The Magician’s Apprentice Page 38

  “Part of the ceremony. Though all the details will have been worked out before now, they’ll do a bit of mock bartering. Your husband-to-be will pretend to have doubts, pretend that your price isn’t low enough. Your father will list your virtues and threaten to take you home.”

  “Ha!” Stara exclaimed. “I’d love to hear that!” She looked more closely at the walls. Scenes had been painted straight on the render. Depictions of men and women. As she realised what they were doing she laughed. “How scandalous! If anyone in Elyne – oh, my! I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before!”

  “It’s meant to make you ready for your wedding bed,” Vora told her.

  Stara looked at the woman, her amusement fading. “Seems a little, ah, advanced viewing for someone who is supposed to be a young virgin. More likely to frighten them than excite them.”

  Vora shrugged. “Men and women have all sorts of strange ideas about each other, and most of them are wrong.” Her gaze shifted to the door as the sound of footsteps sounded beyond it. “Quick! Put the head covering down and come over here,” she hissed.

  Plonking herself on the bench, she felt Vora tweak the gauze into place. The door opened.

  A lone man entered. He was too young to be her father.

  “Stara,” he said. She felt something in her mind spark. The voice was familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. “Welcome to my home.”

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  He moved forward until he stood in front of the bench, then took hold of the edge of the gauze and lifted. As the cloth tumbled down her back she stared at him in surprise.

  “Ashaki Kachiro!”

  “Yes,” he said, smiling. “Your neighbour.”

  But my father dislikes you, she wanted to say. He read my mind because we spoke. But Vora had said Kachiro was not an enemy of her father either, she remembered. She turned to look at Vora. The slave shrugged.

  “Ah, your slave. I have bought her, so that you will have a familiar face here as you begin your new life.”

  Stara turned back and found herself smiling at him in delight. “Thank you! Thank you, again.”

  He smiled back and held out his hand. “Come and join me.

  I have arranged a celebratory meal. I hope it is to your liking.”

  She reached out and let him take her hand. He led her out of the bride room back into the room of golden light. Looking around, she saw several floating globes of light hovering near the ceiling. Magic. I never saw Father bother with globe light. The room was furnished sparsely with elegant pieces, the floor covered in a dark blue rug. They moved to two chairs.

  In the next few hours Stara found herself treated to delicious food cooked in the styles of both Elyne and Sachaka, while talking to a man who not only seemed interested in her but was also interesting to her. He owned several plots of land from which he gained an income from crops and animals. He also maintained a few forests, and traded in the furniture made from the wood. His customers were mainly locals, but he wanted to see if he could expand his trade to Kyralia and Elyne. The war with Kyralia was making this impossible at the moment, however.

  She could not believe her luck. This is too good to be true. I can’t forget that, though I do find him attractive and he does seem nice, I didn’t agree to this. I wonder if he knows...

  Long after they had finished eating, the servants began to bring another, smaller meal, and she realised just how much time had passed. They ate sparingly, then Kachiro rose and indicated she should follow suit.

  “It is time I showed you to your – our – rooms,” he said. Taking her hand again, he led her through another door into a corridor. Looking back, Stara saw the globe lights blinking out, one by one. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’s a good-looking man. So long as he doesn’t have any nasty habits in the bedroom it shouldn’t be an unpleasant night. It might even be enjoyable. After all, I did fancy him the first time I met him... Hearing footsteps behind, she knew Vora was following. Relief was followed by a nagging worry. I hope she isn’t supposed to stay and watch!

  At the end of the corridor they entered a large white room. Like the main room, its few pieces of furniture were graceful and well made. Another blue rug covered the floor. Small, plain squares of cloth hung on the walls. She made herself ignore the bed and turn to him.

  “This furniture is all from your workers?”

  He nodded. “A friend of mine draws the shapes, and my slaves make it. He has a good eye.”

  “He has,” she replied. “It’s beautiful.”

  He was still holding her hand. She was too aware of it, and the warmth of his touch. I’ve hardly touched anyone since I got here. Everyone’s so touchy-touchy in Elyne, but Sachakans act as though touching is an affront...

  “I’m afraid I must leave you here,” Kachiro said. “I have urgent business in the city to attend to. I will return tomorrow, however. My slaves will attend to you, and your slave will be given a room of her own close by so she can respond quickly to your needs.”

  He’s leaving? Stara felt a stab of disappointment, then amusement. Was I looking forward to this after all? Did I give him the impression I was too nervous? All she managed was a slightly puzzled. “Ah. Yes. Look forward to it.”

  He let go of her hand, smiled again, then turned and left.

  She watched him walk down the corridor, then when he had turned out of sight she moved to the bed, sat on the edge of it, and looked at Vora.

  “So. My father’s neighbour. The one he’s supposed to dislike.”

  The slave shrugged. “It would not make sense for him to marry you to an enemy, mistress, and he would not offer a daughter with magic to an ally because it might be taken as an insult and endanger an agreement.”

  “So he chose someone he has no links to.”

  “Yes. And though he dislikes Kachiro, you did say you thought him decent.”

  Stara nodded. It almost made her father sound as if he wasn’t the monster she thought he was. No. He read my mind. That still makes him a monster.

  “Why do you think he left?”

  “Ashaki Kachiro?” Vora frowned. “He probably does have pressing business to attend to. I can’t imagine any man walking away from your bed willingly. A lesser man would have made it quick. Perhaps he doesn’t want to rush you.”

  “We spent the whole day eating and talking. Is that part of the tradition?”

  Vora smiled. “No. None of it was.”

  Stara sighed. “Ah, well, at least Father let me keep you.”

  At that, Vora’s brow creased into a frown. “Yes,” she said, but she did not sound happy.

  “Oh.” Stara grimaced and tried to smother a pang of hurt. “I’m sorry, Vora. I didn’t realise you wanted to stay behind.”

  The woman looked up at Stara and gave a wry smile. “I am delighted to remain your slave, mistress, but I am worried about Master Ikaro and Mistress Nachira. I can’t do anything to help them here.”

  Stara felt her heart skip a beat. “Are they still in danger?”

  Vora grimaced. “We can never be certain.”

  “Do you think Father worked out what you were doing? That he sold you to Kachiro so we were both out of the way?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Stara sighed again, then lay back on the bed. “Then I had better hurry up and have a baby.” Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered how long it would take. If Kachiro running off to take care of business would be a common occurrence. If she would grow to like the confined life of a wife and mother.

  “Come on then, mistress,” Vora said. “Stand up and I’ll help you get out of that gown.”

  The streets of Calia were abuzz with activity. Dakon strode down the main road looking for Tessia, who had gone in search of cures and their ingredients several hours ago. Seeing a shop selling herbs and spice, he turned and took a step towards it.

  And felt a stone slip through the hole in his shoe.

  He muttered a curse and kept walking
, but the movement rolled the stone under his heel and at the next step he felt it gouge into his sole. Shaking the stone to the front of his shoe, he walked back to the side of the road and into the shadow of a gap between two buildings.

  I should get these resoled, he told himself. But as he grasped the shoe to take it off he took in the frayed stitching, the tears and the worn-out soles. No, I’m going to have to get new ones.

  He had put off replacing his shoes for as long as possible, despite knowing it made him look shabby. The other magicians believed they had to look dignified and well groomed in order to persuade ordinary Kyralians to obey them. But Dakon did not like taking from the very people who were suffering most in this war.

  We turn up, tell them to pack up their belongings and leave, and then say, “By the way, you’ll have to do without your shoes and your best coat.”

  As the shoe slipped off he heard women’s voices in the house beside him, through an open window.

  “. . . same thing happened there. First the people come from the last village that was attacked, running away from the Sachakans. Then the magicians turn up and tell us to leave.”

  “I can’t see why we should leave until we have to. My ukkas will die if nobody waters and feeds them. What if the Sachakans never come here? It would have been a waste. A complete waste.”

  “I don’t know, Ti. The things I’ve heard about those Sachakans. It’s said they eat the babies of their slaves. Breed them for it. Fatten them up, then whack them in the oven alive.”

  Dakon froze in the middle of shaking out the stone.

  “Oh! That’s horrible!” the second woman exclaimed.

  “And since they can’t take babies to war with them, they’ve been eating Kyralian babies instead.”

  “No!”

  As Dakon shook his shoe again, the stone rolled out onto the ground. Where did those women hear that? he wondered as he put his shoe back on. Surely they don’t believe it. Nothing I’ve ever been told or read mentioned such habits.

  More likely it was a rumour started either in revenge or to ensure nobody considered turning traitor. Or perhaps to persuade those reluctant to leave their homes to comply with the order to leave.

  But what will the consequences be, when all this is over? Will people keep believing it? If we lose it will do nothing but make occupation and a return to slavery more terrifying. But if we win...it will be just another reason to hate the Sachakans. How far that hate takes us I can’t guess. It’s hard enough imagining us defeating the Sachakans, a far older and more sophisticated people and our former rulers, in the first place.

  He started across the road again only to find a long line of riders and carts blocking his way. Looking to the front of the line, he saw the backs of several well-dressed men. The people passing him were servants, he guessed, and the carts contained much-needed supplies.

  More magicians for our army, Dakon thought. I hope there are new shoes in those carts.

  “Oh, good,” a familiar voice said at his shoulder. “I hope they brought a healer or two, or at least some cures and clean bandages.”

  Dakon turned to Tessia. “There you are! Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “More or less. The town healer has upped his prices so much he ought to be jailed for it. I had to visit a crazy widow on the edge of town. She puts all sorts of ridiculous things in her cures that haven’t any provable benefit, so I bought ingredients instead.” She lifted a basket full of vegetation, both fresh and dried, under which he could see jars and wrapped objects. “I’ll be up all night mixing my own.”

  The smell of the plants was strong and not particularly pleasant. As the last of the servants and carts passed Dakon gestured for her to follow, and started after them.

  “Should we hire this healer?” he asked. Despite the Sachakans’ efforts to kill everyone they encountered, some people were managing to escape the towns they attacked. Many of these escapees had injuries and Tessia had spent every spare moment treating them.

  “No. Even if he wasn’t too old for it, he’ll charge you so much he’ll be the only rich man left by the end of the war, no matter who wins.”

  “We could order him,” Dakon told her.

  A gleam entered her eyes, then faded and she shook her head. But then she betrayed her doubts by biting her lip. “Well, we could do with all the hel—”

  “Lord Dakon, is that the tail end of what I think it is?”

  They both turned to see Lord Narvelan striding towards them.

  “Our army,” Dakon confirmed.

  “About time,” the young magician said. “How many do you reckon have joined us this time?”

  “About fifty.”

  “The king has done well, then. Let’s see who’s here.”

  Quickening their stride, they overtook carts and servants and gradually caught up with the magicians at the head of the column as it reached the house Werrin and Sabin had taken over as the magicians’ meeting place. The two leaders were already standing on the steps, waiting to greet the newcomers.

  The new arrivals stopped, dismounted and exchanged greetings with the king’s representative and the sword master. Three disappeared into the house with them.

  “And so the levels of power shift again,” Narvelan said. “Pushing us further down the hierarchy.”

  “You’ve done well up to now,” Dakon said. “Werrin still listens to you.”

  Narvelan nodded. “I think this time I may graciously step back into my proper place and stay there. Not because of anything anyone has said,” he added quickly. “But after listening to Sabin these last few weeks...he is far smarter and more qualified than I. A true warrior. Everything I’ve thought of and suggested seems trite and naive next to his grasp of strategy. And it is nice to see some responsibility move to others.”

  Dakon glanced at his friend, then looked away. Narvelan had changed since the confrontation in Tecurren. Though they’d won that fight, the magician had become hesitant and doubtful. He talked of the victory with a touch of regret. Dakon suspected he had realised, for the first time, that he might die in this war and he hadn’t worked out how to deal with the fear. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that he had killed another man. Narvelan had quietly admitted to Dakon that he could not help feeling uncomfortable about that victory, even after finding out what the Sachakans had done to the villagers.

  Perhaps it would be beneficial for Narvelan to take a rest from the pressure of decision-making.

  “I saw the wisdom of retiring to the sidelines a while back,” Dakon said. “After all, there’s plenty of other work requiring magicians. I’m concentrating on teaching apprentices instead. Want to join me?”

  Narvelan grimaced. “Avoiding having to teach is why I’ve resisted taking on an apprentice for so long. I’m too young. I don’t enjoy it. And I’m not good at it. Which is probably why I don’t enjoy it. Praise the king for letting us have a servant as our source.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Dakon warned. “I doubt anyone will approve of his relaxing the law permanently. It’s too much like slavery.”

  “We’ll see,” Narvelan replied. “So long as we pay the servant in some way it seems reasonable to me. And if too many magicians like the idea it will be hard for King Errik to reinstate the law.”

  Dakon frowned, not liking the hopeful tone in Narvelan’s voice. He still hadn’t decided how to respond to the young magician’s comment when a servant hurried over to them.

  “Lord Werrin requests your presence at the meeting, Lord Narvelan,” the man said. He turned to Dakon. “And yours too, Lord Dakon.”

  Surprised, Dakon exchanged a look of puzzlement with Narvelan. Then he remembered Tessia and turned to her.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told him. “I have plenty of work to do and Jayan has, perhaps foolishly, offered to help. We’re both going to stink of husroot by tomorrow.”

  “At least it’ll make you easier to find,” Dakon replied. She grinned, then he
aded away towards the house where they’d taken up residence, the owners, like many in Calia, having offered the use of it to the magicians after they evacuated to Imardin. Dakon looked at Narvelan, who shrugged, then nodded to the servant to indicate that he should lead them to Werrin.

  From the greeting hall, the servant led them into a corridor then stopped in front of a closed door. He knocked and a voice called out. Opening the door, he stepped aside so they could enter. Lord Werrin was standing beside a large table strewn with paper.

  “Ah, good,” Werrin said. “I was hoping he’d find you two, sooner rather than later. I have propositions for both of you.” He rubbed his hands together and looked from Dakon to Narvelan and back again. “I don’t want country magicians like you being overlooked and under-represented now that we have so many city magicians in the army, especially not if you lose your entire leys.

  At the least, we need you around to remind city magicians what we all will lose if they do not co-operate. You must remain part of all planning and discussion, and to reinforce this I am giving you both official roles. Lord Dakon will be in charge of teachers and organising the lessons of apprentices. Can you think of a good title? Teacher Master, perhaps? I don’t think Apprentice Master will go down well.”

  Dakon chuckled. “No, I’d be suspected of taking charge of everyone’s apprentices. Teacher Master implies anyone volunteering to teach has to become a subordinate, and I can’t imagine that would encourage involvement. How about Training Master?”

  Werrin nodded. “Yes. I like it. Very good. Now,” he turned to Narvelan, “your role is to liaise between country and city magicians. To head off conflict or settle it when it arises. Are you willing to take on the responsibility?”

  Narvelan paused, then nodded slowly. “Yes.” He smiled crookedly.

  “What shall we call you, then?”

  “Country master? No, that won’t do. Is this title thing necessary?”

  “Sabin believes so. The king has nominated him war master.”

  “How very grand.”

  Werrin eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’ve managed to keep to ‘king’s representative’, thankfully. How about we call you the ley representative?” Werrin looked thoughtful. “Yes, then I can call the magician speaking for city magicians the house representative.”