway, Davorshan—my own brother—leapt out from behind the wall and tried to stab me.”

Aurian caught her breath. Davorshan? A Mage attacking another Mage? Brother against brother? One thing was certain, she thought grimly. Eliseth was behind this, somehow.

“I knew he was there,” D’arvan went on. “We’re so closely linked, it saved me. I saw my murder in his mind, and I dodged, but the knife caught me, then we struggled and I managed to get away. The guards at the lower gate heard the disturbance, and he had to stop to talk to them. Aurian—how could he do this?” He dropped the cup, burying his face in his hands.

Aurian put her arms around him, “You say you knew his mind,” she prompted gently, when he became calmer. “Do you know why he did it?”

D’arvan nodded. “He—he’s been working with Eliseth, and making some progress with Water-magic,” he said, “He had decided that we must have only enough power for one Mage between us, and since Miathan had banished me, he could kill me so that all the power would be his.”

“But that’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t think so,” D’arvan said. “I’ve suspected as much myself. It’s the only explanation. We’ve been tangling up this power between us, but since Davorshan discovered where his skills lay, he’s been able to reach some of it. Maybe I could, if I had any talents, but I’ve tried everything—”

“Wait a minute!” Aurian sat up abruptly, “No you haven’t! Gods take me for a fool, why didn’t we think of it sooner? You haven’t tried Earth-magic, for the simple reason that there’s no one at the Academy who teaches it. D’arvan, we’ll send you to my mother! No one will know where you are, so you’ll be safe. Eilin can shield you, and she’ll teach you. And it would be a great help for her. She won’t admit it, but she desperately needs some company.”

“But I’m not sure , . .” D’arvan began doubtfully,

“Oh, nonsense. You have to try, don’t you see? At least you’ll know for certain. And you can’t let that brother of yours get away with this without a fight!”

“Well . . . I’ve always liked plants and things . . .”

“Of course you have,” Aurian noticed that D’arvan’s eyelids were drooping, “Look, get some rest now, I’ll get a blanket and you can sleep on the couch. You’ll be safe here, and in a day or so we’ll see about smuggling you out of the city. At all costs, the other Magefolk mustn’t find out where you are.”

“I’ll send Maya with him,” Forral suggested. “She’ll see that he gets there safely.”

“Of course I’ll go,” Maya said. Stooping, she embraced the young Mage. “Don’t you worry,” she told him. “We’ll take care of you.”

When Maya and Parric had gone to their beds, Aurian and Forral stood with their arms around each other, looking down at the sleeping Mage. Now that D’arvan was asleep, Aurian could no longer contain her rage at the way he had been treated. “Forral, I don’t like what’s happening. Nothing’s as it should be anymore at the Academy, and as for Miathan—well, after the way he treated Anvar, and—and now this. . .” Still she couldn’t bring herself to tell Forral about the Archmage’s attack on her. But her decision had crystallized. “Forral, I’ve had enough! I’m sick of the Academy—and the Magefolk, most of them. We have so many powers, but we never think of using them to help people! Think of the good we could have done, if my people had not been so arrogant and self-absorbed. I want to leave—to find my own way in the world. And I want to be with you—all the time, not just for these snatched moments!”

Forral looked at her gravely. “Maybe you’re right,” he said softly. “I’ve felt this way about the Magefolk for so long— Gods, if it hadn’t been for you, I’d have left long ago. Of course we can go, love. But we’ll have to make our plans carefully, and we must flee fast and far to escape Miathan. He won’t let you go easily!”

“We must take Anvaf with us, too,” Aurian said urgently. She looked around at her servant, who had fallen asleep in a chair. “At least we can give him back his freedom.” Gently, so as not to wake him, she covered him with another blanket from Forral’s bedchamber.

“We could all do with some sleep,” Forral suggested. “Once D’arvan and Maya are safely on their way, we’ll be able to make some plans of our own.” He yawned. “Come on, love. Come to bed. We’re too tired to think straight—and I want my wits about me tomorrow. I have another wrangle to face in Council with that bloody Archmage—can you believe he wants to raise the sewer tax again? He won’t be satisfied until he’s bled this city dry. If this is to be my last fight with him, I mean to make it a good one—especially after what I’ve seen tonight!”

Aurian climbed gratefully into bed with her lover, ruefully noting the scarcity of covers. “You’d better not steal the bedclothes tonight,” she told Forral. “I’ll have trouble keeping warm as it is.” She snuggled close to him. “It reminds me of when I was little, when I gave you all my blankets so that you wouldn’t have to leave the Valley.” She flung her arms around him. “Oh Gods, Forral, I love you! I couldn’t bear to think of losing you.”

Forral held her close, stroking her hair. “You’ll never lose me,” he reassured her. “Never, while I live.”

As he spoke, Aurian again felt that premonitory prickle of dread, like ice sheeting over her bare skin. She shuddered, and tightened her grasp on Forral until he grunted a sleepy protest. It can’t be true, she assured herself desperately. I’m tired and worried, that’s all—I’m imagining things. She closed her eyes firmly, and did her best to thrust her fears from her mind. But weary as she was, Aurian got no sleep that night.