Color Mage (Book 1) (30 page)

There were prisoners in almost all of the cells. Callo could hear their sounds, the mumbling to each other through the walls. He saw an occasional face through the tiny, barred windows. One cell held a group of women, veiled even here in prison. In another cell a bearded man with a pale face yelped “Ku’an!” and the warning echoed in a dull fashion down the passageway, stilling all the voices for a moment. Then the warder brought them to one door, no different from the rest, and said, “Here she is.”

Callo looked through the little window and felt his pulse jump. The cell had no external window, so Kirian was lit only by the wavering lamplight from the hallway. She paced back and forth, but did not seem in undue distress. She seemed in deep thought, her gaze on the floor.

“Kirian!”

She looked up at the window. “Lord Callo!” She smiled. “Thank the Unknown God, you are here. I wasn’t sure they would tell you what happened.”

“The ku’an’an told me. He respects you, I think. Are you all right?” In spite of his fear for her, he felt a rush of relief that she was glad to see him.

“I am perfectly well, except I am forced to be here. I should have expected it sooner.”

“What happened?”

She told him what had happened that morning. “But whether that was why they decided to arrest me, I don’t know. I think they’ve been ready to do this since the day we set foot on the docks.”

“The ku’an’an told me you are being treated well. Is that true?”

“Well enough. I have food, and water, and a blanket. No one has hurt me or even spoken to me rudely.” She moved aside so he could see a water jug and some bread on a wooden tray on the bench behind her. “What do you think will happen next?”

Callo’s mouth set. “I have no idea. It could be almost anything. I’ll get you out of here, Kirian, I swear it.”

“My thanks.” There was no distress in her voice; it was even a little soothing, as if she were trying to keep him calm.

It did not work. His blood was boiling.

The warder took care on the way out to show Callo the room of guards, currently sitting around a table playing dice, but clearly armed and available to quell any attempts at escape or rescue. He pulled the big gates together with a crash and locked them, nodding at the two men standing guard there before he bid farewell to Callo and vanished into his rooms.

Callo went to Ar’ok’s audience room and demanded admittance.

“My lord ku’an, the King is not here,” said the guard.

“Then where is he?”

The guard did not know. Callo tracked down the ku’an’an again, this time in his office, and said with no greeting: “Where is Ar’ok? I need to see him.”

Si’lan raised his eyebrows and dismissed the clerk he had been meeting with. “You’d best calm down before you find him, or you will likely be in the cell next to the Healer’s.”

“How could he do that? She saved his life, Si’lan. Gods curse him.”

“Ar’ok follows only his own inclinations.”

“As do all of you ku’an,” flashed Callo.

“You came here. You are subject to our rule. If you don’t like it, you should not have come here! The woman is out of your reach. Accept it. It was too late when she went to that hospital, flouting the modesty laws in public. There is nothing you can do. She will be treated well until . . .”

“Until—what?”

The ku’an’an stared at him and did not reply. Callo felt a pressure inside his mind and shook his head viciously, seeing to his internal wall, making sure it could keep away the man’s influence. “No, you don’t. Don’t you dare try to calm me down. What do you think I am, a fool, to let you do that twice?”

Si’lan’s mouth curled in an unpleasant smile. The pressure ebbed.

Callo swore and stalked out of the room. When he got back to his own room, he found Chiss sitting on the floor, sorting through a pile of clothing and other items. He strode past Chiss without a word of greeting and began pacing back and forth in front of the open window, trying to plan through his rage.

“My lord,” Chiss said. “How is Hon Kirian? You have been to see her?”

“She is well enough, considering what that fool King has done to her.” He turned and looked at Chiss where the man sat in a welter of fabric, and some things that looked like veils. “What is that stuff?”

“Hon Kirian’s clothing, my lord. I saved it from her room. I’m packing some of it.”

“Not her bag though? I am sure they took that?”

“They searched it, then threw it away. I know they took the sart leaf from the bag. But I saved what I could. Here it is.”

Callo opened the bag and looked through the few items remaining in it. Kirian’s Healer’s knife was gone, of course; anyone would want a fine knife. The precious sart leaf was gone. The bag still held a few vials and bags of herbs, jumbled from hasty handling. No doubt the searchers had no idea what these were, and had abandoned them with the bag. “I’m surprised they left anything at all behind.”

“They are fools,” Chiss said. “They took only what the King ordered them to take, and maybe the knife out of greed.”

“I imagine the King or the Lord Physician will send them back for the rest of the bag’s contents as soon as they know it was left behind. My thanks for rescuing it, Chiss.” He handed the bag back to Chiss. “What do you think they plan to do with her? Execute her, perhaps?”

“My lord, there is no way to know. I have tried to get some information out of some of the other servants here. I think she could be executed. She could be handed over to one of Som’ur’s priests. She could be branded and freed—but she is a political prisoner too, and I think they do not plan to free her under any circumstances.”

Callo felt his face flush again with temper. “They will not do any such thing while I am here to do something about it.”

Chiss looked up at him, his eyes gentle. “My lord, they will have you watched.”

“They may watch me until their eyes fall out. They have already tried to soothe me by showing me how well they are treating her. Jashan’s eyes! They are planning to kill her! Do they think I am so self-involved as to not protect my own?”

“They do not expect you to do anything, since they would do nothing in the same circumstances. What is your plan, then, my lord?”

Callo looked at the man’s lean face and grinned. The helpless anger receded. He said, “I do greatly value you, Chiss. I don’t know what I would do without you, my friend.”

Chiss folded another rectangle of fabric and added it to his pile. “What then?”

“It looks as if we are going to have to leave this place. I hope you have not grown too attached.”

“I left Ha’las once before. Remember? I am not at all attached to it. There is a feeling of desperation about the people here in the palace that I will be grateful to escape.”

“Comes from being around all these ku’an,” muttered Callo. “Damn Ar’ok infects all of them with his cruelty.”

“I think the King is very young to have such power. It is more likely that he is a product of others’ intentions, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. I never saw a boy of that age so . . . warped. It is the psychic magery that corrupts him. I won’t be one of them, Chiss, I have resolved it.”

“I think it is the man who shapes how the power is used, rather than the power that shapes the man.”

“Hah! My experience indicates otherwise.” Callo paced a few more minutes as his anger wound down and his mind began to function better. “Chiss, we must pack. We must leave this place immediately.”

“My lord, I am willing to go wherever you say. But have you accomplished what you wished to, when we abandoned your life in Righar?”

“You know I have not. I have my suspicions about who my sire might be, but they won’t be confirmed. And as to finding out more about the ku’an, I am no longer interested in the brutal fools.”

Chiss began to gather the pile of veils together. His eyes still did not meet his lord’s. “If you leave, there will be no chance of ever finding out more.”

“I no longer care. Kirian is in prison, and if not for me, she wouldn’t even be in this cursed land. It is my fault. I find she is more important to me than what may or may not have happened thirty years ago.”

“My lord, there is no foreign ship in port—no way to buy passage.”

“How do you know this?”

“It seemed a good idea to know when Ghosian or some other foreign captain was in port.”

“Well done. So we must find a way out of this city and head overland, to the east. If those assassins got in, we can get out.” Callo stared out the window again, not feeling the warm breeze. His mind struggled with plans and contingencies. His thoughts suddenly felt muddled, as if he were ill. “We need to pack light. Just what we need to get us back. Also, some Ha’lasi coin.”

“Some food and water would be even more important than extra coin. My lord, we must have our horses.”

“And an idea of the lay of the land. How did you leave last time, Chiss? Have you any idea of the land between here and—say—Anha’lin? That is on the east coast, according to my maps.”

“I left on a ship from Las’ash. I grew up in the northern countryside until I was brought here to serve.”

“A farm boy,” Callo said, only half his attention on the man. “So, do you think you can help us live off the land until Anha’lin, if I can find the way?”

“Not unless the gods set out a table of meats for us every evening, Lord Callo.”

Callo laughed. “I think we need a guide.”

“My lord,” Chiss said in alarm. “Whom would you trust? Telling anyone our plan is likely to have us in prison next to Hon Kirian, and hanged the next morning in front of the boy King.”

Callo made a calming motion with his hands. “Don’t worry, Chiss, I know of a man who might help. I will track him down if you will pack—very light, all right? And for Kirian as well.” His eye caught the tunic he had just purchased, one of gold-threaded amber that looked like the sun in spring, and he sighed. “It is too bad about the new clothes, but one can always get more of those later, I suppose.”

“Indeed. My lord, do we go armed to the cells?”

“We will have to. I am glad you can carry your part of a fight.” Callo took a quick sip of the wine on the table to quell his growing headache. His face felt flushed, yet he shivered a little in the breeze from the open window. He ignored the deepening ache from his right arm as he turned to leave. Chiss stood before him, looking grim.

“What?”

“You cannot wield a sword, Lord Callo.”

“I will do my best. I have no choice.”

“You must consider that you will need to use your ku’an magery to get Hon Kirian out of the cells.”

“With Jashan’s aid, I will not. My arm will hold.”

Chiss gave him a level look. “I remember something you said when you and Lord Arias commanded a unit in the South. It comes to mind just now.”

Callo crossed his arms. “Well?”

“You told Hon Drale that if he were not honest with his men, he’d deserve the failure that would come to him.”

Callo sighed. “I remember.”

“Then take your own advice, my lord.”

“I have asked Jashan to bind that magery. It is cursed, Chiss. It brings only shame.”

“It will not bring shame if used with honor and care.” Chiss shrugged. “I will do as you say, as always, Lord Callo. But if you go in unprepared, we may not get out again.”

Callo did not want to think about using the magery again—even if the god Jashan, whom he had asked to bind him, permitted it. Each time he had used it, he had regretted it. But he supposed he would do anything to get Kirian safely out of Ha’las.

“I will consider it. Let me go, Chiss, or I’ll be unable to find my guide.”

Chiss bowed very slightly. His unusual courtesy puzzled Callo all the way to the Black Duck. He rode Miri to the tavern, his head swimming a little from the pain of his wounded arm. The mare was skittish, and she pranced in the spring dusk. The poor mare had not had enough exercise, Callo thought. “My good Miri,” he said, and she flicked her ears back at him. “I have missed you, my beauty. Soon we will be on our way again.”

He tied Miri to a rail under the eye of a city guard and, for good measure, tucked a coin into the guard’s hand to make it worth his while to keep the mare safe. Then he walked down the alley and entered the Black Duck. As the door swung shut on the early dusk, blackness enveloped him, and he said, “Gri’nel, is it you? You know I cannot see you.”

“Ha, is it you?” came the raspy old voice. “Ku’an’s ass, I don’t believe it. You lived, did ya?”

“I did. Will you let me keep my sword?”

“Hell yes, and your belt knife too. Don’t want no ku’an pissed at me again, do I?” The inner door opened and Callo entered the tavern proper.

Fa’lar, leaning against the bar with his ropy arms crossed, came alert when he saw who had entered. “Welcome, my lord ku’an. You’ll be bringing no more trouble with you now?”

“The trouble was never yours,” Callo said. “I am looking for Ha’star.”

“Sit down and have some ale. He’ll be along.”

The veiled young woman brought the drink, and Callo sat sipping it until the door opened and Ha’star came into the tavern.

“Lord Callo,” he said. “What brings you here again? I’ve told you what I know.” He sat next to Callo and accepted a mug of ale.

“I need help,” Callo said. “I thought of you first, since you are no friend to the ku’an in the Castle.”

“No friend to any ku’an.”

Callo nodded. “That’s as may be. I thought to ask you, since you acted as a friend to me.”

“So what is it? You’ll not use your ku’an magic on me if I say nay?”

“You know I will not.” Callo eased his arm, which was throbbing now, and noticed Ha’star follow the subtle movement with the keen eye of a swordsman. It was just as well; Ha’star should know what he was getting himself into, and what the risks were, especially that he could not necessarily count on Callo’s aid in a fight. “I need a guide. A guide who knows his way to Anha’lin or some other place where myself and two others can secretly take ship back to Righar.”

“This isn’t court-approved, or you’d be leaving from Las’ash.” Ha’star shook his head and looked doubtful. “You being a noble and all, I doubt you know how to manage ‘til we get there. You need a woodsman.”