Magician (65 page)

“I came quickly to my growth, a
man at thirteen. There was a woman in the troupe, a widow of a
singer, traveling with her brothers and cousins. She was just past
twenty, but seemed very old to me then. She was the one who
introduced me to the games of men and women.” He stopped for a
moment, reliving memories long forgotten.

Laurie smiled. “It was over
fifteen years ago, Pug. But I can still see her face. We were both a
little lost. It was never a planned thing. It just happened one
afternoon on the road.

“She was . . . kind.” He
looked at Pug. “She knew I was scared, despite my bravado.”
He smiled and closed his eyes. “I can still see the sun in the
trees behind her face, and the smell of her mingled with the scent of
wildflowers.” Opening his eyes he said, “We spent the
next two years together, while I learned to sing. Then I left the
troupe.”

“What happened?” Pug asked,
for this was a new story to him. Laurie had never spoken of his youth
before.

“She married again. He was a good
man, an innkeeper on the road from Malac’s Cross to Durrony’s
Vale. His wife had died the year before of fever, leaving him with
two small sons. She tried to explain things to me, but I wouldn’t
listen. What did I know? I was not quite sixteen, and the world was a
simple place.”

Pug nodded. “I know what you
mean.”

Laurie said, “Look, what I’m
trying to say is that I understand the problem. I can explain how
things work . . .”

Pug said, “I know that. I wasn’t
raised by monks.”

“But you don’t know how
things work.”

Pug nodded as they both laughed. “I
think you should just go to the girl and make your feelings known,”
said Laurie.

“Just talk to her?”

“Of course. Love is like a lot of
things, it is always best done with the head. Save mindless efforts
for mindless things Now go.”

“Now?” Pug looked
panic-stricken.

“You can’t start any
sooner, right?”

Pug nodded and without a word left. He
walked down the dark and quiet corridors, outside to the slave
quarters, and found his way to her door. He raised his hand to knock
on the door frame, then stopped. He stood quietly for a moment trying
to make up his mind what to do, when the door slid open. Almorella
stood in the doorway, clutching her robe about her, her hair
disheveled. “Oh,” she whispered, “I thought it was
Laurie. Wait a moment.” She disappeared into the room, then
shortly reappeared with a bundle of things in her arms. She patted
Pug’s arm and set off in the direction of his and Laurie’s
room.

Pug stood at the door, then slowly
entered. He could see Katala lying under a blanket on her pallet. He
stepped over to where she lay and squatted next to her. He touched
her shoulder and softly spoke her name. She came awake and sat up
suddenly, gathered her blanket around her, and said, “What are
you doing here?”

“I . . . I wanted to talk to
you.” Once started, the words came out in a tumbling rush. “I
am sorry if I’ve done anything to make you angry with me. Or
haven’t done anything. I mean, Laurie said that if you don’t
do something when someone expects you to, that’s as bad as
paying too much attention. I’m not sure, you see.” She
covered her mouth to hide a giggle, for she could see his distress in
spite of the gloom. “What I mean . . . what I mean is I’m
sorry. Sorry for what I’ve done. Or didn’t do . . .”

She silenced him by placing her
fingertips across his mouth. Her arm snaked out and around his neck,
pulling his head downward. She kissed him slowly, then said, “Silly.
Go close the door.”

They lay together, Katala’s arm
across Pug’s chest, while he stared at the ceiling. She made
sleepy sounds, and he ran his hands through her thick hair and across
her soft shoulder.

“What?” she asked sleepily.

“I was just thinking that I
haven’t been happier since I was made a member of the Duke’s
court.”

“ ‘Sgood.” She came a
bit more awake. “What’s a duke?”

Pug thought for a moment. “It’s
like a lord here, only different. My Duke was cousin to the King, and
the third most powerful man in the Kingdom.”

She snuggled closer to him. “You
must have been important to be part of the court of such a man.”

“Not really; I did him a service
and was rewarded for it.” He didn’t think he wanted to
bring up Carline’s name here. Somehow his boyhood fantasies
about the Princess seemed childish in light of this night.

Katala rolled over onto her stomach.
She raised her head and rested it on a hand, forming a triangle with
her arm. “I wish things could be different.”

“How so, love?”

“My father was a farmer in
Thuril. We are among the last free people in Kelewan. If we could go
there, you could take a position with the Coaldra, the Council of
Warriors. They always have need for resourceful men. Then we could be
together.”

“We’re together here,
aren’t we?”

Katala kissed him lightly. “Yes,
dear Pug, we are. But we both remember what it was to be free, don’t
we?”

Pug sat up. “I try to put that
sort of thing out of my mind.”

She put her arms around him, holding
him as she would a child. “It must have been terrible in the
swamps. We hear stories, but no one knows,” she said softly.

“It is well that you don’t.”

She kissed him, and soon they returned
to that timeless, safe place shared by two, all thoughts of things
terrible and alien forgotten. For the rest of the night they took
pleasure in each other, discovering a depth of feeling new to each.
Pug couldn’t tell if she had known other men before, and didn’t
ask. It wasn’t important to him. The only important thing was
being there, with her, now. He was awash in a sea of new delights and
emotions. He didn’t understand his feelings entirely, but there
was little doubt what he felt for Katala was more real, more
compelling, than the worshipful, confused longings he had known when
with Carline.

Weeks passed, and Pug found his life
falling into a reassuring routine. He spent occasional evenings with
the Lord of the Shinzawai playing chess—or shah, as it was
called here—and their conversations gave Pug insights into the
nature of Tsurani life. He could no longer think of these people as
aliens, for he saw their daily life as similar to what he had known
as a boy. There were surprising differences, such as the strict
adherence to an honor code, but the similarities far outnumbered the
differences.

Katala became the centerpiece of his
existence. They came together whenever they found time, sharing
meals, a quick exchange of words, and every night that they could
steal together Pug was sure the other slaves in the household knew of
their nighttime assignations, but the proximity of people in Tsurani
life had bred a certain blindness to the personal habits of others,
and no one cared a great deal about the comings and goings of two
slaves.

Several weeks after his first night
with Katala, Pug found himself alone with Kasumi, as Laurie was
embroiled in another shouting match with the woodcrafter who was
finishing his lute. The man considered Laurie somewhat unreasonable
in objecting to the instrument’s being finished in bright
yellow paint with purple trim. And he saw absolutely no merit in
leaving the natural wood tones exposed. Pug and Kasumi left the
singer explaining to the woodcrafter the requirements of wood for
proper resonance, seemingly intent on convincing by volume as much as
by logic.

They walked toward the stable area.
Several more captured horses had been purchased by agents of the Lord
of the Shinzawai and had been sent to his estate, at what Pug took to
be a great deal of expense and some political maneuvering. Whenever
alone with the slaves, Kasumi spoke the King’s Tongue and
insisted they call him by name. He showed a quickness in learning the
language that matched his quickness in learning to ride.

“Friend Laurie,” said the
older son of the house, “will never make a proper slave from a
Tsurani point of view. He has no appreciation of our arts.”

Pug listened to the argument that still
could be heard coming from the wood-carver’s building. “I
think it more the case of his being concerned over the proper
appreciation of his art.”

They reached the corral and watched as
a spirited grey stallion reared and whinnied at their approach. The
horse had been brought in a week ago, securely tied by several leads
to a wagon, and had repeatedly tried to attack anyone who came close.

“Why do you think this one is so
troublesome, Pug?”

Pug watched the magnificent animal run
around the corral, herding the other horses away from the men. When
the mares and another, less dominant, stallion were safely away, the
grey turned and watched the two men warily.

“I’m not sure. Either he’s
simply a badly tempered animal, perhaps from mishandling, or he’s
a specially trained war-horse. Most of our war mounts are trained not
to shy in battle, to remain silent when held, to respond to their
rider’s command in times of stress. A few, mostly ridden by
lords, are specially trained to obey only their master, and they are
weapons as much as transport, being schooled to attack. He may be one
of these.”

Kasumi watched him closely as he pawed
the ground and tossed his head. “I shall ride him someday,”
he said. “In any event, he will sire a strong line. We now
number five mares, and Father has secured another five. They will
arrive in a few weeks, and we are scouring every estate in the Empire
to find more.” Kasumi got a far-off look and mused, “When
I was first upon your world, Pug, I hated the sight of horses. They
rode down upon us, and our soldiers died. But then I came to see what
magnificent creatures they are. There were other prisoners, when I
was still back on your world, who said you have noble families who
are known for nothing so much as the fine stock of horses they breed.
Someday the finest horses in the Empire shall be Shinzawai horses.”

“By the look of these, you have a
good start, though from what little I know, I think you need a larger
stock for breeding.”

“We shall have as many as it
takes.”

“Kasumi, how can your leaders
spare these captured animals from the war effort? You must surely see
the need to quickly build mounted units if you are going to advance
your conquest.”

Kasumi’s face took on a rueful
expression. “Our leaders, for the most part, are
tradition-bound, Pug. They refuse to see any wisdom in training
cavalry. They are fools. Your horsemen ride over our warriors, and
yet they pretend we cannot learn anything, calling your people
barbarians. I once sieged a castle in your homeland, and those who
defended taught me much about warcraft. Many would brand me traitor
for saying such, but we have held our own only by force of numbers.
For the most part, your generals have more skill. Trying to keep
one’s soldiers alive, rather than sending them to their death,
teaches a certain craftiness.

“No, the truth of the matter is
we are led by men who—” He stopped, realizing he was
speaking dangerously. “The truth is,” he said at last,
“we are as stiff-necked a people as you.”

He studied Pug’s face for a
moment, then smiled. “We raided for horses during the first
year, so that the Warlord’s Great Ones could study the beasts,
to see if they were intelligent allies, like our cho-ja, or merely
animals. It was a fairly comical scene. The Warlord insisted he be
the first to try to ride a horse. I suspect he chose one much like
this big grey, for no sooner did he approach the animal than the
horse attacked, nearly killing him. His honor won’t permit any
other to ride when he failed. And I think he was fearful of trying
again with another animal. Our Warlord, Almecho, is a man of
considerable pride and temper, even for a Tsurani.”

Pug said, “Then how can your
father continue to purchase captured horses? And how can you ride in
defiance of his order?”

Kasumi’s smile broadened. “My
father is a man of considerable influence in the council. Our
politics is strangely twisted, and there are ways to bend any
command, even from the Warlord or High Council, and any order, save
one from the Light of Heaven himself. But most of all it is because
these horses are here, and the Warlord is not.” He smiled “The
Warlord is supreme only in the field. Upon this estate, none may
question my father’s will.”

Since coming to the estate of the
Shinzawai, Pug had been troubled by whatever Kasumi and his father
were plotting. That they were embroiled in some Tsurani political
intrigue he doubted not, but what it might prove to be he had no
idea. A powerful lord like Kamatsu would not spend this much effort
satisfying a whim of even a son as favored as Kasumi. Still, Pug knew
better than to involve himself any more than he was involved by
circumstance. He changed the topic of conversation. “Kasumi, I
was wondering something.”

“Yes?”

“What is the law regarding the
marriage of slaves?”

Kasumi seemed unsurprised by the
question. “Slaves may marry with their master’s
permission. But permission is rarely given. Once married, a man and
wife may not be separated, nor can children be sold away so long as
the parents live. That is the law. Should a married couple live a
long time, an estate could become burdened with three or four
generations of slaves, many more than they could economically
support. But occasionally permission is granted. Why, do you wish
Katala for your wife?”

Pug looked surprised. “You know?”

Without arrogance Kasumi said, “Nothing
occurs upon my father’s estates that he is ignorant of, and he
confides in me. It is a great honor.”

Pug nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t
know yet. I feel much for her, but something holds me back. It’s
as if . . .” He shrugged, at a loss for words.