“Not unless it’s necessary.” He shrugged. “I’m sure they’d understand if you had to defend the village or save a life. You better let the family know we’re finished.”
She handed him his bag, then moved to the doorway. A lamp was sitting on the floor in the corridor. Picking it up, she moved it to the floor beside the boy then extinguished her light, leaving the room lit only by the comforting glow of the lamp.
“There were strangers.”
Tessia and her father stopped and looked at each other. Then she picked up the lamp and held it to one side of Yaden’s head. His eyes were open. They moved to Veran.
“Strangers in the hills,” the boy whispered. “Hunters’ boys told us. Father said not to bother Lord Dakon, but it might be important. Will you tell him?”
Tessia’s father glanced at her, then looked at Yaden and nodded.
“Of course. He probably knows already.”
The boy grimaced. “Hurts.”
“I know. I’m about to give your mother something for you that will keep the pain away. Be patient. She’ll bring it to you soon.” He patted the boy’s shoulder gently, nodded at Tessia and followed her to the doorway.
“Could be he’s a bit delirious. Still, if his father knows something we’ll know it’s nothing to do with the illness. If he does, would you...?”
She nodded. “I’ll mention it to Lord Dakon.”
He smiled, then turned back to the boy. As Tessia started along the corridor the metal worker’s wife peered out of the entrance to the kitchen.
“Is he...?”
“He’s fine,” Tessia told her. “Could you bring some more clean water?”
As the servants removed the empty plates, Lord Dakon opened the second bottle of wine and refilled Tessia’s and Jayan’s glasses. The apprentices looked surprised, and raised their glasses in a salute of thanks. Both had been unusually quiet this evening. Usually one or the other conversed with him during the meal, Tessia with more ease as the weeks passed, even though they rarely spoke to each other.
The division between them dismayed Dakon. It had started with Jayan. The young man was no extrovert, but he was sociable and cheerful enough to get along with most people. Yet he had clearly disliked Tessia from the moment she arrived.
It had taken Tessia a week or two to realise it. Jayan was not the type to be petty or cruel. His impatient and disdainful manner did eventually give him away, however, and since then she had been quietly defiant, ignoring him when she could and occasionally retaliating with a delightfully biting remark when provoked.
Dakon was almost enjoying watching the pair. Almost.
Tonight there appeared to be something on Tessia’s mind.
Jayan, on the other hand, appeared to be unusually interested in Tessia, looking thoughtfully at her from time to time. It was a good thing Tessia was so distracted, as Dakon was sure this behaviour from his older apprentice would have made her irritable and suspicious.
“I have an announcement to make,” he told them, then smiled as they straightened and looked at him with expectant curiosity.
“In a week we will be travelling to Imardin.”
Tessia’s eyes opened wide. Jayan, in contrast, relaxed back in his chair, smiling with obvious pleasure.
“Imardin?” Tessia repeated.
“Yes. I travel there every year,” Dakon explained, “to deal with matters of trade, buy what we can’t get here in Mandryn and visit friends.”
She nodded. That much wouldn’t be a surprise to her, he knew. Like all the villagers she must have noted his yearly absences, and that he usually brought back cures and ingredients for her father. Her surprise was at the news that she would be travelling with him, and her next question confirmed it.
“We’re both going with you?” she asked, glancing at Jayan, who frowned at the question.
“Of course. Jayan usually visits his family. The king requires all magicians to notify him of their intention to take on an apprentice. Though you are a natural and nobody can stop you learning magic, not even the king, I should at least give him the opportunity to meet you.”
She glanced at Jayan again. “I hope this is a silly question, but what would happen if the village was attacked while you and Jayan were gone?”
It was not the question Dakon had expected, but if she was worried about the safety of her family it would naturally be a more pressing concern than the prospect of meeting the king.
Jayan’s frown had disappeared, Dakon noted. He looked as though he was carefully keeping his face expressionless.
“Lord Narvelan would deal with it,” Dakon assured her, “just as I deal with any trouble in his ley whenever he is absent.”
She nodded, but there was still a crease between her eyebrows. Her fingers drummed softly on the table, and then she drew in a deep breath and looked up at him again.
“When we were treating the metal worker’s boy today, he told us that hunters’ children said they’d seen strangers in the mountains – and that you should know.” She spread her hands. “It might be nonsense. The metal worker dismissed it as stories made up by the children to scare each other.”
Dakon kept his expression neutral as he considered her words. It was possible this was just a piece of gossip, or a scary story as she’d suggested. Or the strangers might simply be Kyralian travellers, or even lawless bandits. It might only be Narvelan’s fears of invasion that made the news sound sinister.
Or Hanara’s belief that Takado would return for him. Dakon had read the man’s mind this morning, deciding it would be foolish to leave the village without at least making sure the exslave wasn’t planning some mischief. Fortunately the slave had submitted to the mind-read willingly. Dakon was not sure what he would have done if he hadn’t. It had heartened him to find he was right: Hanara had no terrible plans for Mandryn. In fact, Hanara’s fear that his master would return indicated how badly he wanted to stay in Kyralia, and how unlikely he was to run back to his master. Dakon could not find any evidence in the ex-slave’s memories that the Sachakan magician had spoken or indicated an intention to return.
Still, these rumours make me glad Narvelan is as diligent as he is. I should have it investigated. And have any news sent to him.
“I’ll send someone to the hunters to see if there’s anything to it,” he told Tessia.
She nodded and looked away. For a moment he waited to see if she recalled what he’d said about the king, but she remained silent, having either not heard it or forgotten it.
“Any other questions?” he prompted.
Tessia frowned. “How long will we be gone for?”
“At least a month. It takes a week to get to the city at this time of the year, when the roads are still wet.”
Her frown deepened. Knowing how she still worried about her father managing without her, he smiled. By all accounts, the healer’s new assistant was learning fast. He decided to change the subject.
“You’ve never travelled before, have you?”
She shook her head.,
“It will be a novel experience for you, then. I’ll continue your lessons during the journey. It’ll keep us entertained as well as add to your education. I’m afraid Jayan and I have made the journey so often enough that we’ll probably only notice the rain and the cold.
“We’ll stay with two other country lords as we pass through their leys. Otherwise we’ll stop overnight in whatever town we manage to reach, with the town master. In Imardin we’ll stay with a friend of mine, Lord Everran, and his wife Lady Avaria. He inherited one of the city’s great Houses – a rather large half-empty building. They’re both magicians – you may find it interesting to talk to another female magician, though Lady Avaria will probably be more interested in taking you round the shops in the city, and visiting her friends, each of whom will encourage you to spend all the allowance I give you, and more.”
Tessia’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to—”
“Oh, believe me, I do,” he told her, “or I will never hear the end of it from Avaria. Besides, I could hardly give Jayan a little spending money without doing you the same favour.” He turned to look at Jayan. The young man shrugged.
“Anything you wish to ask?”
Jayan shook his head, then hesitated. “Is there any more wine?”
Dakon laughed and reached for the bottle. “I’m sure we’ll get one half-glass each from what’s left. Then perhaps we can share a few of our travel stories.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Jayan asked, glancing at Tessia. “We don’t want to make her wish she wasn’t coming.”
Dakon waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing has ever happened that was truly dangerous or unpleasant.”
“No?” Jayan asked, his expression clearly showing his disagreement.
“Nothing that didn’t make for a good story afterwards, that is.”
As Tessia’s eyebrows rose, Dakon grinned. “Well, there was that time I was helping Jayan practise making fireballs...”
Tessia slipped through the main door of Lord Dakon’s house into the well-lit greeting hall. Lately the magician had insisted she use the front entrance, pointing out that he and Jayan used it, and the villagers would think he was neglecting to grant her the full benefits of her new status if she kept using the servants’ door.
Everything was much fancier in this part of the house. A staircase wide enough for two or three people to ascend together, with gracefully carved railings, led up to the next floor. Broad openings on either side beckoned visitors into side corridors, from which they could access the dining room and a formal seating room.
As Tessia closed the door a head appeared from within one of the corridors. Keron smiled and nodded politely, and his head withdrew again. Tessia crossed to the stairs.
At the top of the staircase she paused. Dakon had suggested she have her last dinner before leaving Mandryn with her parents. Veran and Lasia had expressed their excitement over her coming journey in their individual ways, her mother exclaiming with delight and her father quietly giving advice on how to behave in the city. It had been nice, but exhausting. She was tempted to slip up to her room and bed.
Light spilled out of the library doorway and voices drifted to her ears. Tessia found herself moving towards the door instead of heading to her room. She doubted she would fall asleep despite her weariness. More likely she would lie awake, as she had the last two nights, thinking about the journey ahead, and what might happen in the city. Dakon might have last-moment instructions, too.
When she stepped into the doorway, Dakon and Jayan looked up. Both held books, she saw, but from the chatter she’d heard she guessed they had stopped to talk. The magician smiled, but a frown, quickly smoothed away, creased the apprentice’s brow.
“Ah, Tessia,” Dakon said. “How was your evening with your parents?”
“Good, Lord Dakon. They had a lot of advice.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure how useful it will be, even if it was given with the best of intentions.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure it was. Your mother hasn’t visited Imardin, has she?”
“No. Father has, but not for over ten years. That seems to bother him now. I fear you have put ideas into his head.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I should have invited him to join us. I expect it’s too late for that now.”
She caught her breath. It would have been wonderful to travel to Imardin with her father. He would have enjoyed it, she was sure. But it was likely he would have turned down the opportunity, not wanting to leave the village without a healer.
A short silence followed. She searched for something to say.
“Is there anything else to be done before we leave in the morning?”
Dakon shook his head, but his expression as he regarded her was thoughtful. “There is one matter.” He paused. “Now that you have gained control of your power, it is time we began the ritual of higher magic.”
Tessia blinked, then felt a thrill of both excitement and dread.
“Tonight?” She felt her heartbeat quicken. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Well then.” She moved into the room. “How does it... work?”
“Perhaps it would be easier to show her,” Jayan suggested. Tessia started in surprise. She had almost forgotten he was there.
Dakon turned to regard the apprentice. The pair exchanged unreadable looks, then Dakon slowly nodded. “Perhaps it would.”
He rose from his seat and stepped into the space between the chairs. Jayan put his book aside, yawned and got to his feet. He smiled faintly, then an expression Tessia had never seen before smoothed his face and he looked older and more dignified.
Moving towards Dakon, he stopped in front of the magician, his gaze fixed on the floor. Then he knelt and lifted his hands, palms upward, to the level of his head.
A shiver ran down Tessia’s spine. Jayan was no longer just a young, disdainful man but a submissive, obedient apprentice. Dakon was no longer the benevolent lord of ley and village, but the master magician. This is the world of magicians that ordinary people do not see, she thought. A world they had kept private until now. A world she was a part of. The idea seemed unreal. Unbelievable. But perhaps after she took part in the ritual she would feel more like someone who belonged in their world.
Dakon reached into his shirt and took out a small, slim object. As he slid the object apart into two pieces, Tessia realised it was a tiny blade. Dakon touched the palms of both Jayan’s hands with the point of the knife. If it hurt, Jayan hid it well. Then the magician put away the knife, placed his palms over Jayan’s and closed his eyes.
Tessia held her breath, her heart still beating quickly. A moment later Dakon lifted his hands from Jayan’s, smiled and murmured something. The rite was over.
That’s it? she thought. No, of course that isn’t it. There’s always much more going on, when magic is involved.
Jayan stood up, reflexively brushed the knees of his trousers with the backs of his hands, then took a cloth from within his clothing and wiped his hands. He glanced at her and shrugged.
“See? Nothing to it.”
Nothing obvious to the eye, she thought wryly. But seeing him cheerfully survive the ritual was reassuring. She suppressed a sudden reluctance and swallowed her nervousness, then stepped forward. Jayan moved away as she approached, and Dakon gave her his usual encouraging smile. Facing him, she looked up, then away again as she realised it would be more uncomfortable the longer she prolonged the next part. She quickly dropped to her knees and held up her palms, keeping her eyes on the floor and trying not to visualise herself looking as submissive as Jayan had.
Submissive and yet respectful, she suddenly thought. There is a dignity to the rite, I suppose. I wonder how the Sachakans do it. There’s probably no ritual at all. They just rip the power from their slaves whenever they want to. So the fact there’s a ritual at all for Kyralian magicians is a good thing. A sign of respect to the apprentices...
She felt a sting of pain in one palm, and resisted the urge to look up. The second pinprick came. Then Dakon’s hands met hers.
A faint feeling of dizziness came next. Then not so faint. She felt herself tilting and tried to recover her balance, but couldn’t get her body to obey her. Hands grasped her shoulders, supporting her. The sensation of weakness became something more distinct and as she concentrated she felt another will drawing on her power. Though she recognised Dakon’s presence linked to the will she instinctively resisted...in vain. For the first time since she had learned to harness her power she had no control over it.
Then, abruptly, it was given back to her. She felt her body jerk as it overreacted to her desire to regain her balance. Once again, hands steadied her.
“Don’t worry. You’ll work out how to stop yourself falling over.”
The voice was Jayan’s and came from behind her. He was the one supporting her. Suddenly, she only wanted to be on her feet and doing anything but kneeling on the floor relying on Jayan to keep her upright. Slipping out of his grasp, she stood up, reaching out to a chair to steady herself as a wave of dizziness came.
“Slowly,” Dakon said. “You did well, but it can be a shock to the body until it grows used to it.”
She turned to him. “That worked, then? I didn’t do anything wrong?”
He smiled. “No. It worked. As Jayan said, your body will work out how to support itself. Your mind will adjust as well. How do you feel?”
She shrugged. “Fine. It was... interesting. Manageable.” She glanced at Jayan, who was watching her with a faint smile on his face. “I’ll be fine.”
Dakon reached into his jacket again, but this time produced a small white cloth. He handed it to her. As she took it she realised that a thin trickle of blood had streaked her palm.
“Any questions?” he asked expectantly.
“Why is the cutting necessary?” she asked as she wiped her hands, pressing against the tiny cuts on each palm. They had already stopped bleeding.
“The skin of humans and animals is a boundary of sorts,” he told her. “Everything within our skin we are in control of. That is why a magician cannot reach into another human’s body and damage it, no matter how powerful he or she is. He can attack it from outside, but not influence anything within.” Dakon moved back to his chair and sat down, and Jayan followed suit. “To gain control, we must break the barrier.”
Tessia considered that information as she moved to her usual seat. “Is the magician taking power always in control? What happens if the person he is trying to control is a higher magician too?”
“The one taking power still has an unbroken barrier,” Dakon pointed out. “Even if he did not, once he begins drawing magic he can also weaken the body. How much depends on the skill and intent of the magician using higher magic. If it is a benevolent exchange, as little as possible. If it is malevolent, the higher magician can paralyse his victim, making it difficult to even think.”
Tessia shuddered. The ritual of higher magic was simple, but it was a tamed version of an act of violence and death. It was akin to asking apprentices to bare their throats to the thrust of a sharpened sword blade by their masters, trusting that the blade would not cut.
But no sword took strength from its victims. No sword, even used gently, could benefit its wielder the way higher magic did. The ritual was also an exchange of power, and of trust and respect. In return apprentices learned to use magic. They gained years of training and knowledge that they would otherwise have to gain from experimentation. They also had food and a home to live in while they learned, as well as nice clothes... and the occasional visit to Imardin to socialise with the powerful and influential. Perhaps even the king.
Suddenly it didn’t seem that Dakon received much in return for his time and energy. Just magic. Unless he had a particular need for that extra magic, it must feel as though the effort and time were not worth it. No wonder that some magicians chose not to take on apprentices.
But as the cuts on Tessia’s palms began to itch faintly, she ruefully acknowledged that there would be times she gave him plenty in return for her training, and made a mental note to herself to get hold of some wound balm before she left.
Under the light of an oil lamp and the half-moon, Hanara and two of the younger stable servants carefully rubbed grease into harness leathers and polished the trim of Lord Dakon’s wagon.
Since he’d accepted Lord Dakon’s offer of work and moved into the stable quarters, Hanara had felt much more comfortable with his surroundings. He felt less at ease with the stable servants, however. They constantly exchanged a teasing banter that no Sachakan master would have approved of. Hanara did not know how to respond to it, so he had decided to pretend that he understood their accent and ways less than he did. Whenever they played their foolish pranks on him he shrugged off the laughter. He’d endured far worse indignities, and his weary acceptance appeared to make them respect him in some strange way.
I was a source slave to an ashaki, he reminded himself. They’ll never understand what that meant – how few slaves gain that status.
One in a thousand might. It was somewhere between being a Kyralian lord’s personal, favourite servant and his apprentice. Except he was still a slave.
Now he was a commoner. But he was free. Surely what he had gained was better than what he had lost.
Like the other stable servants, he received coin each week from Lord Dakon – though it was handed out by Keron, the house master. Hanara hadn’t known what to do with it at first. The women servants from the main house brought out food each morning and night, so he didn’t need to purchase any. Boots and clothing had been given to him the day he’d moved into the stable. They were warmer than his old slave garb, but rough compared to the fine cloth Takado had provided. He slept on a pallet up in the stable loft, thankfully away from the other workers – who seemed to enjoy sleeping close to the horses – so he didn’t need to pay for a roof over his head.
Eventually, by watching the others, Hanara gathered that the stable servants liked to spend their fee on frivolities in the village. The baker made sweets as well as bread. The metal worker’s wife sold preserves, dried foods, scented candles, oils and balms. One of the old men carved scraps of wood into utensils and vessels that would have been better made of metal or pottery, as well as game pieces, bead necklaces and strange little figurines of animals and people.
At first Hanara did not see why he should waste his money on such objects. He watched the other workers compare their purchases when they returned to the stables, and noted whether they kept the item, or gave it as a gift – usually to one of the women of the village.
Slowly he came to realise that buying such items would give him an excuse to explore more of the village, so one day he followed some of the workers out on one of their excursions. They noticed him and insisted he join them. It might be that they accepted and wanted to include him, or they might have wanted to keep an eye on him. He had noticed how he was never left alone, and sometimes caught them watching him.
The villagers were welcoming to the stable servants, but each time they noticed Hanara their smiles became forced. They continued to be friendly, even when he came forward to buy something, but when they turned away he saw their expressions turn to fear, wariness or dislike.
On their return to the stable, he noticed children peering from around the sides of houses, staring at him. Some ran away when he noticed them. It was ironic that they should fear him, who had once been a lowly slave.
The stable servants had also passed a gathering of four young women, who whispered and grimaced with distaste when they noticed Hanara. Two young men who saw this turned to regard Hanara with narrowed eyes as he and his companions went by.
Hanara was not surprised by the villagers’ reaction to him. He was a foreigner. He was from a country that had once conquered their people. A member of a race they feared.
Tessia had told him that if any villagers bothered him, he was to tell her. She had assured him there were laws and rules that would protect him. He smiled as he remembered her visits. She, of all the villagers, did not fear or distrust him. The person who came closest to understanding him did not hate him.
Here, in the stables, it was easy to be amused by the haughtiness of some of the villagers. They weren’t slaves, but they weren’t as free as they thought they were. Most worked hard all the same. They might have their fee and their freedom, but they were bound to the lord they served because he owned the land they cultivated and the houses they lived in. They were subject to his whim as any slave was to his or her master. It just didn’t feel like slavery to them because Lord Dakon was a benevolent and generous man.
He even asked if I would let him read my mind. I think he felt guilty about it, too. How can anyone be that scrupulous? That squeamish? It had been tempting to refuse, to see if Dakon would insist or apologise and leave, but Hanara had wanted the magician to know of the danger. Takado would return for him.
I don’t think he believed it. He looked for evidence. I don’t need evidence. I know Takado. What good is it being given my freedom by a man who can’t protect me because he won’t believe it when I say I’m in danger?
Perhaps he’d have been better off working for another, tougher magician. Or perhaps not. He’d noticed unhappy, fearful servants during Takado’s travels through Kyralia. He’d heard stories and rumours. Kyralian magicians could be cruel, and there was not a lot their servants could do about it.
Not all ashaki are as cruel as Takado, he told himself. Some of them are far worse, of course. But there are stories of ashaki who treat their slaves well.
Takado was a cruel man, but rarely without reason. He did not hurt or kill a slave unless that slave had failed or offended him in some way. The punishment usually fitted the crime. Hanara had never heard of Takado harming a slave for entertainment, though it was not uncommon among other ashaki.
Hanara shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable as a now familiar uneasiness stole over him again, as it had every night since he woke up bandaged head to foot in the Residence.
He could not understand why Takado had beaten him so badly and left him behind, when his mistake had been so small. If Takado is not cruel without reason, then I just haven’t seen the reason yet.
But if Hanara hadn’t earned such a savage punishment, what other reason might Takado have for beating him? Had he been trying to impress Lord Dakon? Had he intended for Hanara to be too badly injured to accompany him home?
What possible use was Hanara to his master while stuck here in Kyralia?
The most obvious answer was that he was meant to spy on Lord Dakon. Why Lord Dakon rather than any of the more powerful magicians, Hanara couldn’t guess.
And how am I supposed to spy on him if I’m out here in the stables, and he’s always in the Residence? If I go creeping around inside it’ll make people suspicious. Not that they aren’t suspicious already.
Dakon would be gone soon, too. How could he spy on the magician if he wasn’t here?
How could Lord Dakon protect Hanara if he wasn’t here? Hanara’s heart began to race as it had when he first heard the magician was going to journey to Imardin.
Can I persuade Lord Dakon to take me with him?
He shook his head and sighed. Lord Dakon had been kind and generous, but Hanara knew the man was not a fool. The last place he’d take a possible spy was the city, where Hanara might learn something useful. He’d want Hanara here, watched by his own people, where he couldn’t do any harm.
I am no spy. I have nothing to tell Takado. Soon I won’t even know where Lord Dakon is.
But even before he’d finished the thought he realised that he was wrong. He knew where Lord Dakon wouldn’t be. He also knew that a magician living nearby would protect the village if it was threatened.
He knew that while Takado could take this information from his mind, he had to reach Hanara first. For now all he could do was hope the precautions Lord Dakon had put in place would work.
The magical shield encompassing the wagon kept the rain and wind at bay, but the only known methods of using magic to smooth the road surface were too slow or too laborious to be worth applying. Rutted mud, sometimes submerged under pools and puddles, the road was a torment to both horses and humans, sucking at the hoofs of the former and shaking and jolting the latter.
Someone needs to invent a better wagon, Dakon thought. He’d had the cover removed from this one because he found being enclosed in a rocking vehicle made him feel sick. Tanner, the driver, had stowed it away in case it was needed later.
Protecting himself and his companions with magic took little effort, and Lord Dakon had no trouble sparing attention for lessons. Two objects were moving through the air between the four passengers. One was a metal disc, the other a small knife. The knife kept shooting towards the centre of the disc, while the disc dodged away. Malia made a small noise and flinched as the knife whizzed past her ear.
“Wouldn’t this be safer if I used something other than a knife?” Tessia asked, her voice strained.
Jayan stared hard at the disc. “It gives you the incentive to concentrate.”
Her frown deepened, then Dakon saw it suddenly ease. Her eyes flickered towards Jayan. A faint smile touched her mouth. The knife wove through the air, then suddenly headed straight towards the disc.
A metallic clink was followed by a muttered curse from Jayan.
Dakon laughed at his older apprentice’s expression of surprise.
“What did you do, Tessia?” he asked.
“I imagined what Jayan would see if the disc was between him and the knife. It blocked his view.”
Dakon nodded. “Good. You used reasoning and imagination. You’re no match for him in control and reaction speed yet, and until you are it is thinking like this that will win the game for you. Either that, or his laziness.” Jayan frowned at Dakon in protest. “But it is dexterity that you need to learn. Now swap places.”
Tessia’s gaze remained fixed on the disc as she dodged and evaded the pursuing knife. They had played this game many times now. Jayan was running out of tricks to surprise her with and she was becoming more skilled at manipulating objects with magic and her will.
Dakon suppressed a smile. Travel was exciting only when venturing somewhere new, not when enduring the same bad roads that had jolted his bones every time he made this journey. How many times had he travelled to Imardin? He’d lost count.
As always, his apprentices provided distraction and alleviated the boredom. However, Dakon missed the conversations that had kept him entertained on previous journeys, as Jayan was reticent around Tessia and Tessia wasn’t making up for the lack of talk, either. She was not the type of woman to chatter incessantly, thank goodness, but she, too, was disinclined to speak around her fellow apprentice.
Really, Dakon thought, the two of them were a right pair of sulks when they were together.
So he kept them both occupied with lessons. Even Malia appeared to draw some entertainment from the exercises, watching with fascination and sometimes a worried frown as she witnessed more magic being used than most country people saw in their lifetimes.
The servant had become more subdued and respectful as the days passed, Dakon noted. Perhaps she was intimidated by the display of power. Or perhaps it was exhaustion. She was the only house servant accompanying them – Cannia had asked him to take Malia instead of herself, saying she was getting too old for such journeys and the young woman needed the “maturing” effect of travel.
A cry of triumph from Jayan told Dakon the apprentice had finally got the knife to touch the centre of the disc. Dakon made a small gesture, and the two swapped roles again.
Jayan made a small chuckling noise. His disc abruptly halted, poised between himself and Tessia, and began to spin in circles. When she tried to send the knife at it, the spinning sides of the disc knocked it away. She looked at Dakon.
“Is that allowed?”
He shrugged. “No rule against it.”
“But that’s not fair. How am I supposed to get the knife in?”
He didn’t answer, just looked at her expectantly. She turned her gaze back to the spinning disc.
“I suppose if I got the knife to spin around the disc at the same rate...”
Dakon smiled. “Let’s see if you can, then.”
The knife began to revolve round the disc, point always directed toward its quarry. But though its speed increased, it never matched the disc, which now spun so rapidly it had blurred into a sphere.
“I can’t,” she said and, frustrated, abandoned her attempt. “I can’t see how fast it’s going, so how can I match the speed?”
Jayan was trying hard to not look smug, Dakon noticed.
“You can’t,” Dakon told her.
“So why did you have me...?” She caught herself and looked thoughtful. “To learn that it’s impossible,” she concluded.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “The most powerful magician in all history would still be vulnerable if he were blind. Our physical form is our greatest limitation.”
She rubbed her temples. “I didn’t need the demonstration,” she said wryly, but without reproach. “I have a headache that’s reminding me of my physical form very effectively.”
“Then rest,” he said. “It’ll go away soon.”
He looked at Jayan, considering what activity to suggest next. Jayan needed to hone his fighting skills, both magical and strategic. It was all too easy to skip battle exercises when settled in a peaceful and safe environment. The magical ones could be dangerous, both to magician and apprentice and to local buildings and people. Now that there were hints of a threat from Sachaka, he ought to make sure that Jayan, at least, was well prepared. But clearly they couldn’t start throwing magic about while travelling.
A hopeful look had entered the young man’s gaze. “Kyrima?”
Dakon nodded.
As Jayan dived into the baggage for the box of game pieces, Dakon smiled. He remembered playing the game with his own master. Kyrima had been banned by the Sachakans when they had occupied Kyralia, which was proof of its effectiveness in teaching battle strategy. Once independence had been regained, the game resurfaced, though after three hundred years of secret practice the rules had to be re-established, as so many different variations had evolved. Most magicians took the opportunity to play against new opponents whenever they could, because a player eventually learned the habits and mannerisms of those he or she regularly played against.
Malia and Jayan swapped seats in the wagon so Dakon and his apprentice were sitting opposite each other. They selected their pieces – a magician each and a number of “sources” decided by the roll of three dice. Another dice throw decided the strength of the magician. Jayan looked at Tessia and held out a waxed tablet and scribe.
“Score for us?”
She sighed and took the items. “Why is it that so many of your games are about war and fighting?”
“Conflict challenges us to extend ourselves – to stretch the limits of our skills and power,” Dakon replied.
“Being able to defend our people and our country is part of our responsibility as magicians,” Jayan told her. “To neglect to learn to fight is... well, it makes us the useless, glorified parasites that some say we are.”
Dakon blinked and stared at Jayan, wanting to ask where the apprentice had heard such things said, but he did not want to be distracted from answering Tessia’s question so he turned back to her.
“What we learn from these games we can apply elsewhere. The control you need for the disc and knife game might come in handy if you are occupied with something that takes more than two hands, and you do not have an assistant – or an assistant with the appropriate skill for the task.”
As he’d expected, a familiar expression of comprehension came to her face, then an almost secretive thoughtfulness. He knew she was thinking how such a skill could be used in healing. That same expression had crossed her face when their discussions had touched on healing and magic too many times now for him to not recognise it.
Would she ever lose her interest – perhaps obsession – with healing? Was there any harm in it? He hoped the answer to both questions was no. While her apprenticeship might have benefited if she had been as captivated by magic for its own sake, she was absorbing his lessons and gaining skills at an acceptable rate. More than acceptable, he was pleased to see. For an apprentice forced to learn while travelling, and sharing her master’s time and attention with another, she was learning with impressive speed.
What was most startling was how she learned. She saw everything in reference to her physical self. He had been telling himself that this was because she had already learned to think from the perspective of a healer, but he had a nagging feeling that there was more to it than that. When shown how to use magic in a certain way, she grasped the concept immediately and understood all the variations, almost as instinctively as a newborn enka knows how to walk and then run and then jump.
He had no doubt that one day she would surpass him not just in strength, but in ability. It was going to be interesting to watch.
But when it came to battle training she showed a strong reluctance. Perhaps it was natural that someone so focused on mending was repelled by actions designed for harming. She needed to see the value of defensive skills. It was better to prevent an injury in the first place, than to have to treat it.
Turning back to the game, he gave his pieces their own tiny protective shields and suspended them. Jayan followed suit. Various items were positioned between them to act as obstacles, and they took it in turns to block the other’s view by holding up a travel rug while they arranged their pieces. Then the rug was lowered and the game began.
At the end of the first round they had both used up most of their source pieces’ value. Dakon took a risk and elevated one of his sources to a magician. This meant he had lost a source, but had two positions from which to attack. The start of a new round re-energised the sources, as it represented a night’s rest.
“Why do your magicians have so many sources?” Tessia asked. “Kyralian magicians don’t have that many apprentices.”
“We don’t,” Dakon agreed. “But in war people can volunteer to be sources.”
“Do you ever play with one or both sides arranged as if they are Sachakan magicians?”
“Yes.”
“How is that different? Do you have to take the sources out of the game once they are used?”
“Not necessarily, though when playing ‘Sachakan’ you’re allowed to kill sources and give your magician extra points. Sachakan magicians are not as inclined to kill their sources as they are rumoured to be. Sources are more valuable in an extended battle if they are alive to be useful again the next day.”
“But not in a short battle.”
“Or in a desperate situation,” Dakon added.
“Why don’t you represent non-magicians in the game? Ordinary people – or fighters.”
“Ordinary weapons aren’t much good against magicians,” Jayan pointed out.
“Not unless the enemy is exhausted,” she said. “If weapons are always ineffective, why do ordinary people make and learn to use them?”
“Ordinary people are a potential source of power during battle,” Dakon told her. “They’re best kept well out of the reach of the enemy. Non-magicians who use ordinary weapons are usually guards, and their purpose is mainly to protect or control ordinary people. It’s been many hundreds of years since Kyralia had soldiers as part of its defence. Not since the times when magicians were few and expensive to hire. Hey!”
Taking advantage of Dakon’s distraction, Jayan had struck one of the lord’s magicians. Dakon didn’t manage to strengthen its shield in time, and the piece glowed and began to melt. Sighing, and ignoring Jayan’s triumphant grin, he drew it out of the game, carefully reshaped it while it was still hot, and held it to one side to cool before he put it in the box.
“Lord Dakon.”
Tanner had spoken. Dakon looked up. The driver jerked his head in the direction of something further down the road. As Dakon looked beyond the man and took in the scene they were approaching, his stomach sank. Jayan turned and glanced behind, then looked back at Dakon. Without saying a word, they returned the pieces to the box, discarded the “obstacles” and, as the wagon slowed to a stop, climbed out.
Once the wagon was still, Tessia stood up to get a better view of the scene before it. A stream or small river, bloated from the rain, crossed their path. The water’s flow was fast, swirling around the broken wooden supports of a bridge and the remains of the carts that must have been crossing it when the bridge gave way.
On both sides of the stream people milled about, suggesting that the bridge had failed some time ago and plenty of travellers had arrived since to find their way blocked. Most were locals, Tessia guessed. All were staring at Dakon and Jayan, no doubt taking note of their expensive clothing. Several carts were lined up along the road – most on the opposite bank – piled high with goods of various kinds. There was even a small herd of reber, their woolly coats dripping and their bellies dark with mud.
Suddenly she felt a soft but insistent tapping on her shoulders and head. As cold moisture penetrated her dress she hastily created a shield to shelter herself, Tanner and Malia from the rain. Dakon and Jayan were striding towards the fallen bridge, taking their own shields with them.
Should she follow? There was nothing she could do that they weren’t more capable of handling. But it was possible someone had been hurt. Taking care to make sure Malia was still sheltered by a shield, Tessia began to climb out of the wagon.
“Oh, Apprentice Tessia, should you be leaving the wagon?” Malia asked anxiously. “What if someone tries to take something?”
Tessia paused, looked around and smiled. “What? While you and Tanner are on board? They wouldn’t dare.”
It wasn’t easy climbing off a wagon wearing a dress – at least with any kind of dignity. The hem caught on a protruding piece of wood, and she paused to tug it free.
“But it’s a mess,” Malia said anxiously.
“All the more reason to have a look,” Tessia replied, stretching a leg towards the ground. It didn’t quite reach, but she was close enough. She let herself drop.
And felt her foot sink deep into mud.
Looking down, she lifted her skirt enough to see that she had sunk well past the top of the dainty boots Malia had dug up from some store of feminine clothes in the Residence – possibly Dakon’s mother’s. They had been a compromise. Tessia had wanted sturdy boots for the journey, while Malia had wanted her to wear delicate shoes worthy of palace courtiers.
Holding on to the wagon for support, Tessia reached out with her other foot, seeking firmer ground. Fortunately she found it a mere step away. With one leg now on a solid base, she pulled her foot from the mud.
And it slid out of her dainty boot, leaving the mud free to slowly slump and cave in over the top. Malia sighed.
“See what I mean?” she said sadly. “Probably ruined them. Should I dig it out?”
Tessia looked up at Malia and felt a stab of guilt. The poor girl would have quite a job cleaning mud off clothes and shoes tonight. Then she looked at the shrinking hole. Muddy shoes shouldn’t put anyone off helping others. Still, there was no need to make Malia’s life any harder than necessary.
Ignoring the lingering headache from Dakon’s lessons, Tessia focused her mind on the ground and exerted her will. Mud now flowed away from the hole. As the edge of the leather appeared she concentrated on building a magical force down and around the shoe, cupping it and drawing it up. It came free with a sucking sound. She grabbed it and felt liquid sloshing around inside, tipped it upside down to let the water out, then slipped it back on her foot. Malia made a wordless protest.
Tessia looked up and shrugged. “If I walk around without a shoe I’m going to get my stockings just as dirty.”
Malia wrinkled her nose in reply.
Turning away, Tessia headed towards the bridge. A large horse stood tethered nearby, broken harness still hanging from flanks and neck. Jayan and Dakon were standing on one side of the bridge, hands on hips and, from the looks on their faces, arguing. She caught a few words as she approached.
“—me do it.”
“No, it’s too easy to break a rib or—”
As she rounded the remains of the bridge she saw what they were discussing. A man was clinging to one of the broken support columns, midstream. He wore the typical leather vest of a metal worker. I can’t believe they’re arguing about this. He could fall in at any moment.
“How long has he been there?” she asked, moving quickly to Dakon’s side. “He looks tired.”
Jayan’s mouth closed with an audible snap and he looked away. Dakon glanced at her, than back at the stranded metal worker. His eyes narrowed.
The man’s eyes flew open as he began to move away from the column. He gave a shout and clawed at the beam; then, as he was drawn too far away to reach it, scrabbled at the air. Then he belatedly realised he was moving upward, not falling downward, and he went limp. It was a strange sight, this sodden, stunned man floating slowly through the air towards the bank of the stream.
When his feet met the ground his legs folded and he collapsed. Tessia moved to his side. He didn’t appear to have any wounds. His gaze was unfixed and he was breathing rapidly. She felt for his pulse and counted. His skin was cold. He needed warmth and dry clothing.
Looking up, she found a ring of people standing around her, their expressions full of curiosity and puzzlement. Dakon stood within the ring, watching her with an unreadable expression.
“He’s dazed,” she told him. “He needs drying out and warming up. Is there anyone here who knows him? A relative? Friend?”
“Boy was with him,” a man in the crowd said, stepping forward. “Washed up downriver. Drowned.”
A son? Or apprentice? She grimaced and looked down at the man, whose distant expression hadn’t changed. Perhaps he hadn’t heard. She hoped so. That was the last piece of information he needed right now.
“I’d take him home to his wife.” The speaker glanced at the bridge. “I’m headed that way, but . . .” He waved at the broken bridge.
Home is on the other side, she guessed.
“I’ll deal with that,” Dakon said. “Stay here.” As he walked away the small crowd parted to let him through. Jayan hurried after. The pair approached the trees that grew on one side of the road, part of a forest maintained by the local lord, and disappeared in the undergrowth.
Tessia looked at the man who had spoken, then glanced down at the prone metal worker.
“You know him?”
The man shrugged. “I’ve bought wares from him. He lives in Little Smoketown, a way down past the stream.”
“Serves him right,” someone in the crowd said. “Took too much weight over the bridge.”
“Didn’t wait, either. Travellers aren’t supposed to cross more than one cart at a time,” someone else argued. “Lord Gilar said so.”
“How’re we supposed to know that?” another said. “If your lord knew the bridge might break, he should’ve fixed it.”
“Have to now,” the first speaker said quietly.
“Won’t,” said a short, stocky man who had come up to peer at the metal worker. “Too miserly. He’ll make us use the southern bridge.”
Groans came from several onlookers, and a few muttered curses. The crowd had crept forward, drawn by curiosity and the conversation.
“This road is the most direct route for Lord Dakon to take to the city,” Tessia told them. “If Lord Gilar is resistant to local voices, maybe my master’s need for a safe bridge will persuade him.”
The crowd fell silent and she guessed they were wondering whether she would repeat what they’d said to Lord Dakon. Expressions became wary. She could not help wondering if people living on Dakon’s land spoke as resentfully of him. Would he leave a dangerous bridge in place? But Lord Gilar had left instructions to prevent the bridge’s fall, and perhaps he was in the process of dealing with the problem. Perhaps he was waiting for materials or skilled workmen to arrive, or for safer weather to be working in.
A distant thud drew everyone’s attention to the forest. She felt it in the ground, through her soggy boots. People turned to stare expectantly. Small trees quivered as something disturbed them, each one closer to the road. Finally the undergrowth parted and a huge log slid forward onto the mud.
It was as thick as a man was tall, and longer than three wagons and their horses standing end to end. The bright pale fresh wood where branches had been cut away stood out from the darker, wet bark. Dakon and Jayan stepped out of the forest. They paused in discussion for a moment, then Dakon moved closer to the trunk. He stared at it intently.
A crack split the air, and the log fell into two halves, split down its length.
Tessia heard gasps from all around. Possibly from her own mouth as well. Well, that was impressive, she thought.
All watched as magician and apprentice slid the log halves forward, curved side down like the hulls of boats. They pushed them across the bloated stream to settle beside each other, making a flat platform with a small gap between. Dirt around the end of the logs swelled outward, allowing the new bridge to sink into the ground and raising the road surface to meet the flat top of the logs.
Jayan crossed the new bridge and balanced on the other end as he repeated the embedding process on the other side.
One day I’ll be able to do that, Tessia thought. Clearly they used their power to shift the log, but what sort of magic did they use to split it? Or cut it down in the first place? The ends of the trunk hadn’t been split or burned. Clearly, she had a lot to learn. Suddenly the knowledge that she would one day be able to use magic in such impressive and useful ways was exciting and appealing. It’s not all about fighting after all.
Jayan returned to Dakon’s side, then the pair turned to look at her. Dakon nodded towards the wagon meaningfully. She realised he intended to cross the new bridge first, to demonstrate that it was safe. People had begun to head for their carts, and soon a queue would form before either end of the bridge.
She looked down at the metal worker. With magic she could dry him out and warm him up, but in the state he was in it would only terrify him further. She looked up at the man who had volunteered to return him to his home.
“Have you got any blankets?”
The volunteer met her gaze, and nodded. “I had better get my cart.” Then he grimaced and looked at the river. “And I suppose I’d better fetch the boy, too,” he added.
She gave him a grim smile of thanks. “Do it quickly and I might be able to arrange for you to follow us across the bridge.”
He hurried away. Tessia headed for the wagon. Though she would have preferred to accompany the metal worker to his home and make sure he was treated properly, he appeared to be in good hands. She was not the local healer and the man had no serious injuries. Her father always knew when to insist and when to let people take care of themselves.
Still, if Dakon was willing to wait a little, the metal worker might get home sooner. And if his helper crossed the bridge after them, he would probably remain behind them until he turned off the road. If the sick man took a turn for the worse, she would be close by and still able to assist.
The only objects Tessia could see were the sphere of light floating above them, the wagon, its occupants, the horses that pulled it, and a circle of constantly shifting ground below them. Nothing broke the darkness on either side, though occasionally a tiny pair of eyes flashed in and out of sight. If it weren’t for the endless flow of rutted road surface passing below them, she’d have wondered if they were moving at all, or simply bumping up and down on the spot.
Dakon’s games had ended hours ago. Much earlier they had said farewell to the metal worker’s helper, as he pulled up before a shop in a small village. The incident at the bridge might have happened days before, it felt so long ago.
Travelling was not as exciting as it ought to be, Tessia decided. It involved long stretches of discomfort and boredom. And hunger. The delay at the broken bridge meant travelling in darkness, well past their usual mealtime.
The evenings were usually much more pleasant. They’d stayed with a village master the first night. Every village and town had a master who oversaw the work of the locals, and the houses they lived in contained a few extra rooms for when their own or any passing lord visited. The next night they’d stayed with a town master of Lord Gilar’s, and tonight they would be staying with Lord Gilar himself.
Suddenly Jayan straightened in his seat. Moments before he had been snoring softly, in danger of slumping against Dakon – she had been half hoping he would, just to see his embarrassment, but also hoping he wouldn’t as it would embarrass Dakon. Now his eyes widened with hope.
“A light,” he said. “We’re nearly there – at last.”
Tessia turned to see a single, lonely light ahead of the wagon. It flickered in the misty air. As they drew near she saw it was a simple oil lamp hanging from a pole where another road intersected with the main thoroughfare. Tanner directed the horses onto the side road.
Watching the light shrink behind them, Tessia wondered whether they would have found the turn if it hadn’t been sign-posted so effectively. She figured their host must have sent a servant out to light it.
The new road was less rutted and bumpy. The horses slowed as the road slowly and steadily rose along the side of a hill. She was looking forward to reaching their host’s house, but was not looking forward to meeting the man himself. What if the bridge had failed out of neglect? She had been steeling herself these past few hours, expecting she would have to show a respect she didn’t feel, and resist the urge to speak her mind.
The wagon turned a sharp corner, leading them into a treed valley. Turning around, Tessia saw that, at the far end of this valley, a wide stone façade glowed with the light of many, many lamps.
It was bigger than the Residence. Bigger than any building she’d seen before. A high wall stretched between the two arms of the valley, broken by two towers. The only windows were tiny slots in the towers, high up. In the middle of the wall was a huge pair of wooden doors.
“Lord Gilar’s Residence,” Lord Dakon said. “It was built before the Sachakans conquered Kyralia, when there were few magicians and fortifications like this, which can only really repel non-magical attack, were worth the time and expense of construction.”
As the wagon approached the doors they began to swing open. They rolled through into a narrow courtyard. Another wall towered before them. They passed through a doorless entrance and into a covered, cobbled area.
There a short, thin man with grey streaking his black hair stepped out from between another pair of wooden doors, smaller than the ones at the front but still large.
“Lord Gilar,” Dakon said, climbing to the ground.
“Lord Dakon,” the man replied. The pair grasped each other’s upper arms briefly. As Jayan, Tessia and Malia disembarked, servants emerged from a side door. One stepped forward to murmur something to Tanner, who was now holding the halter of one of the horses. Another beckoned to Malia, who smiled and moved to the woman’s side.
“You have met Apprentice Jayan before,” Dakon said.
“Indeed I have,” Gilar said in a slightly husky voice. “Welcome back, young man. And this is your new apprentice?” He turned to smile at Tessia. “The one you mentioned in your letter?”
“This is Apprentice Tessia,” Dakon told him. “A natural – the daughter of Mandryn’s healer, Veran.”
“Welcome, Apprentice Tessia,” Gilar said.
“Thank you, Lord Gilar.”
He turned back to Dakon and gestured towards the double doors. The two magicians moved inside. Jayan followed. Tessia trailed after, noting that Malia had disappeared with the servants. She felt suddenly unsure of her place.
I’ve never been a part of a servant’s world, attending to the needs of people more important and wealthy than me. I’ve not been part of the world of powerful people either. She suddenly felt lucky to have grown up in that comfortable state between the two opposites, answering to a powerful man, but of a higher status and with greater freedoms than a servant. Though now that she considered it, the purpose of a healer was to attend to the needs of all who needed him or her, including servants. They served the servants. That ought to put them on the bottom of the service hierarchy.
“You were delayed?” Lord Gilar asked.
“Yes. I made you a temporary bridge today. When we came to the second bridge after the border post, we found it had collapsed.”
Gilar’s nodded slowly. “I know the one. I’ve been undecided whether to replace it for a while now. It was strong enough for light usage, but the road has been getting busier in recent years.”
“The rain and swollen stream probably contributed, too. A metal worker’s cart fell when it collapsed. A boy drowned.”
Gilar grimaced. “I’ll have to find out the details. I have to confess, I was hoping the bridge’s weakness would act in our favour if we were ever attacked.”
Attacked? Tessia thought. By who?
Dakon’s eyebrows rose. “More likely it would prevent locals from fleeing.” He shrugged. “The temporary bridge I made is rough and narrow. You’ll need to replace it with a proper bridge wide enough for vehicles to pass each other, and with railings for safety.”
Gilar shrugged. “Of course. But let’s leave the planning for later. Right now you and your companions would probably appreciate a bath and a meal. I’ve had the servants prepare rooms for you all.”
They’d entered a greeting hall that, despite the scale of the place, was modest in size. Gilar led them up a staircase to a corridor, then indicated rooms on either side for Lord Dakon, Tessia and Jayan.
“I’ll leave you to your baths,” he said. “I’ll see you at dinner.” A servant girl stood waiting outside Tessia’s room. As Tessia moved to the door the girl opened it for her. Within the room was the usual bedroom furniture, Tessia’s travel trunk, and a tub full of water. Two servants bent over the tub, one pouring water out of a large jug and the other holding a similar, empty vessel. The women turned, bowed to Tessia, lifted their burdens and filed out of the room.
The servant girl drew Tessia’s attention to scrubs and oils, combs and drying cloths.
“Would you like someone to help you, Apprentice Tessia?” she asked.
“No. Thank you.”
“Come out when you are ready and I’ll take you to dinner.” After the girl had left, Tessia heated the bath water with magic, then peeled off her travelling clothes. The hem of her dress was caked with dried mud. Her stockings were stained and her boots were a sad shadow of their former selves. The warm water soothed muscles aching from the jolting of the wagon and she lay quietly for a short while, glad to be still again, before climbing out and drying herself. Looking into the bath, she saw that the water was a soupy brown clearing slowly as sediment settled at the base of the tub.
I had no idea I was so dirty, she mused. And how did I manage to get mud as far up as my elbows?
She changed into a clean dress, then combed out her hair and tied it neatly back. Then she opened the door to her room and peered out. The girl servant was waiting outside. She nodded to Tessia.
“Follow me, Apprentice Tessia.”
“Have Lord Dakon and Apprentice Jayan left already?”
“Yes, Apprentice Tessia.”
They embarked on another journey through the house, down to the lower level. The servant stopped at a doorway and with a graceful gesture indicated that Tessia should enter.
“The Lady Pimia and her daughter Faynara await within,” she said.
Moving through the door, Tessia saw that two women were seated at a small round table. One was older, though perhaps not as old as Lord Gilar. Tessia guessed she was Lady Pimia. The younger woman was short and curvaceous, with a pretty face. Both looked up at Tessia, then rose to greet her.
“You are Apprentice Tessia?” the older woman asked then, not waiting for an answer, continued, “I’m Lady Pimia and this is Faynara. Please sit down. You must be starving. The servants are ready and will bring the first course immediately.”
Tessia let herself be ushered to a chair. As she sat, the other two women returned to their seats. Tessia looked around the room, though more to confirm her suspicions than to examine her surroundings. There were no other tables or chairs.
“Thank you for arranging the bath, Lady Pimia,” Tessia said. “Will Lord Gilar and Lord Dakon be joining us?”
Lady Pimia waved a hand. “No, no. The men will be eating together. They have important things to discuss. Magic. Politics. History.” She shrugged dismissively and Faynara made a face. “We would hardly get a word in if we all ate together.”
Tessia felt a pang of disappointment. Was it usual for women apprentices – or even magicians – to be excluded from “important” discussions? She felt a pang of jealousy and annoyance. Why should Jayan get to talk about magic, and not she? Well, I can’t be sure Jayan is there. It might just be Gilar and Dakon, two magicians nattering about whatever magicians natter about, while Jayan is eating somewhere on his own.
“So how did you come to be an apprentice magician?” Faynara asked.
Without warning, Takado’s leering face flashed into Tessia’s mind. She ignored it and the contempt it roused. “By accident. I didn’t even know I’d used magic until Lord Dakon told me, and then he wasn’t sure until he tested me.”
“You’re a natural!” Faynara exclaimed, smiling with delight. “How lucky for you. What did you do before then?” A tiny crease had appeared between Lady Pimia’s eyebrows.
“I assisted my father, who is a healer.”
“Ah,” Pimia said approvingly. “That would explain why you speak so well.”
“I have magical ability,” Faynara said proudly.
Tessia looked at the girl with interest. “How many years have you been learning?”
“Oh, I’m only a latent.” Faynara shrugged.
Tessia frowned. “Latent?”
“We decided not to develop Faynara’s powers,” Lady Pimia said, smiling at her daughter. “She wasn’t interested in becoming a magician, but her ability should bring a fine choice of suitors. Her older brother is apprenticed to Lord Ruskel of Felgar ley.”
“So... does learning magic deter suitors?” Tessia asked hesitantly. The two women laughed quietly. “Perhaps,” Pimia said. “Mostly, learning magic would take up too much of Faynara’s time and she would gain little benefit from it, apart from a few useful tricks. She’s better off learning the arts of running a home and being a good wife.”
“You can’t become a magician just for a few useful tricks,” Faynara added, grimacing. “You have to go all the way. That takes years. There’s no point marrying and having children until you’re finished, and you have to go wherever your master goes.”
Tessia thought about Jayan’s view that a magician has a responsibility to protect his people and his country. She wondered what he would think of Faynara’s dismissal of her opportunity to become a magician. Gilar’s daughter would be of no use to Kyralia if it was attacked.
Or would she? As a latent magician, she would be a powerful source of magic. Listening to the young woman list the advantages of not learning magic, which included the ability to shop and visit friends in Imardin whenever she wanted, Tessia found it hard to imagine Faynara being a dedicated student.
Then she remembered Lord Dakon’s lesson about physical limitations restricting what a magician could do with his or her power. Perhaps there were mental limitations as well. While teaching someone who did not apply himself would be difficult, teaching someone who simply did not take her power seriously could be dangerous.
“Gilar informed me that you will be staying a day, then leaving the morning after,” Pimia said. “We will have to think up an entertainment for you to enjoy tomorrow.”
Tessia smiled and nodded. I wonder what these women consider entertainment?
“Is this your first visit to Imardin?” Faynara asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh!” Faynara clapped her hands together. “How exciting for you. I must tell you who the best jewellers, shoemakers and tailors are!”
Although she doubted Dakon’s allowance would extend far enough for such luxuries, Tessia decided she might as well take the young woman’s advice. Even if she did not need it herself, she might be socialising with women who felt such things were important.
After all, if I’m not going to be included in important discussions, I might have to have unimportant ones with women like Pimia and Faynara. It will be useful to know what they consider good conversation... and entertainment.
The night before they had set off for Imardin, Dakon had told Jayan about the Circle of Friends and the true purpose of his visit to Imardin. The information had left Jayan feeling both shock and pride. He was pleased Dakon had decided to entrust him with the secret, but horrified by the possibility that their fears might be proved justified, and Kyralia be invaded by Sachaka again. Annoyingly, he couldn’t enjoy his new status as confidant because every time he thought about it, he inevitably wound up worrying about the future. Was he ready for battle, if it came? Was Kyralia?
When he considered the possibility of Dakon’s being killed he felt a tightness in his chest. He hadn’t realised how much he had grown to respect and like his master and teacher. He found himself worrying about Tessia, too. If they faced an attack, Dakon would need his help. But Tessia was too new to magic to be an effective fighter. She did not have the time or inclination to become one, either. She would need protecting. But his loyalty must be to Dakon first. He had to trust that the magician would protect Tessia, or else send her away somewhere safe.
Dakon didn’t want Tessia knowing the real reason for his trip to Imardin. Travelling far from her parents for the first time would be challenging enough, without adding to it the fear of an attack from Sachaka. This first trip to Imardin ought to be an enjoyable one.
So, not surprisingly, she had not been admitted to the dinner conversation tonight. Apparently she’d eaten with Lord Gilar’s wife and daughter. That would have been a new experience for her. It’s obvious Gilar chose Pimia to be his wife for her magical bloodline, not her intelligence, and Faynara isn’t much better. Still, they’re well mannered. They wouldn’t look down on Tessia openly, or try to manipulate or trick her.
Conversation between Dakon and Gilar had been almost solely about the threat from Sachaka and Dakon’s coming meeting with the king. Lord Gilar had switched between declaring that no Sachakan would ever dare to invade Kyralia to believing they were all doomed, then back again. These shifts from confidence to despondency confused Jayan at first, then disappointed him.
Lord Gilar is a bit mad, I suspect. He’s got no grasp on reality. I can’t imagine him being a help during battle – more a hindrance. Dakon had to talk Gilar out of battle-training his farmers or getting them to abandon their crops and animals to spend months building walls around his borders. Jayan wondered if Gilar’s education had included any battle strategy at all. The man overestimated how long a physical barrier could delay a magician. One moment he couldn’t see the value of his people as sources, the next he was excessively concerned about not letting them become a resource for the enemy.
By the time dinner ended Jayan was exhausted from suppressing the desire to tell the man what an idiot he was, and immensely grateful to have a teacher as sensible as Lord Dakon. I pity any apprentice who finds himself receiving lessons from Lord Gilar.
They finished late in the night, long after the women of the house had retired to bed. Instead of heading to his room, Dakon indicated he wanted Jayan to follow him into the small seating room next door.
“Not tired?” Jayan asked.
Dakon grimaced. “Of course, but we don’t get much opportunity to talk privately at the moment. What did you think of Lord Gilar?”
Jayan sat down. “I’m surprised he’s a member of the Circle of Friends.”
“Oh? He’s a country magician. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“He’s hardly the reliable type. Constantly changing his mind.” Dakon chuckled. “I think if all doubts of an invasion were allayed he would be much more... decided.”
“All doubts allayed meaning an invasion taking place?”
“Yes.”
“Until that happens can you rely on his support?”
“Oh, yes. But he’s a man who finds it easier to follow the guidance of others than decide on action himself. The trouble is, within the Circle there are conflicting opinions on whether we need to make preparations, and what they should be.” Dakon stretched and yawned. “Gilar does have good intentions, he just isn’t always consistent in carrying them out.”
Jayan thought of the bridge, and nodded.
“Whereas there are some in Imardin who are quite the opposite,” Dakon continued. “Their intentions are not so good, and they are astute at carrying them out. We will have to tread carefully.”
“But surely it is in their interest to help us. There can’t be much benefit to letting the enemy invade, unless...do you think some are traitors? Most Kyralian families contain some Sachakan blood, if you look back a few generations.”
“No. Not yet, at least, and I doubt it would be for that reason. After two hundred years I don’t think there are any who would not consider themselves Kyralian. They would rather think of themselves as descendants of the Kyralians who gained us independence than of the Sachakans who conquered and ruled the previous generations.”
“You should hear my father talk.” Jayan grimaced. “He says it was only breeding with Sachakans that brought toughness into the Kyralian race. Sometimes I think he’d like to thank them personally.”
Dakon smiled. “Yet is he still proud to be Kyralian?”
“Stiflingly,” Jayan replied. He sighed. “I don’t think he’d like to see Kryalia invaded. Surely to suggest allowing such a thing would be considered traitorous?”
“Some will reason that if only the country leys are overtaken they will not be affected. They will be tempted to strike a bargain, give the Sachakans some land in exchange for avoiding a war. We must convince them that, in the long term, they will suffer for it.”
“Do you think they’re expecting us, and have prepared?”
“Perhaps. It is no great secret that the country magicians have formed an alliance of sorts due to fear of invasion.”
No great secret. “Gilar didn’t seem particularly careful. Tessia was a bit puzzled by his comments about the bridge being a barrier to invasion.”
Dakon frowned, then sighed. “I’ll have to tell her eventually. It’s just...it’s a bit cruel so soon after she’s discovered her powers. One moment she has a wonderful gift, the next she might have to use it to fight in a war.”
Jayan felt a stab of alarm. “Fight?”
“Well...be a source, not literally fight. But it still involves risk.” Dakon looked over at Jayan, his face suddenly thoughtful. “I’ve noticed that while you are being nicer to her, she still appears wary of you.”
Jayan grimaced. “Yes, I don’t think she’s forgiven me for being so tough on her when she first arrived.”
“Has your opinion of her changed?”
“A little,” Jayan admitted grudgingly.
“What changed it?”
Shifting in his seat, Jayan avoided Dakon’s gaze. “Something... happened. Before we left. I was trying to be friendly, but instead sounded like an idiot. She got all defensive. I don’t remember exactly what . . .” He paused, remembering the moment and feeling an echo of realisation and admiration. “It wasn’t what she said, but the way she said it.” He shook his head. “And then it was as if I could see into the future. When she knows what she’s talking about, she has such conviction. I imagined what that would be like, when she was older and more confident, and it was almost . . . scary.”
Dakon chuckled. “You’re right, of course. She is a natural. It’s possible she’ll surpass us both in power, and she has the focus and discipline of someone already used to study.”
Jayan paused. Dakon hadn’t quite taken in what he had been trying to say. I wish I was better at explaining things like this. But he wasn’t sure how to. Once he’d found something to like in Tessia, her fixation on healing and demands on Dakon’s time had suddenly become unimportant. And he began to find more things about her to like. Her practicality and lack of fussiness. How she was more inclined to hide discomfort to the point of her own detriment, rather than complain. The hints he had caught of a great store of healing knowledge, which in itself was amazing in someone so young.
But he had no idea how to communicate this, or to apologise for his earlier behaviour. So she continued to assume he hated her, and she hated him in return. How am I supposed to let her know I no longer resent her, when I’d have to admit why I resented her in the first place? And when she ignores me all the time anyway.
“Do you think she’ll ever lose this interest in healing?” he asked.
“I hope not. Plenty of magicians waste their spare time on worse things.”
“Would the Healers’ Guild accept her?” Jayan wondered aloud. He’d not heard of any magician receiving training through the Healers’ Guild, or any other trade guild for that matter. Maybe they gave some assistance to magicians, but the idea they’d take one on as a student was, well, ludicrous.
“Maybe. She may not want to join them, since she won’t need their endorsement in order to earn a living.”
Jayan frowned as he considered, again, his earlier assessment of her future. He’d doubted that she would be given highly paid magical tasks due to her lowly origins and lack of connections to powerful families. Perhaps he could help her, when the time came. Perhaps she would make some influential friends while they were in Imardin.
“So how are you going to keep Tessia occupied while you’re meeting the Circle and the king?”
Dakon smiled. “Oh, Everran’s wife will keep her well and truly distracted.”
Jayan winced. “You’re going to leave her in Avaria’s hands?”
“She’ll be fine.” Dakon sighed and rose. “Best get some sleep. Lady Pimia is bound to have some foolish activity planned for us tomorrow, and Gilar will no doubt want to talk more.”
Jayan stood up and moved towards the door of his room. Would the women Tessia spent her time with in Imardin accept her? They could be cruel, when they took a dislike to someone.
Then I’ll make it known that I don’t approve. There are, at least, some benefits to being the son of an influential, if unlikeable, Kyralian patriarch. Perhaps it will be a way to make up for being mean to her at the beginning.
He stepped into his bedroom and closed the door.
I just have to learn to stop saying things that she can take the wrong way.
At first Tessia caught a glimpse of a strange flat area in the dip between two hills and wondered what it was. It looked like a second sky, but darker, and it lay where there should have been land.
Then the wagon rolled around the curve of a hill and a great expanse of blue appeared. She knew it must be the sea. What else could it be? Flat, yet constantly stirring as if alive. Rippled like the surface of a pond tickled by the wind, occasionally foaming like a river running fast. And there were objects on the water she had only seen in paintings. Tiny, tiny ships, and even smaller boats.
She hadn’t yet grown used to the sight when Imardin came into view.
It had been clear they were drawing close. The road had grown busier, populated with a constant flow of people and their carts, wagons and domestic beasts. It wound alongside the wide Tarali river towards a range of southern hills. She had been told the city sat at the foot of the first hill. She had also been told that it lay where the river flowed into the sea, allowing safe mooring for ships at its docks.
As the wagon continued past the hill, a blanket of stone and roof tile appeared and she stared in amazement.
“You look surprised, Tessia,” Jayan observed, smiling smugly.
“It’s bigger than I expected,” she admitted, quashing her annoyance.
“Imardin is a third the size of Arvice, Sachaka’s main city,” Dakon told her. “But Sachakans prefer sprawling single-storey mansions. Kyralians build two- to three-storey houses, closer together so they fit more in a smaller space.”
She turned to look at him. “Have you been to Arvice?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, but the description came from a friend not given to exaggeration.”
Looking back at the city, Tessia tried to match landmarks with those she’d seen on maps and drawings. The road they were travelling on, which had been paved for some time now, crossed the city in a gentle curve, then continued along the coast.
On the side we’re approaching from it’s called the North Road, within the city it’s the Main Road, and on the other side it becomes the South Road, she reminded herself. All very simple and logical.
Five wide streets ran parallel to the Main Road, each a measure further up the hill. From the docks another wide thoroughfare climbed upward, crossing all six roads, to the Royal Palace. This was King’s Parade, and where it met the Main Road there was a wide area called Market Square.
The tangle of buildings before her hid most of these features. She could see that some rooftops followed the line of the roads, but mainly they were a muddle of different shapes and sizes. Only the towers of the Royal Palace, at the high side of the city, were distinct. As the wagon reached the first structures along the road it became even more obvious that this was not the ordered, clean city that the maps had suggested.
These first dwellings were hovels clearly made from salvaged materials. They were half hidden behind droves of dirty, thin people in ragged, tattered clothes. A woman whose wide grin exposed a few remaining blackened teeth limped up to the wagon, holding up a basket of wrinkled fruit. She did not come too close, Tessia noticed. Others approached as the wagon passed, offering wares no fresher or more appealing. Looking beyond them, Tessia saw that arms were rising in appeal among an endless row of people huddling by the hovel walls, like a flowing salute to the passing wagon. Beggars, she realised, holding out hands or vessels for coin. Looking closer, she saw sores that should be cleaned and covered, signs of illness caused by bad diet. Growths that could be cut away easily enough by a skilled surgeon. She smelled refuse and excrement, infection and stale sweat.
She felt paralysed. Shocked. These people needed help. They needed an army of healers. She wanted to leap out of the wagon and do something, but with what? She had no bag of medicines and tools. No burner to sear a blade clean. No blade to sear clean. And where would she start?
A wave of depression swept through her, like a squall of ice-cold rain chilling her to the core. As she sank into her seat she felt eyes close by, watching her. Lord Dakon. She did not look up. She knew she’d see sympathy and right now she resented that.
I ought to be grateful that he understands. He knows I want to heal these people, but can’t. I don’t want his sympathy, I want the knowledge, resources and freedom to do something to help them. And an explanation of why they live like this – and why nobody else has done anything about it.
The road widened abruptly and they entered an open space. To one side she could see ships and boats tied up to long wooden walkways that extended into the river. On the other a broad road ascended between large stone houses. This, she realised, must be Market Square.
“Should there be stalls here?” she asked.
“Only on market day – every fifth day,” Dakon replied.
The wagon turned and slowly moved with the flow of other vehicles making their way towards King’s Parade. Progress was slow. Occasionally a large and spectacular covered wagon would force its way through, gaudily dressed men using short whips to enforce demands that other travellers move aside. Tessia wondered why nobody protested against this casual brutality. The finely dressed couple and three children she glimpsed inside one such wagon didn’t seem aware of it. Lord Dakon said and did nothing, but she was relieved when he did not order Tanner to speed their way with his whip, either.
She also noticed that most traffic avoided the centre of the road. Even the fancier wagons only dared swing out into the middle if they could leave it again immediately. When two riders came cantering up the centre gap, wearing identical clothing, she guessed that they were servants of some sort headed for the palace. There must be a law against blocking the path of anyone using the road for royal business, and the penalty or punishment must be severe if even those within the fancier wagons were keen to avoid it.
“See these buildings to the left?” Dakon said, drawing her attention from the traffic to the large, pale-stoned walls nearby. “They were built by the Sachakans during their rule here. Though they embraced the Kyralian way of building multiple-storey homes, they imported the stone from quarries in the mountains of their land.”
“How?” she asked; then, as she realised the answer was obvious, she shook her head. “Slaves.”
“Yes.”
“Who lives there now?”
“Whoever was lucky enough to inherit or wealthy enough to buy them.”
“People want to live in houses built by Sachakans?”
“They are well designed. Warm in the winter, cool in the summer. The best of them have bathing rooms with piped hot water.” He shrugged. “While we consider Sachakans barbaric for enslaving others, they consider us so for being unsophisticated and dirty.”
“At least we learned when exposed to their ways. We adopted their technologies, but they remained slavers,” Jayan said.
“They gave us back our independence,” Dakon pointed out. “Through negotiation, not war, which was a first for Sachaka. Did that willingness to talk rather than fight stem from our influence?”
Jayan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps.”
“What was Kyralia like before the Sachakans came?” Tessia asked.
“A lot of independently ruled leys that were in conflict with each other as often as they were at peace,” Dakon told her. “No one ruler controlled all, though the lord of the southern ley was by far the most powerful. Everyone came to Imardin to trade, and he grew rich on the wealth that came from controlling the centre of commerce.”
“Is King Errik descended from that lord?”
“No, the southern lord died in the invasion. Our king is descended from one of the men who negotiated our independence.”
“How did magicians live before the invasion?”
“There weren’t many, and most sold their services to ley lords. No more than seven are mentioned in the few records left from that time. There is no description of higher magic, either. Some people believe the Sachakans discovered higher magic, and that was why they conquered so many lands so quickly. But eventually they lost them again as the knowledge of higher magic spread in those lands and local magicians began to equal them in strength.”
The wagon turned into one of the side streets. Realising she had forgotten to count the streets, Tessia glanced around for some indication of which one they had entered. On the wall of one of the corner buildings was a painted metal plaque.
Fourth Street, it read.
Remembering her lessons on Imardin, Tessia knew that people living in houses closer to the palace were usually more important and powerful than those living further down the hill, although it wasn’t always true. Some powerful families lived closer to Market Square because they or their predecessors had lost their wealth but not their influence, or perhaps because they simply liked their house and didn’t want to move. But the opposite did not happen: no poor or insignificant families lived above Third Street.
Tessia had wondered, back when Dakon had told her of the social structure in Imardin, if there was a constant shuffle of householders as wealth and influence waxed and waned. He had told her that houses changed owners only rarely. The powerful families of Kyralia had learned to hold on to what they had, and only the most dramatic of circumstances wrested it from their hands.
If Dakon’s hosts lived on Fourth Street they must be important. Most of the houses that Tessia could see were Sachakan-built – or perhaps facsimiles. The wagon pulled up before a large wooden door within a recessed porch. A man dressed in uniform stepped forward and bowed.
“Welcome, Lord Dakon,” the man said. He nodded stiffly to Jayan, “Apprentice Jayan,” and then, to her surprise, towards herself. “Apprentice Tessia. Lord Everran and Lady Avaria are expecting you, and bid you enter and join them for afternoon refreshments.”
“Thank you, Lerran,” Dakon said, climbing out of the wagon. “Are the lord and lady well?”
“Lady Avaria has been a bit low and slow, but much better this past month.”
Tessia smiled. “Low and slow” referred to the assumption that someone who appeared pale and tired probably had a cool body and a slow heartbeat. It was not always the case, and the saying had more to do with ideas the uneducated had come up with from overheard comments by healers.
When they had all alighted, the driver took the wagon away, steering it through a much larger opening in the house’s façade. Lerran led them through the doors. Instead of a grand greeting hall, they entered a wide passage. Dakon looked back at Tessia.
“In Sachakan homes this is known as the ‘approach’,” he told her. “The room at the end is known as the ‘master’s room’ as it is where the owner of the house greets and entertains visitors, and serves meals.”
The room they entered was huge. Benches covered in cushions were spread around the floor, and where large cabinets did not cover the walls, paintings, hangings and carvings hung. Doors led away in all directions. There was no stairway visible, so Tessia assumed access to the upper floor must be located elsewhere in the house.
In the middle of the room stood a couple, smiling at their visitors. This must be Lord Everran and Lady Avaria. They were younger than Tessia had expected, probably in their twenties. Lord Everran was a tall, thin man with typically black Kyralian hair, but his skin was darker than the norm – a pleasant golden hue. He was quite handsome in a sleek, groomed way, she decided.
Tessia had never seen a woman like Lady Avaria. Her hostess was attractive, but in a restrained way. She is what Mother meant when she tried to describe “elegance” to me, Tessia mused. But there was something in Avaria’s face – a glint of mischief in her eye, a quirk in her smile – suggesting something playful underneath the restraint. And this woman is a magician, she reminded herself.
Everran’s expression was openly pleased as he greeted Dakon, slapping his guest’s upper arms in what Tessia now concluded was some sort of greeting among important men. She noted that he did not favour Jayan with the same gesture. Lord Gilar hadn’t either, she recalled. Perhaps Jayan would not be considered important until he was a higher magician.
Lady Avaria did not follow suit. She smiled and touched Dakon lightly on the cheek.
“It is good to have you back, Dakon,” she said in a warm, low voice. She turned to Jayan. “Welcome back, Apprentice Jayan of Drayn.”
Both host and hostess had an alertness to their gaze, Tessia noted. As they turned to regard her she had the distinct feeling she was being examined with astute care. It is a good thing I’m not the sort to babble when I’m nervous, she thought as she answered their questions, and have nothing to hide. I have a feeling they’d never miss a slip of the tongue.
“A healer’s assistant?” Avaria said. “I have a friend who is in training to become a healer. I should arrange a meeting, over lunch or something.”
Tessia blinked in surprise. “I was only an assistant. They may find me, ah, rather wanting.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fascinating,” Avaria assured her. “And I’ve been looking forward to a new shopping companion.” She turned to Dakon. “Now, have you given your apprentices the usual allowance?”
Dakon chuckled. “Just as soon as we have all unpacked.”
“Prices have risen considerably since your last visit,” Avaria warned. “Since this is Tessia’s first visit she has more than the usual stocking up to do.”
Tessia felt her face warming. “I don’t—” she began then stopped as Jayan put out a hand to stall her.
“Oh, yes you do,” Jayan told her quietly, “if you’re going to survive Avaria’s company for more than five minutes.”
The lady looked back at him and narrowed her eyes. “I heard that.”
“She also has very sharp ears,” he warned Tessia.
“Five minutes.” Avaria clicked her tongue, her eyes flashing with amusement. “A whole five minutes. I shall have to do something to salvage my reputation.”
“Hanar!”
Suppressing a grimace, Hanara straightened and looked towards the voice. No self-respecting Kyralian man had a name ending in a, as their women did – or so the stable servants had told him – so they had shortened his.
The stable master, Ravern, was standing at the door. He beckoned, so Hanara put aside his shovel and walked over.
“Take this to Bregar, the store master,” Ravern said, handing Hanara a waxed tablet with writing scrawled over it. “Bring back what he gives you. And be quick, or you’ll interrupt his dinner.”
Hanara nodded his head as the other stable servants did to show respect to the man, and strode out into the late afternoon light. He tucked the tablet into his tunic, where it sat wax-side outward against his belt. Hurrying down the cartway to the gate, he paused to quickly scan the village.
No people about. It was not surprising. The air had a chill to it that promised a late snow.
Stepping out onto the road, he strode purposefully towards the large store building. It was both a shop and the place where produce made in the ley, or brought in from outside for the use of the ley’s populace, was kept. The stable master had sent him out on errands like this a few times now. Hanara suspected his trustworthiness was being tested. And his usefulness.
Reaching the store, Hanara entered and removed the tablet from his tunic. The store master was absent, so he rang the bell. Bregar shuffled into the room from a door at the back, his scowl softening into a frown when he saw Hanara. The man didn’t trust Hanara, but he never mocked him either. He reached out to take the tablet.
Bregar was a big man for a Kyralian. Hanara suspected there was quite a bit of Sachakan in his bloodline. As he watched, the store master piled up solid blocks of a glossy substance on a table, then bags of grain and a heavy ceramic jar, its stopper sealed generously with wax. All the items were for the stables, which made sense, but Hanara had noticed that he had never been sent – as other stable servants often were – to collect food for the Residence or to take items to be sharpened to the metal worker.
Bregar handed back the tablet. The pile on the table was large, and the store master set about packing everything into a wooden crate. Seeing this, Hanara dropped the tablet down his tunic front again. He would need both hands to carry the crate. As Bregar lifted the container, Hanara bent over and indicated that the man should place it on his shoulders. He straightened up, and the man frowned and made a questioning grunt.
Hanara nodded. The store master shrugged and opened the door.
Outside the light of day was failing. As Hanara started back towards the Residence, he mused that the grunt had been the closest thing to a conversation that he’d ever had with Bregar. He didn’t mind. Slaves tended to be as reticent. Chatter got you into trouble.
Halfway to the Residence something stung Hanara’s arm. He flinched and kept walking. This often happened when he was out in the village alone. Usually when the two young louts were about.
He hadn’t gone much further when he heard footsteps coming closer. As the two young men approached he felt his stomach sink. They were an irritation most of the time, but if they made him drop his burden and something broke there would be trouble back at the stables.
He kept walking. The pair moved to either side, keeping pace.
“Hanara,” one said. “Do you have a wife back in Sachaka?”
As always, he stayed silent. Kept walking.
“Do you miss her? Do you miss bedding her?”
“Does your Sachakan master do that now?”
One foot in front of the other. Their taunting was meaningless. They knew too little to hurt him. The benefit of not being allowed to care for anyone was that there was nobody that could be used against you.
“Or did he do that with you?”
It was a strange saying, this “bedding”. As if the act of human breeding was done with mattresses rather than body parts.
“I bet he’ll get into trouble if he drops those boxes.”
“That’s stuff for the Residence,” the other said.
“So? Lord Dakon can afford to replace it if it breaks. But Hanara here can’t afford to do anything wrong, or he’ll get kicked out.”
The cartway entrance was only a hundred paces away. Hanara felt a shove from one side. He swayed, keeping the load balanced. There was a shove from the other side. This time he stepped on one of the lout’s feet as he swerved. The young man swore.
“Stupid slave,” he snarled. Stepping in front of Hanara, he slammed his fist into Hanara’s stomach.
There was a crack. The young man recoiled, his face distorted in open-mouthed pain. Hanara felt the tablet shift as broken pieces fell downward to settle against his belt. He stepped round the lout and continued on his way.
From behind he heard the other lout asking what had happened.
“Don’t know. It’s like he was wearing armour. Ouch! My thumb feels like it’s broken.”
Hanara smiled. He stepped into the cartway, then couldn’t resist turning and looking back towards the village. But before he could make out the two louts in the gloom, something else caught his eye.
Beyond the village, on the ridge above, a blue light was blinking slowly in and out of existence.
His blood went cold.
Turning, he fled down the cartway to the stables, his heart racing. He couldn’t read the writing on the broken tablet down his shirt, but he was able to decode the pulsing light on the hill. The pattern represented one word. One order.
Report.
Takado had returned.
The master’s room of Everran’s house smelled of marin flowers, a crisp yet rich scent that gave the space a mood both lively and meditative. Dakon and Jayan had settled onto one of the bench chairs. They hadn’t seen Tessia or Avaria yet today. The two women had left early to explore the city, and would spend the afternoon with one of Avaria’s friends.
Everran had vanished, but now he re-entered the room rubbing his hands together eagerly.
“Our visitors should begin arriving soon.”
Dakon nodded. His father and Everran’s grandfather had been cousins, so they had a link through family ties, albeit a distant one. Dakon had continued his father’s custom of staying with Everran’s father when visiting Imardin. Then, when the man died five years ago from a seizure of the heart, his son insisted on taking over the role of Dakon’s host when he visited Imardin.
Everran was a likeable and smart young man. He had come into his inheritance too young, but he had shouldered the burden with admirable maturity, and had a good grasp of politics. It had pleased Dakon when Everran had joined the Circle of Friends, and not just because he liked the young magician. It was heartening to see that some city magicians were as concerned about the threat from Sachaka as the country lords, and willing to support their cause.
“What are they expecting?” Dakon asked. “Will they be wanting information? News?”
Everran shrugged. “No. It’s unlikely you’ll know anything they don’t already. We’ll be discussing how you should approach the king.”
“All advice is welcome.” Dakon grimaced wryly. “It’s been a long time since I met the king, and then it wasn’t on official business.”
“It’s in all our interests that you succeed. They – ah, here’s the first of them now.”
Footsteps drew their attention to the passage leading from the front entrance of the house. Everran rose and Dakon and Jayan followed suit. A short, slightly overweight man with grey in his black hair appeared, escorted by Lerran the doorman. He paused to smile and nod to Everran, and then to Dakon as Everran introduced him.
“This is Magician Wayel of the Paren family, the new trade master.”
“Congratulations. I hope it has been a smooth transition.”
Wayel shrugged. “As smooth as can be expected.”
“What is Lord Gregar up to now?” Dakon asked.
“Resting at home.” At Everran’s urging, they moved to the benches and sat down again. “I’ve heard he isn’t well. Some say he gave away the position too early and is expiring of boredom, but I’ve been told that he might have quit because he was unwell. Perhaps dying.”
Thinking of the energetic old man whose task it had been to settle trading disputes between the leys, Dakon felt a pang of sadness. Men like Lord Gregar, efficient and intelligent, were hard to find. He hoped Magician Wayel would live up to his predecessor’s standards, though he didn’t envy the man the demands of the job.
Laughter echoed down the corridor. Two men were ushered into the room. All rose to greet the newcomers.
“Lord Prinan is here on behalf of his father, Lord Ruskel,” Everran told Dakon. “Lord Bolvin is from Eyren ley.”
Lord Ruskel’s ley was located at the south-eastern end of the mountains bordering Sachaka. It had been Ruskel who had stumbled upon the three “lost” Sachakan magicians in his land, Dakon remembered. Prinan was a young, newly independent magician, trained by his father. He greeted Dakon with nervous deference. Dakon noted that Everran had adopted the new habit of using the title “Lord” for an heir to a ley or house, helping to indicate which offspring would inherit. It was a new custom, which he’d noticed becoming popular during his last few city visits. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
He had met Bolvin some years before, but the man had changed considerably. Several years older than Prinan, and a full head taller, Bolvin had an air of maturity not usually found in one so young. He, like Everran, had inherited too young when his father had disappeared with his ship during a storm; he had an entire ley to manage as well as the family fortune.
Eyren ley was on the west coast, far from any immediate danger in the event of an invasion, yet Lord Bolvin’s expression was serious and sympathetic as he greeted Dakon. This one understands that the threat will not be over if a few border leys are overrun, Dakon thought.
Before they had finished their greetings another voice came from the room’s entrance.
“Ah, good, I’m not the only early arrival.”
A tall, slim, middle-aged man walked gracefully into the room. Dakon recognised the man with surprise.
Everran laughed. “You’re actually on time for once, Lord Olleran.”
Olleran was very much a city lord, who had admitted in the past (when turning down invitations to stay with lords outside the city) that he found the country boring and dirty. But it wasn’t that which made his presence at this meeting so surprising. He was also married to a Sachakan. He came forward to grasp Dakon’s arm.
“Welcome back to Imardin, Lord Dakon,” he said. “In case you’re too polite to ask, it was my wife who convinced me that I should join your cause. She says she likes Kyralia just how it is and ordered me to find and help anyone who was doing something to keep it that way.”
Dakon smiled. He had heard it said that Lord Olleran’s early failures in courtship stemmed from a preference for difficult women. When the man married a Sachakan most people thought he’d finally overcome the tendency. But it turned out that this was no ordinary Sachakan woman. Though brought up to be quiet and obedient, she had thrown off her stifling upbringing upon arrival in Kyralia and had worked on a string of charity projects. Dakon had never met her, but she was popular among Avaria’s friends.
“So she believes there is a threat from Sachaka?”
“Her family does. They ordered her home. She refused, of course.” He shook his head sadly. “Which forces me to be glad she is such a disobedient wife.”
More guests arrived. Some, like Lord Gilar, Dakon knew. Some he had heard about but never met. A few were unknown to him. They included a handful of country lords or their representatives, and two more city lords. Of the latter, Dakon knew Magician Sabin by reputation. He was a skilled sword master who had studied warfare extensively. That one will have good advice if we ever face a battle, Dakon decided. But I’m not sure if he’ll be useful to me now.
Soon the room was echoing with voices and no one bothered sitting back down after greeting a new arrival. They stood in small groups, talking. Once the last magician was ushered into the room and introduced, Everran rang a small gong to get everyone’s attention. Voices fell silent. Everyone looked towards their host.
“As you know, I’ve called this meeting with a purpose other than good conversation and food – which will arrive shortly. Lord Dakon has journeyed to Imardin from distant Aylen ley to approach the king on our behalf. What we need to decide today is: what should he say to the king? What shouldn’t he say? What do we want to gain? What do we hope to avoid?”
A short silence followed as the men exchanged glances, looking to see who would speak first.
“We need an assurance that he will send out a force of magicians to retake and protect border leys if they are overcome,” Prinan said. “At least, that’s what my father said.”
Everran nodded. “And he is right.” He turned to Dakon. “This is what Lord Narvelan asked you to do?”
Dakon nodded. “Yes.”
“But isn’t it insulting to the king to suggest he wouldn’t retake leys?” Bolvin asked.
The magicians’ reaction to this was a mixture of shrugs and nods. Dakon noted how several heads had turned towards Sabin. For some reason they thought him a greater authority on the king than anyone else here.
“He would find it so,” Sabin agreed. “He would know there is more to the request than what you ask for, and be annoyed that you think him fool enough not to see it.”
“It’s all in the way you ask for it,” Olleran said, looking round. “You would have to say: “There are some, in the city, who have been heard to express the opinion that the outer leys aren’t worth fighting for in the event they are taken. What is your opinion, your majesty?’”
Sabin chuckled and looked at Olleran. “How many times have you practised that little speech?” he asked quietly.
Olleran shrugged modestly. “A few...hundred.”
“And if he wants to know who expressed this opinion, what do I say?” Dakon asked. “Will I need names?”
“Tell him lords who won’t act unless it brings them direct benefits,” Wayel growled. “Magicians unwilling to put their lives at risk, through selfishness or cowardice.”
“We must make them see a lack of action will cost them more in the long term,” Bolvin said. “The Sachakans won’t stop at a few outer leys. They will see a lack of a resistance as a sign of weakness, and take all.”
“Some will not believe that. Not until it is too late,” Sabin predicted. “Magical ability does not come only to those with foresight.”
“Or common sense,” Everran agreed. “But most of the reluctant would change their minds if an attack did come. For now they hold higher the opinions of their most powerful allies because they feel they have to, but faced with the news of an attack they might decide that, if we proved to be right about an invasion of the outer leys, we might prove to be right about the consequences of not driving the Sachakans back out.”
“They had better change their minds,” Bolvin muttered. Others nodded and a small silence followed. Dakon held his tongue. They had not answered his question, but perhaps the digression would come back round to the subject again if he waited.
“Would the more resistant help us for a fee?” Prinan asked.
The room vibrated with noises of protest.
“The king would not condone it!” Bolvin declared.
Dakon shivered. “If he allowed the Sachakans to hold our land without resistance, he would have sunk so low that allowing others to demand a fee to help us will seem a minor crime.”
“We will only buy help if we are desperate,” Everran assured him.
“If we get to that point I’m not sure I’d have much regard left for my own countrymen,” Sabin said, sighing.
Gilar nodded in agreement. “Are the Sachakans in the city a problem?” He smiled at Olleran. “Aside from your lovely wife, of course.”
“Oh, she’s a problem, just not in the way you mean,” Olleran said, with an unconvincing grimace. “More my own private little problem.”
“You do long-suffering very badly, Olleran,” Sabin said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“Most are traders,” Wayel said, ignoring the banter. “And there’s Emperor Vochira’s representative. A few women who married Kyralians.” He nodded to Olleran. “I expect if they are a danger it will be only in the usual ways: they may be spies, and might attempt to bribe or trick Kyralians into doing harm here.”
“The people we have to worry about,” Sabin said, “are the more powerful Kyralian families, especially those who have troubles a rich offer from Sachaka could help to solve. Debts. A lack of buyers for produce. Competitors.”
Ah, good, Dakon thought. Back to the subject of who might speak against us...
“Who?” he asked. “Are they the same people speaking out against us now?”
Wayel shook his head. “It may be unwise to start pointing fingers at anybody in particular. That is not a wise approach.”
Sabin nodded. “What the lords think is irrelevant. They will not be making the decision to regain the border leys if they are taken. The king will.”
“So should Dakon try to convince the king that the leys are worth keeping?” Prinan asked.
Everran shook his head. “That should only come if we are convinced he believes otherwise. Wayel is right. Mentioning adverse opinions is a dangerous justification for seeking his assurance of protection. He is bound to ask who expressed those opinions, and who passed that information on, and hesitate to believe any of it if we have no proof, and it just sounds like gossip.” He sighed. “No, it is by presenting the latest evidence we have that we can justify seeking reassurance from him.”
The others nodded. Dakon suppressed a sigh of relief. At last they were agreeing with each other.
“Plainly and simply, so he doesn’t think we’re jumping to conclusions,” Wayel added quietly.
“I don’t think there’s any danger he’ll think that of Dakon.” Everran smiled and nodded to his guest. “And if Dakon appears to need reassuring for his own benefit, rather than for the benefit of us all, it may be enough of a prompt to extract promises from the king.”
“A promise to Dakon, not us,” one of the other ley magicians pointed out.
“Would there be a difference, ultimately?” someone else asked.
“King Errik is hardly going to make such a promise to one ley magician and not others,” Sabin said quietly. “Unless, of course, he wanted to show favour – but in this case it would be foolish to risk jealousy among the country magicians. He wants them united, not competing with each other.”
“Are you sure?” Wayel asked. “He might want to use such a ploy to divide us, to stop us pestering him.”
“He won’t,” Sabin said. The others nodded in acceptance, once again demonstrating to Dakon the respect the others had for the sword master.
“So if he makes a promise, it will be to all of us?” Prinan asked.
Sabin nodded. “But I will be surprised if he makes any promises. He does not give any ground if he does not have to. At least, not in a practice bout.”
Suddenly the source of the respect the others showed the sword master was obvious. Sabin must spar with the king, Dakon thought. That would give him some insight into the man’s intellect and character. Then another possibility occurred to him. I wonder if he is one of the magicians who give magical strength to the king?
Everran sighed. “No doubt it is too much to expect, but if Dakon can extract or spark some discussion on the form and timing of the king’s aid, it would be easier for us to make plans – ah! Let’s talk about that later. Here’s the food!”
As servants entered the room carrying platters of food, glasses and flagons of wine and water, the visitors moved to the benches. Some struck up conversations with their neighbours as they ate, rehashing what they’d already covered. Dakon considered what he’d heard so far. He didn’t feel as though he’d gained much insight into how to approach the king yet. The talk had gone in circles.
As he looked at Everran, the man smiled and tilted his head toward his friends slightly as if to ask “Are you listening to this?”
Suddenly it became clear to Dakon what Everran expected. These powerful men did not like to be pushed or interrupted, especially when caught up in passionate discussion. No, it was up to Dakon to take note of what was said by whom, and select which men to approach later and ask more specific advice about the coming meeting.
And what would he ask? What he needed to know was how King Errik might react to certain approaches and suggestions. Sabin appeared to be, unexpectedly, the man closest to the king. Dakon would have chosen Wayel at first, but the man had asked some questions Dakon had expected him to know the answer to, so perhaps he was too new in his position. And the others?
When the discussions began again, Dakon decided, he would insert a few comments and questions designed to reveal more about these men. He waved away the offer of wine, opting for water instead.
As on every visit to the city Dakon had made before, it took some time to adjust to the more subtle ways matters were tackled here. This time he had to adapt fast, because the level of politics the king was involved in was a complicated and tortuous one indeed, and soon he would be meeting with the man himself.
Through the window flap of the wagon’s cover Tessia saw a frightening and thrilling sight. A great crowd of people and wagons filled the streets, all pushing in different directions. More people than wagons – and there were plenty of those. More people in one place than she’d ever seen before. The mass of them, the sense of gathered force, the roar of voices, set her heart racing.
The reason the Parade was so crowded lay at the foot of it. A mass of people had gathered there, and the sound of music rose faintly above the crowd. Flashes of colour promised strange sights.
The market.
“We should have left earlier,” Avaria said for the fourth time, sighing and smoothing her carefully pinned hair.
They had talked about Tessia’s childhood and upbringing, the reason her father had moved to Mandryn, how Tessia had discovered her powers (Avaria accepted that Takado had merely “given her a fright’) and all the interesting incidents on the journey to Imardin. Tessia was beginning to wonder if she’d used up all the significant stories of her life within her first day in the city.
She also felt as if she was talking about herself too much. But when she asked Avaria the same sorts of questions, the woman would begin an anecdote about her childhood or apprenticeship, only to be reminded of something else she wanted to ask Tessia.
“It might be faster on foot.” Tessia peered at the crowd passing the wagon.
“Not a good idea, I’m afraid. Aside from all the shoving and pushing, we’d be robbed before we got there,” Avaria said, shrugging gracefully.
“Robbed?” Tessia looked at her hostess in alarm.
Avaria smiled crookedly. “Indeed – though it is unlikely we’d notice at first. Pickpockets are very skilled in Imardin. And most are children – small and fast in a crowd. Even if you see them, your servants have no hope of catching them.”
“Children?” Tessia looked more closely at the crowd. She’d seen some appallingly thin, dirty children the day before. No surprise they were desperate enough to turn to thieving.
Her father had told her about the poor of Imardin. When she had asked him why they had no money his explanation had been long and complicated. He’d offered a list of reasons – too little work for too many people, nobody willing to offer work to people who were a bit strange in the mind, or crippled. Some people had nobody to care for them when they fell ill, and if their illness led to their no longer having work they might starve before they recovered. Some people were injured while working, and if their employers didn’t care for them they ended up in a similar situation.
It was not the first time, and certainly not the last, that she’d been told that few lords were as caring of their people and conscious of their responsibilities as Lord Dakon and his father had been. Some were fools. Some only saw their people as commodities. Some were downright malicious.
“Poor things,” Avaria said. “Born into poverty, raised to be thieves. If the city is plagued by such ills, it serves it right for not taking better care of its people.”
Tessia nodded, wondering at this way of referring to the city as if it were a person.
“But it can’t be as easy to care for a whole city as it is a village.”
“No.” Avaria smiled and her eyes glowed as she looked at Tessia. Perhaps in approval. Tessia wasn’t sure.
The wagon began moving. Tessia braced herself, expecting it to stop again, but it rolled on. Then it swung round a corner and came to a halt again.
“We’re here!” Avaria announced happily. Rising, she pulled the wagon cover open and climbed out. One of the two male servants who had ridden on the back of the wagon was already there to help her down to the ground. As Tessia stepped down the tiny ladder built against the side of the vehicle, the second servant moved forward to offer a hand. She didn’t take it, but smiled at him in gratitude anyway.
He smiled back politely and followed as she moved to join Avaria, who hooked an arm through hers.
Tessia looked around and blinked in surprise. They weren’t in the market, as she’d expected. They were in a busy side street, narrower than the main roads and lined with small shops.
“Welcome to Vanity Street,” Avaria said, patting Tessia’s arm. “Where most of the best shops in Imardin can be found.”
“Not in the market, then?”
“Oh no. That’s full of vegetables and grain and smelly animals. The only cloth you’ll find there is for making grain sacks or saddles, and the closest thing they have to books is wax accounting tablets.”
Avaria guided Tessia to one side of the street. The closeness of the other woman was unexpected, but reassuring. The street was crowded with finely dressed men and women. Musicians in pairs and trios played and sang at the side of the road and occasionally a passer-by tossed a coin into the iron cups at their feet. The cups, Tessia noted, had numbers painted on their sides.
“Come in here,” Avaria said, drawing Tessia through the door of a shop. Inside, the street noises were muffled. Two women were examining rolls of cloth laid out on a table. More rolls leaned up against the walls, in a dazzling range of bright colours. A man was standing in the doorway to another room. As Tessia looked at him he smiled and nodded politely.
“Oh, look,” Avaria suddenly exclaimed. “Isn’t this beautiful!” She led Tessia to one of the walls and tugged off a glove so she could run her fingers lightly over some smooth cloth in a deep, vibrant blue.
“I must have some of this. What colours do you like, Tessia?”
Looking around at the range of brilliant colours, Tessia couldn’t help thinking they were all a bit too gaudy. She tried to imagine each individually forming a garment, and found herself drawn to a dark green. It reminded her of one of her father’s favourite wound-salve ingredients, an oil from a tree that grew in the mountains, which smelled delicious.
Avaria picked up the bolt and held it up to Tessia’s face.
“You have a good eye,” she told her. “That will suit you very well.” She turned to the seller. “We’ll take both. Oh, and that would look wonderful on Everran.” She picked up another bolt of dark red then winked at Tessia. “Thankfully, the only bit of Sachakan bloodline left in his veins is the good one – he has such enviable skin.”
So that explains the golden tone of his skin, Tessia thought. She’d noticed interesting physical differences between the rich and powerful men and women in the city and the commoners. There was a greater variety in their height, stature and colouring, whereas commoners were more likely to be slight and pale-skinned, the more typical Kyralian characteristics.
Avaria beckoned over the man and much haggling ensued; then, from the embroidered bag tucked into the waist of her dress, she counted a sum that made Tessia slightly breathless. The cloth was wrapped and given to the servants to carry. With a satisfied sigh, Avaria led Tessia outside, hooked her arm round Tessia’s again, and continued down Vanity Street.
“What else can we buy? I know! Some shoes.”
Several shops later Avaria had bought more cloth, some shoes that were going to make Malia squeak with admiration, a bag for Tessia to store her coin in because “that thing Dakon gave you is too manly’, and some hand mirrors. When Tessia hesitated before a shop window filled with fine writing tools, paper and books, Avaria wordlessly pulled her inside. Tessia bought her father some quills and ink in a box inlaid with different types of wood. Avaria complimented her on her choice of gift.
“He’ll think of you every time he uses it.”
Next a shop filled with books caught Tessia’s eye and she was glad when Avaria headed towards it. A quick examination told her there was nothing that her father didn’t already have among the healing tomes, though. Lord Yerven had always brought back a book or two for her grandfather, after his trips to Imardin.
“Do you read novels?” Avaria asked.
“I found some when I first moved into Lord Dakon’s house,” Tessia answered, moving to join her. A small row of slim volumes sat within a long narrow display box.
“Did you like them?”
“Yes – they’re a bit... unrealistic.”
Avaria laughed. “That’s what’s so fun about them. What have you read?”
“Moonlight on the Lake. The Ambassador’s Daughter. Five Rubies.”
“Old ones.” Avaria waved a hand dismissively. “Honarand has written much better ones since then. You’ll find his island series quite enchanting.”
“The author is a man?”
“Yes. What’s so strange about that?”
“They’re always from a woman’s point of view.”
Avaria smiled. “You’d not think that so strange if you knew him. Here.” She handed over two books. “These are his best.”
Taking the two books, Tessia looked at the bookseller. “How much are they?”
“For you, twenty silver for the two,” he said.
She stared at him in astonishment. “Twenty silver? That’s more than a year’s wage for—”
Avaria laid a gloved hand on her arm and leaned close, her expression serious. “Those books are copied by hand. It takes weeks to make one. Books are expensive because they take time and paper – which is also time-consuming to make.”
Tessia looked down at the slim volumes. “Even something as, well, frivolous as this?”
The woman smiled and shrugged. “Whatever there’s a market for is worth making. There are plenty of love-lonely women in Imardin with way too much spare money to spend, stuck in marriages arranged by their parents.” She shrugged. “How much is a comforting daydream worth? But don’t pay more than ten silver for the two. I’d start haggling at five.”
Unused to bargaining, Tessia only managed to argue the man down to twelve silver, but she bought the books anyway. It pleased her hostess. Avaria had already bought her several expensive items and, Tessia suspected, would buy these as well if Tessia didn’t. And there might be times when Avaria wasn’t free to entertain Tessia while Dakon and Jayan were occupied with their important meetings.
As they left the shop Avaria gasped. “Oh, look! There’s Falia!” Suddenly she was pulling Tessia by the arm, her wandering steps lengthening to strides. “Falia sweet!”
A blonde woman in a pale pink and cream dress turned, her face lighting up with a wide smile as she saw Avaria.
“Avaria sweet!”
“This is Apprentice Tessia, who is staying with us at the moment, along with Lord Dakon from Aylen ley and Apprentice Jayan of Drayn. It’s Tessia’s first visit to Imardin.”
Falia’s eyebrows rose. “Welcome to Imardin, Apprentice Tessia.” Still smiling, she tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “Are you apprenticed to Lord Dakon?”
“Yes.”
“With Jayan as your co-apprentice.” The woman’s nose wrinkled. “Poor you! He was such a brat as a child. I hope he’s improved.” She regarded Tessia expectantly.
“I’m hardly able to judge since I didn’t know him as a br-ah-child,” Tessia managed.
Falia laughed. “Our families were close back then. Now they’re not.” She shrugged. “That’s life in the city. So what is he like as a young man?”
Tessia tried to search for the right word and failed. “Older.”
Both Avaria and Falia laughed, this time knowingly. “I guess not much has changed,” Avaria concluded. “Though he isn’t a strain to look at.”
“Really?” Falia’s expressive eyebrows rose again. “Not all bad, then. Are you two coming to the party at Darya’s?”
“Of course.”
“I was just going to buy some conecakes, then go. Would you like to come with me? There’s room in my wagon.”
“Why not?” Avaria smiled at Tessia. “I think we’ve spent all we need to spend for today, haven’t we?”
Tessia nodded. She hadn’t yet bought a present for her mother, but she was sure there’d be more shopping trips to come.
They followed Falia along the street to a shop selling spices and other food ingredients, as well as a multitude of sweet treats. Conecakes turned out to be little cone-shaped frothy breads dusted in fine sugar. Inside, Falia told her, was a little surprise of sweetened fruit puree. You could never tell which type of fruit it would be until you bit into it.
Somehow Tessia found herself holding a bag of salted tiro nuts while they waited for Falia’s wagon to arrive. When it did, Avaria sent one of her servants back to her wagon driver, who was apparently waiting on First Street, to tell him to return home without them and then be ready to collect them from Falia’s house later. The other piled their purchases inside Falia’s wagon and climbed onto the back.
The two city women chatted about people Tessia did not know during the ride to Darya’s house. Tessia was relieved that they did. She felt exhausted. Though she had only walked a distance she estimated was the length of Mandryn twice or three times over, she felt as if she’d run across the entire length of a ley.
She wasn’t so tired that she didn’t notice when they turned into Fourth Street, and drove along the opposite side of King’s Parade to the one on which Avaria’s house was situated. It wasn’t much later that the wagon stopped and the two women gracefully stepped out, making the awkward stepladder seem no more difficult than a mansion staircase. Tessia followed them to the door.
Once inside, Avaria hooked her arm in Tessia’s again. For a moment Falia looked disappointed, but then she gave a little shrug and led the way into the house.
Darya’s home was set out in what Tessia now recognised as the Kyralian style, like Lord Dakon’s Residence. The entrance opened into a greeting hall, from which stairs led up to the second storey and openings on either side invited access to the ground-level rooms.
A servant guided them to a room on the first floor with large windows overlooking the street. Three women were sitting about a round table, and rose to greet the newcomers. Tessia was surprised to see that the hostess was short, a little rounded, and clearly Sachakan. But when Lady Darya smiled her green eyes shone with friendliness.
“Avaria! Falia!” She lightly touched both cheeks of the women with her fingertips, then turned to Tessia. “And this must be Apprentice Tessia. Welcome. Sit down. Relax. Oh! You brought conecakes!”
The other women made appreciative sounds as the cakes were laid on the table. More chairs were brought by servants, and a silver platter to arrange the cakes on.
The conversation that ensued was every bit as noisy, gaudy and disorientating as the market. Tessia settled on listening, and for some time it seemed everyone had forgotten she was there. The other two women were Kendaria and Lady Zakia. Darya had married the magician son of a rich trader – and his entire family, she joked. Zakia’s husband was a city lord and magician. Kendaria’s was cousin to the king, and they lived with his older brother and their family. They spent a lot of time making fun of their husbands, Tessia noticed.
Then, when a piece of gossip had been milked of all its possibilities and everyone had fallen into a speculative silence, Avaria nodded to her guest.
“Tessia’s father is a healer, and she was his assistant before she stumbled on her powers.”
“You’re a natural!” Zakia nodded approvingly. “You must be very strong.”
Tessia shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I’m told that is the way things work.”
“Kendaria is training to be a healer,” Avaria said, giving Tessia a meaningful look.
Tessia blinked in surprise, then looked at the small, slim woman sitting beside her. “You are?” She paused. “I thought... aren’t women...?”
Kendaria laughed quietly. “Money,” she said. “Power. And the fact that there is no actual rule or law anywhere that says we can’t train to be healers. Work as one?” Her shoulders lifted, but her eyes were sharp with determination. “We’ll see about that one when we get there, though I only started because I wanted to use my skills to help friends and family.”
Hope and bitterness swept over Tessia. If her father had been rich and powerful, would she have been able to train as well? Was Kendaria the first woman to defy tradition?
The woman leaned closer. “If you like, I’ll take you to watch a dissection. Would you like that?”
A thrill ran through Tessia. She remembered her father wistfully describing what he’d seen and learned watching dissections, the few times he’d visited Imardin and the Healer’s Guild in order to improve his knowledge. His descriptions had been both horrifying and fascinating, and she’d always wondered whether she, in that situation, would faint, or would lose herself in the mysteries of the human body as he had. She liked to believe she wouldn’t faint, and wondered every time they treated a gory injury or encountered a corpse if that was test enough.
“Eugh!” Zakia said. “I don’t know how you can stand it. Don’t go if you don’t want to, Tessia. Nobody would blame you.”
Tessia smiled and looked at Kendaria.
“I’d love to.”
Dakon’s wagon pulled up in front of the imposing grey stone building, home of the Drayn family for four centuries. Jayan sighed and forced himself out of his seat. As always happened when he visited his childhood home, mixed feelings arose at the first sight of it. Memories washed over him of childish games played with his brother, teasing his younger sisters, the warmth and smell of his mother, and celebrations both formal and informal. They brought a wistful fondness, inevitably followed by a gut-sinking resentment and remembered fear, grief and bitterness as he recalled punishment for mistakes that still seemed too harsh, the terrible feeling of loss and being lost and alone after his mother had gone, and the sour realisation of what being the second son meant.
Magic had offered him an escape in more ways than one. It took him from a home that had become stifling and humiliating, and gave him the means, if needed, to be independent of his family’s wealth.
Wealth? Or is that charity?
Still, he wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t cut himself off from them. His father’s nature might never soften, but with the weakness of age it was a blunt weapon. His brother’s arrogance in youth had also faded a little with maturity, perhaps because he knew Jayan, as a magician, would not be the dependent and obedient little brother he’d anticipated pushing around for the rest of his life, perhaps because he’d learned that other people – people he wanted to impress – were repelled by his maliciousness.
The door servant bowed and opened the door. Walking inside, Jayan looked around the greeting hall. Nothing had changed. The same paintings hung on the walls. The same screens framed the windows. Another servant greeted him and led him through the house. Jayan breathed in the sight and smell of familiarity. It was like dust laced with old perfume.
Finally they reached a small room at the back of the house, furnished with two old chairs. This was his father’s favourite room, into which he had always retreated “to think”. It had been a place forbidden to small children, where stern talks and punishments were given to older children, and orders were given to adult children. The significance wasn’t lost on Jayan. His father was in the mood for imposing his will. Jayan would have to be careful.
Yet Lord Karvelan, head of family Drayn, looked smaller and more lined than Jayan remembered, as if he had dried out slightly in the year since Jayan had seen him. There was still strength in the set of his shoulders and the directness of his gaze, though. Jayan met that gaze, smiled politely, and waited for his father to speak. You always waited for Lord Karvelan to speak. It was a right he insisted on.
“Welcome back, Apprentice Jayan,” Karvelan said.
“Thank you, Father,” Jayan replied. “Did you get my message?”
Karvelan nodded. “I gather our notes crossed each other.”
“It appears so,” Jayan replied, holding up the brusque summons he had received that morning, not long after he had dutifully sent his own note informing his father of his presence in the city and enquiring if he should visit.
“Sit down,” Karvelan said, nodding at the other chair. Jayan obeyed. Karvelan was silent a moment, his expression thoughtful. Strange how I never call him “Father” in my mind. Always “Karvelan”. But Mother was always “Mother”.
“How is your training going?” Karvelan asked finally.
“Well.”
“Any closer to finishing?”
“Yes, but I can’t say how close. Only Lord Dakon can answer that question.”
“You were almost done when you last visited.” Karvelan scowled. “Is it true he has another apprentice?”
Jayan nodded. “It is.”
The scowl deepened. “This will surely delay your training. He should have waited until yours was finished.”
“He had no choice. She is a natural and dangerous if left untrained. By law he must train her.”
His father’s eyes narrowed and Jayan almost expected a scolding. Instead the old man grimaced. “Then he should have sent her elsewhere.”
Jayan shrugged. “He probably would have, if I were not close to independence. Even so, I don’t presume to question my master’s decisions. He does, usually, know best.”
Karvelan’s expression changed from approval at Jayan’s subservience to another scowl.
“Does he? What of this group he has joined? This ‘Circle of Friends’. Do you not find it an unwise move? It smells of rebellion.”
Jayan gazed at his father in surprise, then realised he was staring and looked away.
“You didn’t know I knew, did you?” There was satisfaction in Karvelan’s voice.
“Oh, the group isn’t a secret.”
“Then what?”
“That anyone... this idea that . . .” Jayan stopped and shook his head. It was never wise to phrase anything in a way that might be taken as a criticism of his father’s opinion. “Rebellion is a strong word. I assure you, the group has the encouragement and support of the king. Or...do you suggest rebellion against someone else?”
A sullen darkness had entered his father’s eyes – a look Jayan knew all too well. It was the look that Karvelan wore whenever he had reason to dislike his younger son.
“Rebellion against the city is rebellion against the king,” he growled. He shifted, his gaze sliding away for a brief moment. “I don’t want you associating with this Circle,” he said. “Links to them could reflect badly on your family.”
Jayan opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. He wanted to assure his father that the Circle of Friends was only concerned with the defence of the country. The whole country.
That he could not, in good conscience, oppose the defending of his homeland. But there was no point in arguing.
So he sighed. “Until I am a higher magician I must obey Lord Dakon. If he associates with the Circle then I have no choice but to do so as well. But...I will do what I can to remain a mere observer.”
“You should find yourself a new teacher,” Karvelan said, but without conviction. He knew that the choice, again, was out of his son’s hands. Jayan didn’t test his patience by pointing that out.
“I will do what I can,” he repeated.
“Finish your training,” his father said. “Don’t let that girl take all of Lord Dakon’s attention. She has no good reputation or alliances to lose.” He shook his head. “It is irresponsible of your master to drag you into this.”
Jayan said nothing. A silence fell between them, and when he judged it long enough to justify changing the subject, he asked how his brother was faring. While his father proudly described Velan’s conquests in trade and of women who might be acceptable marriage prospects, Jayan found himself thinking about Tessia.
No reputation to lose? he mused. No annoying family obligations to shake off, more like it. And alliances... from the way she and Avaria were talking last night, after their party, I suspect she’s doing a very good job of making friends here. With some particularly powerful women of the city, too.
And he’d been worried about her being accepted.
Suddenly he could see the attraction Tessia might have for city socialites. There were no alliances to endanger by befriending her. As a village healer’s daughter, she was educated enough to be acceptable company, different enough to provide entertainment. He could even see that her interest in healing, and determination to pursue it, made her an exciting person for city socialites to watch and admire.
Even if she failed, she would provide entertainment for the rich and bored. And, like Jayan, at least her magic would ensure she could not fall too far or too hard.
We have more in common than I thought, he mused wryly. He liked the idea that, if either of them ever fell from grace, the other might be there to offer support. It’s always easier to become friends with someone you have something in common with. I just hope it doesn’t take some socially disastrous fall before she’ll consider the possibility I might be a friend.
The healers’ university looked exactly as Tessia had imagined. Her father had described it as an “old but strange building that has adopted and absorbed surrounding houses as opportunity and funds allowed”. It sounded confusing and intriguing, and it was.
Though a muddle of interconnecting buildings, all had been built in the Kyralian style so there was a unifying look about the exterior. Inside, it was like walking through somebody’s home without ever finding the back door. Narrow corridors led to more narrow corridors. The doors on either side of the corridors were nearly all closed, so there was little natural light in the passages. Instead they were lit with the warm glow of oil lamps. The few rooms Tessia managed to look inside were no larger than the kitchen in her parents’ house, and furnished in a similar way with shelving on the walls, a table in the middle, and a fireplace at one end.
Kendaria was leading her to the dissection room. Tessia could not help wondering where in this place the healers would find a room big enough to hold both an audience the size her new friend had described and a dissection table.
Then they stepped from a doorway into a strange space. It was like the underside of a wooden staircase, except it was a very wide staircase. She could hear footsteps and voices above.
Ahead a narrow break in the “staircases” allowed access beyond, and Kendaria led her forward. They emerged into a large room. Looking around, Tessia realised that the wide stairways were actually tiered seats that sloped up to plain brick walls – some with bricked-up windows. Several young men were already sitting on the steps. They eyed her and Kendaria with interest.
The walls look like the exterior of houses, Tessia thought. She looked up. The beams of a wood and tile roof stretched overhead. This must have been a small street or a garden. They just built those seats and covered it over. Which explained why it was so cold.
In the middle of the room was a generous stone bench. From the grooves carved into it to carry fluids into buckets she guessed it was the dissection table. On another, smaller table nearby several tools had been arranged. She knew what most of them were and wondered if the rest were specifically for dissections.
“We don’t have to stay, if you’re having second thoughts,” Kendaria murmured.
Realising the woman must have noticed her looking at the tools, Tessia smiled. “No, I’m looking forward to it. Where do we sit?”
“First I need to introduce you to Healer Orran. I don’t think there’ll be any problem with my bringing you here, especially as your father is a healer and you’ve been his assistant, and we’ve paid our fee. But it’s good manners to ask, and to introduce you.”
She led Tessia to two men of about the same age as Tessia’s father. The men were talking, as far as Tessia could tell, about the pregnancy of a colleague’s wife. Just idle chatter, but though the pair both glanced at Kendaria and Tessia when they approached, they continued talking as if the two women were not present.
Kendaria waited, her gaze on the face of the taller man. Her expression was one of patience and determination. The two men still did not halt their gossiping – which was what it was, Tessia decided, when it became clear that there was nothing about the pregnancy that should concern the healers professionally. They repeated what they were saying several times, each time phrased in a different way.
Were they, by ignoring Kendaria for the sake of this pointless chatter, being deliberately rude? The longer and sillier the conversation become, the more convinced Tessia became that they were. But the woman remained calm and expectant, her eyes never leaving Healer Orran’s face. At first Tessia was puzzled, then angry at this treatment, then fascinated. Clearly a social game was taking place here, and she couldn’t help wondering why, and what the rules were.
Finally the two men’s talk became so inane it faltered into an awkward silence. The taller man sighed and turned to smile coldly at Kendaria.
“Ah, I see you have decided to join the crowd today, Kendaria of Foden,” he observed. Tessia swallowed the urge to laugh. There hadn’t been a crowd when they had arrived, but now the room echoed with the voices of many more occupants.
“Indeed I have, Healer Orran,” she replied. She nodded at Tessia. “I have brought a new friend from out of town: Apprentice Tessia from Aylen ley. Her father is healer to Lord Dakon, and she has worked as his assistant most of her young life.” She smiled. “That is until recently, when she became Lord Dakon’s apprentice.”
Both healers’ eyebrows rose.
“A magician with a touch of healer’s training,” Healer Orran said. “How interesting. What is your father’s name?”
“Healer Veran,” Tessia replied.
The two men frowned thoughtfully. “I have not heard of him,” the other healer said.
“You wouldn’t have,” Tessia told him. “He did not study here, though he has visited from time to time. His grandfather was a member of the guild. His name was Healer Berin, though he worked here so long ago I imagine you wouldn’t—”
The two men’s mouths had opened in identical circles.
“Ahh,” they both said.
Healer Orran chuckled. “Now the pieces fall into place. Good old Healer Berin. Stirred up the guild then vanished to the country.”
“We owe your grandfather a small debt for questioning our over-reliance on the star code and steering us back towards rational observation,” the other healer said. “Berin’s granddaughter, eh?” His gaze slid over Tessia’s shoulder and his eyes brightened. “Ah! Here is our corpse!”
Tessia turned to see a stretcher being carried in, a pale figure lying upon it. She felt a thrill of excitement. Most of the corpses she had seen had been of old people. This was a young male, the pale skin of his chest marred with a wound.
“Have you seen a dissection before, Apprentice Tessia?” Healer Orran asked.
“No, but I have seen a few corpses, and more of the inside of a body than most people do,” she replied. “This should be very interesting,” she added quietly.
She heard Kendaria chuckle.
“Well then,” Healer Orran said. “You had better find yourselves some seats. Most are taken, and you won’t want to sit up at the back or you might become giddy. You there!” He waved an arm at two young men sitting in the front row. “Find your manners and make space for the ladies.”
There was laughter all around as the two young men grumbled and left their seats, resignedly moving up to the back of the staircase. Kendaria smiled and winked at Tessia as they sat down.
“I think he likes you. Any time you want to see a dissection, let me know.”
Cloth sheets were brought into the room and handed to those sitting in the front row. Kendaria showed Tessia how to drape hers across her shoulders and over her knees.
“Sometimes there’s a bit of splatter,” she whispered.
The corpse was half lifted, half rolled from the stretcher onto the table. Healer Orran moved to the collection of tools, then looked up at the crowd.
“Today we will be examining the heart and lungs...”
As he explained the purpose of the dissection and told the audience what to look for, Tessia sighed happily. Father would have loved this. What will he say when he hears I was here? And he won’t believe that grandfather is now remembered with gratitude! Then she sobered. Will there be anything I can tell him that will be useful to him? I wonder...I had better pay close attention.
From his pallet in the stable loft, Hanara could see the signal light. For three nights now it had appeared, slowly flickering dimmer and brighter in a pattern all slaves were taught to read. Each time it shone from a different location, so that if anyone in the village did notice and looked for the light in the same place the following night, they would not see it. Each time it pulsed the same message.
Report. Report.
Every waking moment since first seeing it – and there had been far too many waking moments and not enough sleeping ones – Hanara had been sick with fear. There was only one person in the village that message could be for: himself. And only one person who would expect Hanara to report to him: Takado.
So far Hanara hadn’t obeyed. For three nights he had curled up on the pallet, unable to sleep until exhaustion claimed him, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the signal or didn’t know what to make of it.
But I have seen it and I do know. When Takado reads my mind he’ll know I disobeyed him.
He was not Takado’s to order about any more, he reminded himself. He was a free man. He served Lord Dakon now.
But Lord Dakon isn’t here. He can’t stop Takado coming to get me. It was possible Takado would conclude that the lack of response to his signal meant that Hanara had, indeed, been freed. Or had left the village. He might give up and leave.
Hanara almost laughed aloud.
What will he do, really? he asked himself.
Takado did not like to waste magic, so he would try to avoid conflict. He’d enter the village with the intention of asking Lord Dakon to give Hanara back to him.
Lord Dakon would say that the choice was Hanara’s to make. It was too easy to imagine that moment. Takado would then look at Hanara. So would Lord Dakon. So would everyone in the village. They would all know terrible consequences would come of Hanara’s refusing. If Takado attacked the village and anyone died as a result, they would all blame Hanara.
But Lord Dakon was not in the village. He would not emerge to meet Takado. When Takado realised there was no magician to protect Mandryn, what would he do?
He will kill me for disobeying him.
Would he then leave? Or would he, having already killed one of Lord Dakon’s people, attack the villagers as well? It was possible that, despite their dislike of Hanara, the villagers might try to protect him on Lord Dakon’s behalf. If they did, they would die.
The only other choice I have is to go to Takado.
Then Takado would read his mind and learn that Lord Dakon was absent. Would he still attack the village? Not if he wanted to avoid conflict.
Beside, he’ll also learn from my mind that there is another magician nearby ready to defend Mandryn if needed.
Hanara managed a smile, but it quickly faded. The trouble was, Takado wouldn’t learn this if he didn’t read Hanara’s mind. The one piece of information that would deter Takado from coming to get Hanara was the one piece of information that he could only learn from Hanara.
That’s not entirely true. He could learn it from other villagers, if he had reason to talk to them or read their minds.
But Takado would never deign to talk to commoners, and reading the minds of anyone here would be seen as an act of aggression. He’d only do it if he had decided to attack the village, at which point he would act swiftly and wouldn’t waste time with mind-reading.
Hanara sighed and resisted the urge to sit up and look through the loft window to check if the signal was still blinking in the distance.
Hasn’t anyone else noticed? He hadn’t heard the men in the stables or people in the village say anything about it. If they had seen it, surely someone would have investigated. They would not find Takado unless he wanted them to. If they found nothing, would they still send a warning to this other magician who was supposed to protect Mandryn? Where is this other magician, anyway? The signal was coming from the ridges and hills surrounding the village. From what Hanara had learned during Takado’s travels, villages in the outer leys were usually a day’s wagon ride from each other. The only other habitations were small farmers’ cottages and shacks.
He doubted this other magician lived in a cottage. So where did he live? And if Mandryn was attacked, how long would it take him to arrive?
There had to be some way he could find out. Moving to the edge of the loft, he looked down at the stables. A lamp had been set on a table where the servants had been playing a game using small pottery tokens and a board. The men were gone, their game unfinished.
He could hear faint voices somewhere behind the stables. “Hanar!”
He jumped and looked at the stable doors, where the stable master was standing.
“Come down,” Ravern ordered.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Hanara stood up, dusted straw off his clothing, and climbed down the ladder to the stable floor. He followed the stable master out. Ravern led him behind the building, to where three familiar figures were standing, the two stable boys and Keron, the servant master. Their attention was fixed on something beyond the stables.
His stomach sank as he realised they were looking at the signal. Keron turned towards him. It was too dark for Hanara to make out the man’s expression. An arm rose and a finger pointed towards the signal.
“What do you think, Hanar? Know what it is?”
The servant master’s tone was friendly, but there was a hint of worry in it.
Hanara turned to regard the signal.
Report. Report.
If he told them what it was, they would send for the other magician. But if they had seen the signal on other nights, they might wonder why he hadn’t told them earlier. They might grow angry, and throw him out of the village.
They were already worried. They might send for the magician anyway, if prompted.
“I don’t know,” he told them. “Is it not normal?”
Silence followed, then Keron sighed. “No. Not normal.” To the others he said: “Someone should take a look.”
A longer silence. Hanara could make out enough to see the two youths exchanging looks. The stable master sighed again. “In the morning, then.”
Fools, Hanara thought. Cowards, too. They’re too scared to do anything. They’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist and hope it goes away.
Just as he had.
They weren’t going to seek the other magician unless they were sure they needed to. Trouble was, once they knew Takado was here and a threat there’d be little time to seek the other magician’s help. Was there a way he could convince them to call for help sooner? Perhaps there was.
“Is there danger?” he asked the stable master in a low voice. “I don’t know,” the man admitted. “You said another magician would come and protect us. Would he know if this is something bad?”
The man stared back at him, then nodded once. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Go get some sleep.”
As he walked away he caught snatches of conversation. A protest came from one of the younger workers. Climbing back up to the loft, Hanara listened carefully. Sure enough, when the men returned a horse was brought out and readied.
“It’s dark so take it slowly, but the moon will be up soon and then you can step up the pace,” the stable master advised. “Deliver the message and come straight back. Lord Narvelan will give you a fresh mount. I expect you back tomorrow night.”
Hanara’s heart froze. Tomorrow night? The other magician must live a full day’s ride away!
Takado was much closer than that. Much, much closer.
As the sound of galloping hoofs faded into the distance, Hanara rolled onto his back, his heart racing. This changes everything! Did Takado know that the only other magician nearby lived a full day’s ride away? He probably does, Hanara thought; he paid attention to those sorts of details while he was travelling here. He probably took note of where all the Kyralian magicians live.
So the only thing that was keeping him from entering Mandryn and killing or reclaiming Hanara was the belief that Lord Dakon was here.
He was going to work out that this wasn’t true eventually. Hanara could hope he didn’t before the other magician arrived, or Lord Dakon returned. Or he could leave and go to Takado. Takado might not kill Hanara, if he came willingly.
Yet Hanara could not make himself move. He could not yet abandon the hope that by waiting a little bit longer he might not have to confront Takado. After all, there was still a chance that Takado would kill him anyway, for disobeying his signal for so long. He lay still, waiting, as time crept by with excruciating slowness.
Then a sound below caught his attention. He rolled over and looked down. Ravern was standing with arms crossed, the other young stable servant emerging from an empty stall. They were both staring at a sweat-stained horse pacing the length of the building. The same horse that had left with the messenger had returned, riderless.
Terror rushed through Hanara, leaving him gasping. He’s here. Takado is here. And now he knows everything! He barely heard the stable master ordering two more horses to be saddled, cursing and mumbling that the messenger had probably just fallen off the horse. He couldn’t bring himself to watch the men prepare themselves with futile weapons, and leave.
But once they were gone, he climbed, shaking, down the ladder and slipped out into the night. He told himself he was leaving to save the village, but he knew with a familiar certainty that he was leaving to save himself.
It had surprised and impressed Tessia to learn that Everran and Avaria owned two wagons, one for their own everyday use and one kept for visits to the Royal Palace. Since the journey to the palace consisted of half the length of two streets, it seemed frivolous to own a vehicle especially for it.
But she had to admit the palace wagon was spectacular, and using it for ordinary journeys, bumping up against people and other vehicles, would mean constant repairs. Made of highly polished wood and gold fittings, with a cover of fine leather impressed and painted with the family’s incal – a revived heraldic fashion from before the Sachakan invasion – it declared to all around it that the occupants were rich and important. The four guards in uniform carrying whips also made it clear that such a wagon should not be delayed.
Inside the wagon a tiny globe light kept the chill of the night air at bay as well as providing illumination. Everran and Avaria sat opposite Dakon, Jayan and Tessia. All wore fine clothes in the latest fashion. Everran was in a long over-robe, the same style of clothing that Jayan and Dakon had worn when Tessia and her family had come to dinner at the Residence, made of the red cloth Avaria had bought in Vanity Street. Avaria wore a purple dress cinched in closely at the waist, with a narrow opening below the buttoned collar that would have been scandalously low if the glimpses it offered beneath had been of bare flesh, not a layer of red cloth. The skirt also had been “slashed” down each side, revealing more of the red cloth underskirt.
Tessia was as tightly clad in a dress of the green cloth bought by her hostess a few days before. To her relief, it was plain at the front, and while it did have slashes in the skirt, and along the sleeves, the cloth beneath was a demure black.
Dakon and Jayan wore over-robes, too, in black and dark blue. Back in the village the fashion had seemed extravagant and a little silly, but now it looked dignified and appropriate. It suited them both, she decided, then wondered if that meant they suited the city life better than life in Mandryn.
Perhaps Jayan, she thought. But maybe not Dakon. Her master did not look particularly relaxed. Black clothes and a frown combined to give an impression of distracted moodiness. In city clothes, Jayan looked calmly confident and she could even see a hint of why Avaria and her friends thought him handsome.
Sensing her gaze, he turned to look at her.
Just because I can admit he’s good-looking doesn’t mean he’s not also annoying and arrogant, she reminded herself, meeting his gaze coolly, then looking away.
The wagon slowed to a stop and the flap was opened by one of the guards.
“Lord Everran and Lady Avaria of family Korin,” he called out. Rising from his seat, Everran climbed out of the wagon and Avaria followed, holding the skirt of her dress carefully to prevent it from catching on anything or rising above her ankles as she stepped outside. As his name was announced, Dakon rose, followed by Jayan. Last to leave, Tessia climbed out carefully. Unused to the dress, she took Dakon’s offered hand gratefully and managed to reach the ground without baring too much of her ankles – or so she hoped. Apparently showing the bare skin of any part of your feet or legs was uncouth and common.
Looking up at Avaria, she felt relief as she saw the woman nod approvingly. Then Tessia turned to regard the Royal Palace and caught her breath.
She had seen glimpses of it before, but never an unbroken view or from this close. In front of them was an enormous gate, held suspended by huge chains above the men and women strolling into the palace. On either side of the gate were two tall towers, lamps burning in their narrow windows and between the crenellations of their roofline – and along the walls stretching on either side.
Everran and Avaria led the way beneath the suspended gate onto a bridge spanning a gap between the outer wall and an inner one, the space between filled with water that reflected the lights all around. The inner wall was breached by another entrance, this time graced by a pair of heavy iron doors standing open in grand but sober welcome. Tessia noted the markings on the doors, depicting King Errik’s family name and incal.
Once through, they entered the palace greeting hall, which mirrored the one in Dakon’s Residence, but on a bigger, grander scale. Servants were meeting each visitor and directing them through an archway between the stairways on either side. Tessia saw that these stairways had been blocked by free-standing paper screens and beside each stood two guards.
At the archway Everran repeated the names of the group to the servant who greeted them, then waved them through. As she moved into the room beyond Tessia felt her heart skip a beat.
She had never seen a room this large. It could have contained the whole Residence, she suspected. Maybe two Residences. Slim stone columns in two rows helped to support the cavernous ceiling. Instead of lamps, floating globes of magical light illuminated the room.
Enormous paintings and hangings covered the walls, but it was the people who caught Tessia’s attention. Hundreds of men, women and even some children milled about, in couples, families, small groups, and larger circles. All wore fashionable, expensive and, in some cases, extravagant clothing. Jewels glittered under the globe lights. As she followed the others into the room more people came into sight, while others were obscured. It’s like a landscape of people. As you move about your viewpoint changes, constantly offering a different vista containing something you haven’t seen before.
Even as she thought this, the view changed again and a well-dressed man of Jayan’s age, surrounded by a half-circle of men, appeared. Her companions stopped and she realised they were all looking at the group.
“That is King Errik,” Jayan murmured, leaning close.
She nodded. As she watched, the young man looked up in their direction, his eyes skimming across their faces, then turned his attention back to the men beside him.
“Well, he’s seen us,” Everran said, then turned to Dakon. “If he wants to talk to us he’ll summon us. In the meantime, you and I should talk to Lord Olleran.”
Dakon nodded. As he and Everran began to move away, Jayan following, Avaria hooked her arm in Tessia’s.
“Let them talk politics and trade on their own,” she whispered into Tessia’s ear. “I’ve just spotted Kendaria. Come on. This way.”
Tessia swallowed her frustration and disappointment. While she was eager to talk to Kendaria again, once again she would be excluded from whatever business Dakon was undertaking. Surely it was part of what being a magician entailed, and therefore something she needed to know, no matter how boring. Besides, what Avaria found boring Tessia might find interesting. Or vice versa.
Kendaria was watching a male acrobat performing graceful and impressive contortions. The young man was wearing loose trousers gathered tightly round ankles and waist, but his chest was bare and rippled with muscles. His performance was drawing a lot of female attention, Tessia noticed. Kendaria winked at her.
“Wouldn’t mind dissecting that body,” she murmured. “I wonder if his joints would be any different from the usual cadaver’s? They’re so flexible.”
“Kendaria!” Avaria scolded. “Don’t be so grotesque!”
But Tessia couldn’t help looking at the acrobat in a different way, seeing the ribs pressing against the man’s skin and remembering what the inside of a chest cavity looked like – where the heart was positioned, and the spongy masses of the lungs. She had learned so much, and was hoping Kendaria would take her to more dissections before Dakon left Imardin.
But Avaria was determined to head off any further anatomical conversation and soon the gossiping began in earnest as they were joined by Darya and Zakia. Time passed slowly. While Tessia listened politely, she watched the huge room filling with people and noted how the sound of voices grew exponentially as people needed to speak louder to be heard above the din. The acrobat left and a woman nearby began to sing, accompanied by a man plucking the strings of a strange box-like instrument he rested on one knee. Avaria’s friends began a detailed assessment of other women’s clothing, jewellery and romantic entanglements. Tessia found herself listening to the conversation of some men standing nearby.
“– healer told him to stop, but he keeps on drinking and it’s only going to make him –”
“– Sarrin said we should raise our prices, but I’m afraid it will –”
“– Mandryn, I think, but –”
The name of her village caught her attention, but the following comment was lost behind her companions’ laughter. She edged to the right, closer to the speaker and his listeners.
“. . . sorry for... leys on the border. Wouldn’t want to be living there myself.”
The reply was inaudible. “Oh, of course. Someone has to. Otherwise those bloodthirsty Sachakans would be even closer to us, wouldn’t they? Still, maybe they will be soon if what we’ve been hearing proves—”
Suddenly the man’s voice quietened so that she could not hear it. Then Tessia noticed that the crowd around them was stirring. Heads had turned in one direction. Searching for the source of the distraction, she peered round Avaria’s shoulder.
The king was walking towards them. He paused to speak to someone, then smiled and moved on, his gaze on Avaria and the other women.
Tessia leaned close to her hostess’s ear. “Lady Avaria,” she murmured. “Look to your left.”
The woman glanced idly in that direction, then turned back to Tessia. “The king?”
“Yes. He’s coming this way.”
“He was bound to eventually,” Avaria said, shrugging. “What with an attractive young new apprentice waiting to meet him.”
Tessia’s heart lurched. “I’m not . . .” she began, then stopped. The king was close enough now to hear her. He wouldn’t be here just because of me, she told herself. Avaria is teasing me.
He moved into the circle of women, smiling and speaking their names. For each he had a question, often an enquiry as to the health or trade of a relative. When he reached Tessia his smile widened and he moved across the circle to stand before her.
“And you must be Apprentice Tessia, Lord Dakon’s new student.”
“Yes, your majesty,” she replied, conscious that the other women had turned away and were moving off in pairs and trios. Even Avaria. Had the king made some signal that he wanted to talk to her privately?
He watched her with alert eyes. I hope I don’t say anything wrong or do something against protocol. “You are a natural, is that right?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“It must seem a little frightening, perhaps bad luck, to discover your gift at the time and place you did.”
Tessia frowned. Was he referring to her desire to become a healer? Surely he hadn’t heard about Takado . . . no, Dakon wouldn’t tell him that.
“No,” she said slowly. “Well, it was frightening at the time. I didn’t know what I’d done. But later it was . . . exciting, I have to admit.”
He paused, a line appearing between his brows then disappearing as he smiled again. “You are referring to using your power for the first time, not to living close to the border?”
“Yes... but I suppose living close to the border has always been a little... worrying. Unless . . .” Her heart skipped. “Is there a special reason we should be concerned just now, your majesty?”
He blinked, then an expression of realisation crossed his face. “Ah. I must apologise. I did not mean to suggest such a thing. To those of us who live in the city the idea of living on the border with Sachaka always seems frightening, but you must be used to it.”
His tone was soothing and she suddenly knew, with certainty, that he was hiding something.
“Is Sachaka likely to invade?” she asked bluntly, and immediately regretted it. He looked utterly taken aback. She began to apologise.
“Don’t,” he said, cutting her off. “It is I who should apologise to you. I should have been more careful not to alarm you.” He moved to her side and took her arm, leading her slowly across the room. “There have been rumours,” he told her quietly. “Of a possible threat. No doubt you will hear of them whether I tell you or not – it is hardly a secret here. But do not fear. No great armies await over the border. The concern is that a few disgruntled Sachakan magicians might decide to make trouble for the emperor.”
“Oh,” she said, turning to stare at him. Even a few Sachakan magicians could do great damage in a village like Mandryn – especially with Dakon absent. “Is my village safe? My family?”
He met her gaze, his own glance wary and searching. Then his expression softened into a smile.
“It is safe. I assure you.”
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing her heart to stop racing.
“That is a relief, your majesty,” she said.
He chuckled. “Yes. It is. I’m sorry to have alarmed you with all this rumour-mongering. I’m afraid those of us who spend too much time in the city tend to gossip far too much without thought for the consequences, and that even I am guilty of the habit from time to time.”
She smiled at his admission. “Lady Avaria did warn me not to take city gossip too seriously – but gossip and rumour may be quite different things.”
He laughed, then turned to face her. “Indeed they are. Now, I have a message for you to pass on to Lord Dakon.” His expression became serious. “Tell him to meet me tomorrow at the training ground, an hour after midday.”
She nodded. “Training ground. Hour after midday,” she repeated.
He bowed, and she belatedly replied with the womanly dip that Avaria had taught her, hand modestly pressed to her chest. “Charming to meet you, Apprentice Tessia. I hope it will not be long before you visit Imardin again.”
“I’m honoured and pleased to meet you, your majesty,” she replied.
He smiled, then turned away. As he moved across the room a uniformed man strode forward to meet him.
“How did it go?” a familiar and breathless voice spoke at her elbow.
Tessia turned to look at Avaria. “Well. I think. Maybe. I have a message for Lord Dakon.”
The woman nodded and smiled. “Then we’d better deliver it – discreetly, if we can.”
The Royal Palace was quiet, yet Dakon detected hints of activity all around. He caught the faint sounds of footsteps from time to time, or the hushed murmur of voices. Servants flitted into view and then out again.
The further his guide led him through the building, the more obvious the signs of activity became. He heard the sound of chopping and caught delicious aromas, and guessed he was near the kitchen. Then the neigh of a horse told him the stables were to his right. And finally the clang of metal against metal, and barked calls, warned him that he was nearing the training ground.
The guide brought Dakon out of a cobbled road between two buildings into a wide, gravel-covered area. Two men stood several paces from each other. Dakon recognised both instantly: Magician Sabin and King Errik. Around them, at a safe distance of several paces, stood a handful of men, watching the combatants.
Two were uniformed guards, whose role appeared to be to hold weapons. Two were servants, one carrying a bowl and towels, the other balancing a tray bearing a jug and several goblets. The other two men he recognised from the previous night as friends of the king, both from powerful families.
The guide indicated that Dakon should stand next to the latter, then left. Dakon exchanged polite nods with the men, but when they turned back to the king without speaking he took the hint and remained silent.
First the king, then Sabin, uttered a hoarse word which Dakon couldn’t make out, then began to advance on each other. Both were already sweaty, but neither was out of breath or tired. Watching them, Dakon thought back to the gathering the night before.
It has to have been, aside from a few failed attempts at courting, one of the most frustrating nights of my life, he mused. The king had ignored them, and once even appeared to go out of his way to avoid them. This had been taken by some of the Circle’s detractors as an indication that Dakon and his host were out of favour. They had closed in like scavengers, their mockery carefully phrased in the politest of language. Everran appeared to enjoy the challenge, replying with equal slyness and wit. Dakon, knowing this was a game he couldn’t possibly win, stayed silent, took note of who their opponents appeared to be, and tried to guess if they were in earnest or playing along for the sake of politics.
It was the ringleader, Lord Hakkin, who had intrigued Dakon the most. Though the man’s comments were by far the sharpest, he hadn’t delivered them with the conviction the others had. Yet at times he had almost sneered at his supporters’ jibes, repeating and embellishing them if they failed to be witty or cutting enough.
By the time Dakon and the others climbed into the wagon to return to Everran’s home, he had been exhausted, despondent and angry.
When Avaria had suggested to Tessia that it was now safe to deliver the king’s message, Dakon had barely heard. Poor Tessia had had to repeat it twice before he took it in.
The training ground. An hour past midday. King Errik did want to meet him. Just not with several hundred witnesses. And that is something Jayan must be glad of, he thought. The apprentice had been uncharacteristically silent and nervous throughout the gathering. Eventually – perhaps too slowly – Dakon had worked out why. Among the detractors had been a man Dakon hadn’t seen in years – Jayan’s father, Karvelan of family Drayn.
Jayan had said nothing about his visit to his father and Dakon had assumed that was simply because nothing of interest had been discussed. Now he could see the conflict the young man faced. He was caught between loyalty to his master and his powerful and wealthy family. Dakon knew how little Jayan thought of his family, and he was fairly sure he had his apprentice’s respect and even affection, but these things did not always matter in the face of money and politics.
I bet old Karvelan wishes I’d hurry up and release his son. Then Dakon frowned. I wonder if Jayan wishes I would. It would free him to choose where his loyalties lie. But then, perhaps he’d rather have an excuse not to make that choice just now.
A grunt of dismay brought his attention back to the fighters. Sabin and Errik were backing away from each other.
“You win, again,” the king conceded with cheerful annoyance. Sabin bowed. Chuckling, the king handed his sword to one of the guards, then filled the goblet with clear water from the jug and downed it in one go. Then he took a towel and walked towards Dakon, wiping his brow as he came.
“Lord Dakon of family Aylendin. What did you think?”
“Of the fight, your majesty?” Dakon found himself searching for the appropriate response. He knew nothing about swordplay. “It was energetic.”
“Would you like a bout?” Errik offered. “Me?” Dakon blinked in surprise. “I, ah, I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a good combatant.”
“A bit rusty, eh?”
“No. I’ve, er, never picked up a sword in my life,” Dakon admitted. The king’s eyebrows rose. “Never? What would you do, in a real war, if your magic ever ran out?”
Dakon paused to consider it, then decided he’d rather not. “Cheat?”
Errik laughed. “That’s not very honourable!”
Dakon shrugged. “I’ve heard it said that real war isn’t particularly honourable.”
“No.” The king’s smile faded. He turned and waved at the others. All bowed, then walked away. The guards took away the weapons, followed by Sabin. The courtiers vanished through a doorway but the servants took up positions by another door, still holding their burdens, but out of earshot. Within moments Dakon was virtually alone with the king.
“So, Lord Dakon,” Errik said. “You want to know what I will do if the wayward, rebellious Sachakan magicians who are causing our neighbouring emperor so much irritation decide to begin their own little invasion of Kyralia.”
Dakon met the king’s eyes and nodded. Sabin had warned him that the king preferred to be direct. Errik smiled crookedly, then sobered.
“So does everyone else. I tell them exactly what I tell you now: an attack on or invasion of any ley is an attack on or invasion of Kyralia. It is not to be tolerated.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Dakon said. “I’m getting the impression, however, that others would not be.”
The king’s gaze flashed. “The trouble with Kyralians gathering together to support one cause is that other Kyralians then feel they must then gather together to oppose it. Not that I’m saying your Circle should not have formed.” He shrugged, though his expression remained serious. “Just that the consequences were unavoidable.”
“Would they still oppose each other if a greater enemy appeared?” Dakon asked.
“If they become too strongly opposed. There are plenty of examples of this happening in our history.”
“So you can’t appear to support either side, or they may not join forces when needed.” Dakon nodded as he saw the king’s dilemma.
The king’s gaze warmed with approval. “I am making sure I can defend my kingdom when and if the need arises.”
Dakon resisted a smile. “Are your plans too great a secret to be shared with a humble country magician?”
“Humble?” Errik rolled his eyes, then sighed and looked at Dakon levelly. “Not too secret. I will discuss some of them with you, and you must tell me if you see any flaws.”
“I will do my best, your majesty.”
“Good. Now, any Sachakans planning an attack will want to be sure they have the numbers to win. They don’t form alliances easily, however. Their numbers are likely to be small at first, so their target is likely to be too. Unfortunately we have plenty of small targets – the villages in border leys protected by one or two magicians, too far apart to be of any use to each other.
“Evacuation is the only option in these leys,” he continued. “Once a ley falls it must be regained immediately. The Sachakans will be relying on news of their success to bring them more allies. We must counter this with news of their failure, as quickly as possible.”
Dakon nodded, pleased at the king’s assessment. “How would I do this?” Errik asked. “Speed will be important, so those magicians closest to the invaded ley will be ordered to respond. But at the same time I will send city magicians out, in case the first response is not sufficient.”
Errik stopped and looked at Dakon, eyebrows raised. “Questions?”
“You would not post magicians out at the borders now?” Dakon asked. “To deter the Sachakans from attacking to begin with and prevent the outer leys being taken at all?”
“Magicians,” the king said, his voice heavy with irony, “do not like being told what to do. If you can persuade some of your city supporters to return with you, by all means do so. But don’t be surprised if they are too concerned with keeping an eye on their adversaries here to leave. It would cause me more trouble later if I order any to go, no attack comes to justify it, and they suffer some setback.”
Dakon could not help frowning. The king nodded. “Petty, I know. Rest assured, once an attack comes no magician will dare protest against defending their country. However,” his eyes narrowed, “your new apprentice managed to extract a promise from me last night that I feel I must keep.”
“Tessia?” Dakon frowned in dismay. “She demanded a promise?” Errik chuckled. “No. I’m afraid it was my fault. I thought to test her and instead made a fool of myself.”
Dakon’s alarm grew. What did she say? He tried to read Errik’s expression. Well, the king doesn’t look too annoyed. Perhaps annoyed at himself, he corrected.
“I spoke of the threat, which she clearly knew nothing of,” Errik explained. “And ended up promising her that her village was safe.”
“Oh. I apologise for that,” Dakon said. “I have tried to keep her from learning of the Sachakan threat, so that worry would not spoil her first visit to Imardin.”
Errik smiled crookedly. “That was considerate of you. I’m afraid I now feel obliged to keep my promise, so I am sending one of my most loyal magician friends home with you.” He turned and waved at the building the courtiers had disappeared into. One of the men stepped out and started walking towards them.
“This is Lord Werrin. He will live with you for now, officially there to assess Kyralia’s defences but also conveniently rumoured to be keeping the country magicians in their place. It will meet everyone’s requirements of me, I hope.”
The man was short but lean, his hair flecked with grey, but his face as smooth as the king’s so it was impossible to judge his age. He returned Dakon’s gaze steadily as he stopped beside Errik, his eyes dark and intelligent but his face devoid of expression.
“I look forward to being your host, Lord Werrin,” Dakon said. The man smiled. “And I shall enjoy exploring the country leys in spring, Lord Dakon.”
Dakon felt a moment of panic and worry. Did the king think he needed to keep an eye on Dakon and his neighbours? He pushed the feeling aside. He had nothing to hide. And having an extra magician in Mandryn would go a long way towards helping protect the village and ley, should it be attacked.
Then he felt sympathy for Werrin. The man would have little to do but travel the rounds of border leys, over rough roads, with none of the comforts and entertainments of the city. I must find out his taste in books, and stock up, Dakon thought. And see what sort of—
– WE HAVE BEEN ATTACKED! MANDRYN HAS BEEN ATTACKED!
For a moment, Dakon, Werrin and the king blinked at each other in surprise. Then Werrin placed a hand on the king’s shoulder as if to steady him and did not remove it. It was a notably personal gesture, indicating how close they were.
“That was Lord Narvelan,” Werrin said. He looked at Dakon. “Am I correct?”
Dakon nodded. His stomach had sunk at the voice and its news. Mandryn. His home. Attacked. His head spun as the truth sank in.
– Attacked by whom? the king asked. – Sachakans, Narvelan replied. One of the villagers recognised the magician who passed through here a while back.
“Takado,” Dakon hissed, horror turning to anger. – How many survivors? he asked. – Not many. We are still count— – Cease communication, the king ordered firmly. He looked at Dakon. “There are good reasons why speaking with the mind is forbidden by law. Do you want more Sachakans knowing how successful your former guest’s attack was?”
Dakon shook his head. Errik glanced at Lord Werrin, who let his hand fall from the king’s shoulder. “I doubt Narvelan intended to give away that he is there now, most likely alone and vulnerable.” He grimaced and looked at Dakon. “I expect you want to return as quickly as possible – will probably leave tonight?”
Dakon nodded. “Lord Werrin will go with you. He’ll join you at Lord Everran’s home in an hour.” Errik looked at his friend, who nodded, then turned back to Dakon. “I will gather more magicians to follow as soon after as I can arrange. Go – and be careful. And... please convey my apology to Apprentice Tessia and my hope that her family is among those who survived.”
There was genuine concern in the young ruler’s face and voice. Dakon bowed.
“I will. Thank you, your majesty,” he said.
Then he hurried away, unable to stop the images of death and destruction his imagination was conjuring up. How many had died? Who? He would not find out until he returned home. And home was at least three or four days’ ride away, if he changed horses and rode through the night, and the road hadn’t worsened . . .
Then he remembered Narvelan’s last communication. The king had said Narvelan was in Mandryn. We are still count—. The last word had been “counting’, surely. Counting the dead. Dakon shuddered.
But it also meant Takado – if the villager who recognised the attacker was correct – had left after his attack. That was unexpected.
The Circle had always assumed Sachakans wouldn’t attack unless they intended to possess a village or ley.
It was strange, and he would have plenty of time to ponder it on the ride home, but he would not find any answers until he got there.
“What is it, Tessia?”
Tessia started and looked at the faces of the women, all staring at her. She hesitated, worried that if she told them what had happened they would think her mad.
But the content of the message she’d heard was too shocking. She had to say something.
“I...I just heard someone talking,” she said. “In my head.” Kendaria’s eyebrows rose. “That’s not good. Mental communication is forbidden by law. Magicians can only do it if the king approves or orders it. Did you recognise who it was?”
“It was . . .” Tessia frowned. “He didn’t say, but it sounded like Lord Narvelan. And Lord Dakon replied. And another man... the king? It sounded like his voice.” She shook her head. “Narvelan said Mandryn had been attacked by Takado – the Sachakan who visited us a few months ago.” She looked at the women. They exchanged horrified looks. They clearly believed her. “Are you saying this is real?”
“Yes.” Kendaria looked at Avaria. “Is this the beginning?”
Avaria shrugged. “I wouldn’t dare guess.” She was frowning at Tessia in concern. “Lord Dakon wouldn’t have taught you about mind-speaking, I’m guessing, because it’s not something you’re supposed to do. But if Lord Narvelan used it, the need must have been urgent. We had better go home.”
The others murmured sympathetic farewells and Kendaria, their hostess today, offered the use of her wagon so they would not have to send for Avaria’s. Feeling dazed, Tessia followed Avaria out of the house and into the vehicle.
“So Mandryn has been attacked?” she asked as the wagon began moving.
Avaria looked grave. “Yes.”
How many survivors? Dakon had asked. Not many, Narvelan had answered. She felt a rush of cold and fear. Mother? Father? Are they alive?
Takado’s leering face flashed into her memory and she shuddered. He came back. Did he come back to punish her for humiliating him by repelling him with magic? Then she remembered Hanara. Did he come back to reclaim his property?
“Tessia, there is something I should tell you.”
She looked up at Avaria. Dread filled her. Did the woman know something? Did she know that Tessia’s parents were dead? How could she?
She might. All of this felt so unreal, it seemed anything was possible.
“Lord Dakon didn’t come to Imardin just to sort out some trade matters and see some friends,” Avaria told her. “He is part of a group of magicians known as the Circle of Friends, made up of country magicians and the city magicians who support them. We’re all concerned that Kyralia may soon be invaded by Sachakan magicians. He came here to gain assurance from the king that if any of the outer leys were taken, the city magicians would help to regain them.”
Tessia nodded to indicate she understood. She found she was not surprised. It explained the king’s conversation with her the previous night. And why she hadn’t been included in the gatherings Dakon and Jayan had attended. Dakon would have wanted as few people to know about the threat as possible. He wouldn’t have wanted her worrying helplessly about the safety of Mandryn and her parents while she was in Imardin.
My parents. Perhaps I should have been worried. Perhaps I shouldn’t have left...
Was her father treating injured villagers right now? Or was he one of the injured...or dead. No. She could see him, determined and exhausted, working away. She held on to that image. It was true until it had to be otherwise.
“None of us thought an attack would come this soon,” Avaria said, staring out of the wagon through the cover flap. Then she cursed. “The king must be wondering if we set it up.”
Tessia said nothing. Every word Avaria uttered solidified this new reality. Made sense of it. Tessia did not want it to be real. She wanted to go back to Kendaria’s house, back to her seat, and start time again from that moment.
But I can’t.
Suddenly she didn’t care if she never saw Kendaria or Avaria or any of the women who had befriended and welcomed her again. She didn’t care if she never saw another dissection. She just wanted to go home. To rush back to Mandryn and learn the truth, whether it was good or terrible.
And Dakon will want to as well, she realised. We’ll probably leave tonight. It’ll be a fast, exhausting journey. Probably on horseback rather than by wagon.
By the time the wagon stopped it was all she could do to stop leaping past Avaria and rushing inside the house to find Dakon. Gritting her teeth, she climbed out decorously. Once inside Avaria strode directly to the master’s room. Dakon, Jayan and Everran were there, talking.
“– volunteers,” Everran was saying. “They’ll be no more than a day behind you.”
They looked up as Avaria and Tessia arrived. Dakon opened his mouth.
“Don’t worry, Dakon,” Avaria said. “I’ve told Tessia your real reason for visiting Imardin. I expect you’ll all be leaving as soon as possible.”
“Yes.” Dakon looked at Tessia, his expression full of concern and apology. “I am sorry, Tessia. I don’t know if your parents are alive or not. I hope so.”
She nodded, suddenly unable to speak. “Jayan and I are leaving as soon as Lord Werrin, the magician the king has sent to accompany us, arrives. You will stay here.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“It will be a rough journey, Tessia. We have the use of the king’s messenger horses, so we will be riding from dawn each day until it is too dark to ride. When we get there we don’t know if we’ll find Takado and his allies waiting for us or not. It will be dangerous, especially for a new apprentice.”
“I’m no soft city woman,” she told him. “I can ride, for long hours if needed. And you taught me that apprentices, new or not, are not supposed to stray from their master’s side during times of conflict. You should have the extra strength of a second apprentice to call on.”
Dakon paused, then frowned and began to speak, but Avaria cut him off.
“Take the girl, you fool. She has healing knowledge. We can only hope it won’t be needed.”
Tessia winced. If it was needed then her father... no, she must not think about that. She must not lose hope.
Dakon stared at Avaria, then looked at Everran and Jayan. Both men nodded. He sighed and his shoulders slumped.
“Very well then. You have many tough days ahead, Tessia. If you find you are unable to bear them, say so and I’ll arrange... something.”
“Not as tough as what the people of Mandryn just went through,” she replied quietly.
As he met her gaze, she saw the same worry she felt, and suddenly her heart filled with love for this man. He truly cared about his people, and she had come to appreciate how rare that was.
She only hoped those people were still alive to be cared for.
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