Wild Magic

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I am tired, she says. She smiles ruefully. The verse is worse. Bad is one thing, but this is really stretching. She sighs, the flush of humor draining away. The life is going out of the Land.

My students are too busy for me these days. I miss them.

Juvalgrim fights the Shinda Prefecture and the Temple, together and separately; I fear that the forces assembling against him are building too strongly. He can’t last much longer.

Honeychild? She has a new guide. I am not allowed to interfere.

Diyo, I do miss them.

And I am afraid for them.

There’s a fire in Juvaigrim’s future; I can see him tied to a pole with the Prophet waving a torch in his face.

And Faan-the god will use her up and discard’her like a dirty rag, even her memories gone. As she already has discarded the Salagaum.

The Sibyl brings her fist down on the chair arm.

I can do nothing. I am tied to this place. I can do nothing but watch.

Her head falls forward, her hands drop in her lap.

A moment later, though, she looks up, a gleam in her black-opal eyes.

Mmmh, maybe a little more than watch…

When the cats are fighting, the mice run loose. We’ll see, we’ll see.

Chapter 14. Penhari Banadah Is Shaped For Service

The Amrapake used his toe to stir Penhari’s unconscious body, pulling a groan out of her,.a twitch of her fingers, but nothing more. He smiled sourly, dropped the bloody flagellum on her back. “Should’ve done that years ago.” He looked at his hands, rubbed them together. “Wenyarum! Towel. Why do I have to ask?”

Wenyarum Taleza’s oiled skin had an ashy look and his eyes were uneasy. “Vema vema, Amrap. Forgive me. A moment.” He hastened out, wiping at the sweat that popped on his brow as he stepped over the severed head of his wife’s personal Kassian. He’d seen too much. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the memory of Famtoche kicking the door open and slashing with his saber at the maids who were trying to protect Penhari, then ordering Wenyarum to throw the

– bodies in a pile. He could only hope his usefulness still outweighed any flash of prudence that might strike his unpredictable brother-by-law.

He seldom came into his wife’s suite, so it took him a while to find the water room, long enough to wet him down with nervous sweat. Hastily he soaked a hand towel, squeezed it out, and went rushing back.

When he reached the sitting room, Famtoche was standing over his sister, pissing on her. Face twisted in a grimace of fear, Wenyarum drew back and stood swaying and holding his breath until the sound stopped; then he went hurrying in, the towel folded on his hands.

“Hah!” Famtoche strolled from the room, cleaning his hands, dabbing at the spots of blood on his tunic. He looked over his shoulder at Wenyarum following two steps behind. “Clean your own House, he says to me. Me! Jegging Kasso. True, though. Too long I let family feeling sway me. Well, it’s done.” He paused before the door into the public rooms. “One more thing, General. I’ve let the boy please himself. He’s got spirit. Didn’t want it broken. That’s over.” He tossed the towel on the floor. “You go down to Pili and bring him back. Don’t care how you do it, get him here. We’ll soon have that Prophet nonsense knocked out of him.” He stepped aside and scowled at Wenyarum Taleza who hurried past him and opened the door for him. “nn days,” he said. “Want him at the Falmatarr no lateen that.” He walked briskly into the entrance hall, his escort coming to practiced alert the instant the moment they saw him.