Read season avatars 01 - seasons beginnings Online
Authors: sandra ulbrich almazan
yet.
“I was lucky to survive myself,” she said. “Phebe nursed me through
it, even though she has her own husband and children to look after. So
now I’m helping her care for her family until I have a chance to sing at
the palace. I missed my audition because of the plague.”
Kron tried not to wince. He might be a stranger in this town, but
even he’d heard that the palace wasn’t the safest place for young, at-
tractive women.
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Bella snuck a sideways glance at him. “What about you? I don’t
think I’ve seen you in the marketplace before. You’re not from
Vistichia, are you?”
“No, from Delns, northeast of here. I’m on my way to see my family.
I haven’t been back there for twenty years.” Normally Kron could have
created a portal to travel instantly to a place he’d been to before, but his
family home must have changed too much with the recent wars and
other catastrophes all over the known world. Although he’d resented
walking from the Magic Institute across the Western Mountains, then
sailing down the Chikasi River to Vistichia, he’d had more adventures
by traveling like a person without magic than he would have otherwise.
Phebe led Bella and Kron around one house, indistinguishable from
the rest, to the back. Part of the area was paved with stone, while a
chicken coop and a small garden of vegetables occupied the rest of the
space. Although Kron cautiously picked his way through the dirt and
droppings to the henhouse, something disgusting splattered into his san-
dal.
“Bella, go put our purchases away, then start preparing dinner.”
Phebe began weeding, but she positioned herself so she could watch
Kron at the same time. He suspected she was more worried about what
he might do to the rest of her hens than interested in his magic.
“Good luck,” Bella mouthed at him before leaving.
Kron would have liked to linger—perhaps Bella would find a reason
to come outside—but he could feel Phebe’s stare boring into his back.
Ignoring her, Kron brought out the finder he’d shown the women ear-
lier, then circled the henhouse. He was three-fourths of the way around
before the arrow jerked and swung off in another direction. Before he
could follow it, the arrow spun and landed in the opposite direction.
Either the magician was transporting him or herself around, or else the
finder was picking up more than one source of magic. Kron hoped it
was the former.
For the next few hours he wandered all over Vistichia, following his
finder to ripe-smelling midden piles, windowsills of homes and bakery
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shops, and the harbor where the Chikasi met the Salt Waters. Each time
the finder brought him to a place where someone could hide, although
some of the places, such as a wine barrel or a nook in a wall, were too
small for Kron to enter. Perhaps he was following the traces of a magic
spy, someone or something sent to learn the weaknesses of the town
before invaders arrived. But the spy avoided the gates and other sources
of military information; very strange. And what kind of spy would mu-
tilate a chicken? Kron drummed his fingers on the finder as he tried to
make sense of it.
By sunset, the traces became clustered in the northwest section of
the town, near the forest. As Kron followed the finder to the edge of
Vistichia, the cat’s-eye embedded in the base began to glow, a sign he
was coming to a stronger source of magic. The arrow pointed to the
forest. To get there, Kron waded through knee-high grass that poked
through his leggings.
The finder pointed him to a tangle of undergrowth. Kron pushed
sticky branches away from his face as he squeezed through the brush
surrounding the narrow path. The glow from the cat’s-eye provided
much-needed light. What sort of magician could use a trail like this?
Perhaps he or she had shrunk in size or changed into an animal. Or per-
haps….
“From north to south, you are dead! Wash your face and go to bed!”
The cat’s-eye scorched the finder as something dropped from a tree
into the bushes. A brown bear rose and roared, jaws gaping and sharp
claws extended. Kron’s heart raced even as he realized it was an illu-
sion. He tried to banish it but failed. How could this unknown magician
be so strong? He hadn’t met anyone of this caliber since leaving the
Magic Institute. Was this a peer, a rival, or an enemy?
Kron ripped a white thread from his tunic and enchanted it to turn
strong and sticky, then threw it at the other magician as a distraction
while he prepared another weapon. To his surprise, the illusion of the
bear dissipated, and a high voice cried out, “That’s not fair! Let me go,
or I’ll call my mother!”
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“Your mother?” Kron pushed through the branches to reveal his cap-
tive: a boy, about six or seven, with apple-round cheeks and dark brown
hair dappled by the sunlight pouring through the half-grown leaves. He
had an extra finger on each hand, and as he squirmed, his joints bent
backward as naturally as they did forward.
“What’s your name, son?” Kron asked.
The boy stopped struggling and looked at him, dark eyelashes
shielding his fearless eyes, so green they made the leaves above seem
dull. “Are you my father? Mother never told me who he was, but I know
he can’t be a Nil.”
“A Nil?”
“You know, one of them.” The boy’s voice dripped adult scorn on
the last word. “The ones without magic. Mother says the only thing
they’re good for is serving us magicians.”
Kron frowned. Didn’t this child know any ordinary people? Why
wasn’t his mother teaching this child more respect for others? Kron
knew only one magician who was so contemptuous of those without
magic, but she was nowhere near here. Still… “Is your mother’s name
Salth?” Kron asked.
The boy nodded. “My name’s Sal-thaath. What’s yours?”
“Kron Evenhanded. I’m a … I knew your mother. We studied magic
together about ten years ago.”
He couldn’t really say he had been a friend of Salth’s; he didn’t re-
member her having any friends at all. She had spent all her time at the
Magic Institute studying. She’d done well on her own but refused to
perform group magic, saying she couldn’t trust anyone. Rumor had it
that she was the sister of a city-king far to the east. When he summoned
her home to be his personal magician, she’d sent the messenger back in
animal form, though no one was sure exactly what type of animal. Had
she thawed enough to take a lover since leaving the Magic Institute?
Kron wouldn’t have believed it, but Sal-thaath’s existence proved oth-
erwise.
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“Sal-thaath,” he said, “if you don’t like ordinary people, why were
you spying on them?”
“I wanted to see what they were like. We don’t have any close to
home.”
“And the chicken?”
The child’s expression never changed. “Oh, that. I was just playing
around.”
“Playing around! You can’t do that. You could hurt someone.”
A puzzled look appeared in the boy’s eyes. “What does hurt mean?”
Kron frowned. “Haven’t you ever fallen, or cut yourself?”
“No.”
Further questioning revealed he’d never been hurt at all; his potent
magic had always protected him. Kron wondered how Salth disciplined
him—if she even did. She had to know that a powerful, untrained ma-
gician with a child’s impulses could wreak an unimaginable amount of
damage.
“Where’s your mother?”
“Back near the mountains.” He said it casually, as if the mountains
were next door instead of close to the Magic Institute. Sal-thaath tried
to break free. “Can I go home now?”
“Only if you take me with you. I need to speak to your mother.”
“Does this mean you’re going to be my father?”
Kron didn’t know how to answer that question. He didn’t want to
take responsibility for this child, but someone had to tame him before
people were hurt. He broke the thread. “Let’s go.”
C H A P T E R T W O
Salth
Sal-thaath took Kron’s hand, but he didn’t lead him to a portal. Be-
fore he could blink, they arrived at the foothills of the Western
Mountains, thousands and thousands of furlongs from Vistichia. Pine
trees scented the air, and an eagle plunged into a nearby stream, emerg-
ing with a fat fish. “Your country is beautiful,” Kron said, wishing
privately that Sal-thaath would stay here instead of traveling to
Vistichia at will. “I didn’t know you can travel without a portal.”
“It’s easy.” Sal-thaath danced, crushing delicate wildflowers under-
foot. He gripped Kron’s hand with all six fingers. “This way, behind the
trees.”
Salth’s home looked as if a stone house from Thaume, the city near
the Magic Institute, had swallowed an abandoned farmhouse. Kron
wondered why she’d bothered to graft the two together. There was no
one here to appreciate her magical talent. Perhaps she’d done it for the
challenge. She’d always been like that, as if she needed to prove her
worth by seeking out the most difficult tasks.
Sal-thaath led Kron inside the farmhouse section. The single large
room was cluttered, with dirty dishes of various types piled in the dusty
hearth. The room smelled moldy, and flies buzzed everywhere. Sal-
thaath raced through the room to the marble section. “Mother,” he
called, “come see! I’ve found a father!”
“I’m not your father, child,” Kron muttered under his breath.
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The marble section of the house was as neat as the farmhouse was
chaotic. Shelves of scrolls and tablets lined the walls from floor to ceil-
ing. Water clocks, sun dials, and striped candles formed an obstacle
course. Salth herself hadn’t changed. She aimed a sight-enhancer—
Kron recognized the piece as one he’d made—out of the window as if
searching for a new star. Next to the sight-enhancer was a scroll with
marks arranged in an uneven circle. Salth’s limbs were as thin and an-
gular as ever, though she had gained matronly curves. Her reddish-
brown skin looked sallow, as if she hadn’t been outside in moons. Her
only feminine traits were her luxurious hair, caught in a jeweled hair
net, and the twisted lines tattooed on her cheeks and hands. Despite the
noise Sal-thaath made as he brandished a stick and knocked over scrolls
and tablets, his mother didn’t look away from the sight-enhancer.
It must be working well.
Kron itched to inspect his old artifact, but
he said nothing and waited for Salth to look up.
After a hundred or so heartbeats, Sal-thaath swung his stick so that
it struck the sight-enhancer. Kron leaped forward, arms extended, to
catch it, but Salth maintained her firm grip. “Sal-thaath, be more care-
ful!” She finally turned her head, blinked a few times, then started as
she stared at Kron.
“I know you,” she said. “You were at the Magic Institute, weren’t
you? Who are you again, and what are you doing here?”
“I’m Kron. Kron Evenhanded.” He dipped his head. “My specialty
is enchanting objects.”
“Ah, yes, I remember. Knickknack work.”
Kron’s smile slipped. “Like the sight-enhancer you’re using? I made
it.”
“Is that true?” She examined the bronze tube, decorated with a scene
of boats in a harbor. “Pretty shell, simple magic.”
“If it’s so simple, why not make your own sight-enhancer?”
She sniffed. “I have more important things to do than make tools. If
you’d actually bothered to use your sight-enhancer to look past the
clouds, you’d know something is coming that will affect us all.”
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Kron didn’t respond. Salth liked to think she knew more about magic
than even her instructors. That was why she’d chosen to leave the Magic
Institute—that, and her refusal to teach, claiming only slaves taught oth-
ers.
“Don’t you even want to know what I’m talking about?” she asked.
“If it’s that important, I’m sure I’ll find out eventually.”
Her frown hardened. “You don’t believe me, do you? Never mind,
then. Talk is a waste of time. I never have enough time for all I want to
study. There must be a way to find more time. Look at how much of it
Nils waste, and they seldom make it to forty or fifty years when they
could live much longer.”
Nils? Does she mean people? Ordinary people, like Phebe and
Bella?
Sal-thaath took a few steps forward. “I thought you said Nils don’t
have magic, Mother, so how could they live longer?”
“They do have some in their souls. Not much, a few drops compared
to the double-mighty waterfalls we carry. But there are so many of them
that they would make a nice source of magic for the magician double-
smart enough to figure out how to collect it—or their time.” Her eye-
brows knitted together as she glowered at Kron. “What are you still