The Fire Mages (29 page)

“It did. It worked so well that
you
fell in love with
me
.”

His face softened. “That’s true. I wish... Well, never mind.”

“But I don’t think it’s real, is it?” I went on, oblivious. “What you feel, I mean? It’s just the effect of the renewal. You don’t
really
love me.”

I couldn’t read the expression on his face. He said nothing, but I felt I’d hurt him and I didn’t quite know how to set things right. Whatever he felt, though, he was always patient with me.

~~~~~

Almost as soon as I became a mage, the Drashon expected me to attend various trials and hearings and diplomatic meetings, to determine who spoke the truth. Sometimes Drei was asked to do it, but usually the Drashon preferred me. Since people expected a mage to wield a vessel and I had none, I was given a token to hold, a finely carved piece of ebony, which I rested in my lap.  If I detected a lie, I would raise the token. If I detected a partial lie, I would raise my hand instead, and then the Drashon would interrupt the proceedings.

“Lady Mage?” He was always very respectful towards me, for all the world as if I were noble-born. I liked him for that.

I would answer him with appropriate gravity. “The Master Merchant speaks truly about the date and place of the agreement, Highness, but the amount is a lie.”

This talent of mine caused some consternation amongst those presenting petitions to the Drashon. There was a flurry of cases settled before they were heard, or withdrawn altogether, and after that I detected few lies.

In between my studies and attendance on the Drashon, there were also many formal events requiring my presence. At least, it was not so much me but Yannassia whose presence was required, and that meant Drei and therefore me. Drei was now officially betrothed to Yannassia, subject to the nobles’ approval, and had also contracted a second drusse, one of Yannassia’s attendants, who giggled and blushed whenever Drei spoke to her. The four of us would dress in our finest outfits, make an impressive entrance, Yannassia on Drei’s arm and the two drusse in formation behind with the guards. We would drift about the room talking to this or that favoured noble or ambassador, or else sit in an alcove as supplicants came by in ones and twos to press for favours, and then leave as soon as we decently could.

Drei enjoyed these affairs, and so, I think, did the second drusse, but Yannassia was more of my mind: that they were a necessary evil. Personally, I found them far less trying now, since all the attention was on the two nobles, and I rarely had to speak at all. I could wear one of my lovely azai and some tasteful jewelry, and then stand unregarded enjoying the spectacle or lost in my own thoughts or sampling the food, which was always wonderful, as every host tried to outshine all the others and produce ever more exotic delights.

Sometimes I saw Cal at these events, and if I could slip away we would grab a few quiet moments together. Unless it was formal enough to require robes, he always looked rather scruffy, as if he’d just thrown on whatever came to hand randomly and had forgotten to comb his hair. I felt overdressed beside him. We had agreed to be very cautious in public, and not give rise to any comment that might reflect badly on Drei. I’d had my differences with Drei, and the Moon Gods know he’d treated me abominably, but the baby growing in my belly was now his, and I didn’t want to do anything that might upset his marriage plans. So Cal and I were very demure, both in public and in private.

To be honest, I wasn’t at all sure what I felt for Cal. I’d slept with him more out of pity and my own loneliness, got used to his companionship and then his abrupt disappearance had been a terrible shock. I’d missed him far more than I would have guessed, and I was thrilled to have him back.

But now that everything was back on the level again, I found my need for him receding. I enjoyed learning from him, for he was highly intelligent and much better educated than I was, but he was still subject to violent mood swings and sometimes he just wanted to be left alone. Then he would leave me books to read and exercises to do, and would disappear for two or three suns to do who knew what. I suspected he went to the city. I found him difficult to understand. I liked him very much as a friend and respected him as a mage, but no more than that.

As the spring unfurled into summer, there was just one difficult moment, when the Council of Nobles requested an interview with me. Many of the nobility had been present at my hearing, had heard the disjointed account of my captivity, and seen me apparently bound and taken away under guard. Since then, rumours had flown about my escape, my midnight chat to the Drashon and the subsequent change in my status, and undoubtedly the whispers added their own lurid embellishments. It wasn’t surprising that the nobles wanted to know what the truth was, as was their right. While the Drashon ostensibly wielded sole power in the realm, and Council couldn’t directly countermand his orders, they could question, delay and obstruct, and they had the ultimate power of approving the Drashon and his heirs.

The full Council of Nobles met only once a year, in summer, to discuss and approve major law changes and treaties, but there was a resident Council of ten members, two for each Kell-Durshalon. There were smaller versions of this arrangement to manage each Kell-Durshalon, and below that each Kell, but the Kingswell Council oversaw the whole realm. When I was summoned, Drei was a wobbling mass of nerves, naturally.

“Just don’t say anything
stupid
, Kyra,” he kept saying. “No need to talk about kidnapping or any such nonsense.”

“They know exactly what you did, and I’m not going to lie about it.”

“Well, the hearing was more about your spells, and how you got out of the house, so the reason for you being there didn’t come into it. I just don’t want them to think I’m the kind of person who goes round locking up a misbehaving drusse.”

I laughed at that, I couldn’t help it, for it was exactly what he was.

But I was feeling benevolent towards Drei at the time. As soon as my new drusse contract was signed, his manner towards me had changed. The edginess dropped away and he was back to the charming, affable man who’d kept me entertained on the dull journey to Kingswell, with an added degree of solicitude for my delicate condition, as he described it.

He was very proud of his coming baby. He showered me with expensive gifts and made sure I was invited to all the most glittering occasions. Best of all, he was absorbed by Yannassia and his new drusse, so I rarely had to spend much time alone with him, and there was no question of sex. So I agreed that I would try to portray his actions in a good light. Privately, I wasn’t sure how well I would cope with probing questioning – I’m not very good at thinking quickly and finding the right words. But he would be interviewed by Council himself later, so he could perhaps smooth over any mistakes I made.

The Council Chamber was a vast cube of a room, designed to accommodate the many hundreds of nobles who attended the summer meetings, but unlike most of the Keep, it was starkly plain. Walls and floor were of undecorated marble, an austere pale grey, the tiered seats that filled most of the room were of the same marble, as were the dais at one end and its ten high-backed chairs. The only decoration was on the wall behind the dais, where the symbols of the five Kell-Durshalon were engraved in images the height of a man. It was like being in a mausoleum.

On the floor below the dais sat a single wooden chair, with a small table beside it bearing jugs of water and wine, and a pair of crystal goblets. I felt exposed sitting there, with the ten Council members above me on their imposing thrones, and a scattering of other nobles in the tiered seats behind me, murmuring amongst themselves. I couldn’t see him, but I knew Cal was there too, invited by Council, presumably to restore order in case uncontrolled magic leaked out of me and caused damage to any noble. Although he was himself noble-born, Cal had surrendered his automatic right to attend Council when he became a mage.

Fortunately, none of the questions were terribly daunting. They were interested in my magic, what I could and couldn’t do, how I got in and out of the Imperial City and what I had found there. They were concerned about the missing guards and Marras and the mage. They wanted to know about my spells on the Drashon and Krayfon, and what had been discussed at the midnight meeting. That was all simple enough to answer. Eventually they got round to Drei and our little jaunt to Ictharia. I described what had happened in bald terms, but of course they wanted more.

“And you were locked in the cellar, Lady Mage?”

How to answer discreetly? “Um. I believed so at the time, Worshipful Lady.”

“You believed so? Either you were or you were not.” She was a large woman, and she leaned forward and glowered at me, jowls wobbling above a tight collar studded with gems.

“I thought I was,” I squeaked, “but when I tried the door it wasn’t locked.”

“But they kept you down there for – what was it, three suns?”

An easier one to sidestep. “Not continuously, no. I asked if I could check on my horse, and they let me do that, and introduced me to the kitchen servants.” There! That sounded more guest than prisoner.

“And what reason was given for keeping you there against your will? It
was
against your will, was it not?”

No avoiding the truth, but I could soften it a bit. “Oh, yes! I didn’t want to be there. They were strangers to me, you see, I didn’t understand their language... No, I wanted to go home.”

“But why did Bai-Kellon Axandrei leave you there like that? What was his intention?”

Awkward question. “I can’t speak for his intentions, you’ll have to ask him to answer that.”

“We will, naturally. But he must have given you a reason, or perhaps you overheard him explaining to his family about his plans?”

“When they talked together, it was in Ictharian.”

I was falling apart by the time they finished, bathed in sweat and my head pounding. But I think I’d swerved around the most awkward questions and luckily nobody mentioned kidnapping. A few suns later they interviewed Drei and he must have satisfied them, for I heard no more about it. A moon or so later approval was given for him to marry Yannassia, conditional on the production of at least two children from his drusse.

Not long after that my pregnancy was officially confirmed, but I was in no hurry to move out of the vast apartment I still shared with Drei. He was rarely there, turning up only to change clothes before dashing off again on some important business. He spent every night with his new drusse, thank the Moon God. She was whispered to be pregnant too, and Drei was as smug as could be about it.

~~~~~

About a moon before the summer festivals, something unexpected happened. It appeared that Drei hadn’t forgotten his sister, Bellastria, after all, and three potential suitors had been found. They were related to the Drashon somehow, and were all brothers, or perhaps cousins, I wasn’t sure – they used an old word, which meant a close male relative. Anyway, they were all to go in state to Ardamurkan to meet Bellastria, together with several law scribes to thrash out a suitable contract, and if she liked one of them, there would be a wedding before the year was out.

The Drashon decreed that I was to go as well. He’d had the bright idea that, since my magic had spelled my sister Deyria, perhaps my magic could break the spell’s power. I wasn’t confident, myself, but it was worth a try. Cal would go with me, and we were to go on afterwards to Durmaston.

“You have not seen your home for a long time,” the Drashon said kindly, “and a great deal has happened to you lately. It will do you good to see your family and friends again. You can have a rest from your studies, and perhaps you will be there in time for your brother’s wedding.”

I smiled and thanked him politely, through gritted teeth. The last thing I wanted was to see Deyria again, now that the whole world knew that I’d spelled her so thoroughly that she would possibly never have children. I wasn’t terribly keen to see my family again, either. What did I have in common with them now? I was a mage, and they were still mired in the same boring rut.

It would be fun to see Galnan married, of course, although it was curious how the Drashon had come to hear about that. I hadn’t told many people, and I couldn’t imagine that anyone would think it interesting enough to tell the Drashon. Strange.

I had no time to wonder, though, for within three suns the preparations were made and we were on the road.

Travelling with Cal was very different from travelling with Drei, I discovered. Drei had kept me entertained every step of the way, with a constant stream of anecdotes, or snippets of information about the surroundings or its history, and had thoughtfully provided drinks and sweet delicacies to while the hours away. I never had to do anything except sit and be amused.

Cal wasn’t entertaining in the least. Mostly he was morose, and would sit for hours in silence. When he spoke at all, it was to complain. The carriage was too bouncy, the roads too rutted, the inns too full of spiders and the beds lumpy and damp. The food he barely touched, with the result that he became desperately hungry at odd hours. I would hear him prowling about well before dawn, or else he would insist on stopping the carriage in some rat-infested hole of a village to buy something – anything – edible, which drove the rest of the party mad. If he hadn’t been a mage, I suspect they would have left him behind. I took to making up a basket of bread, cheese and fruit at each inn to take in the carriage, together with a couple of flasks of wine. Then he would eat when he was hungry, drink himself into unconsciousness and snore away the afternoon.

Apart from the irritation of Cal, the journey was remarkably comfortable. Unlike my previous trip, we were a small enough group that we could make good time on the road – when Cal’s quirks allowed us to. We were accommodated in the best inns or guest houses, and everyone strained to produce the finest food and entertainment for us. Occasionally we passed through a decent-sized town and stayed at the Kellon’s or Durshalon’s hall, and were feasted like princes. Then Cal would exert himself to be sociable. He was very clever, in his way, and could be erudite with his fellow mages, exchange political speculation with the nobles or flirt with easily impressed females. He seldom said a word to me.

We made good time, despite Cal, so when we came to the Taysil River, the three brothers, or whatever they were, asked if we would mind a small diversion. There was a town a few hours along the road to the east which had some kind of training facility they were keen to see. There was a good guest hall, and we could cross the river by the bridge there and cut back to the main road further south, losing no more than a sun’s travel. Everyone agreed to it. To be honest, we were all a little tired of the endless pine forests, and the prospect of travelling beside the river for a while was very pleasant.

We hadn’t bargained for the poor state of the road. One of the luggage wagons broke an axle, and the law scribes’ carriage was damaged, too, so we arrived late in the afternoon, with the prospect of spending at least two nights in the town while repairs were made. I’d never been in the river region before, but I thought it very strange. The houses, even the brick or stone ones, were painted bizarre colours – reds and oranges and yellows – so as we approached the town it looked like a badly tended flowerbed. Close to the river, buildings were raised on stilts so they looked half finished. The streets were full of raucous crowds, not going anywhere, just standing about, some of them singing drunkenly.

“Looks like some kind of festival,” one of the guards said, leaning down to shout through the carriage window. “We’ll be lucky to find beds for the night.” She was right; the guest hall was full, so we were squeezed into various inns.

Cal and I, together with his personal servant, the carriage driver and a couple of guards, were assigned to an inn quite near the river. I could look out of my window and see brown water sliding smoothly past the bridge supports. It was an odd sensation, as if I was moving too. The near bank was open and grassy, but on the far side willows dipped down to brush against the water, and water birds glided to and fro, or ducked below, bobbing up again further downstream. There were none that I recognised. I wished I had Drei with me, for he would have known what they were.

We left the servant and driver settling the horses and organising luggage, and went downstairs to the inn’s entrance lobby. The manager, a fussily dressed woman of indeterminate years, bustled out of some inner fastness when we rang the bell.

“Yes?”

“Where is your board room?” I said.

“My what? Oh, you wanting evening board? Across the square there, see? That brick building. They doing food. Two pieces for a bowl, three for a platter, five for a tray. Ale good, too.”

“You don’t do evening board here, then? What about morning board?”

She laughed. “No one cooking in their own house, my dear, not round here. All in the fire house. And hot water, too, if you wanting a bath or laundry.”

Cal snorted in disgust, and without a word went back to his room. The rest of us crossed the square to the fire house, a big building with various hearths and ranges and spits, all smoking and sizzling and wafting meaty smells under our noses. I realised I was starving. There were tables with stools and benches scattered about, some under a covered area between two cooking hearths, most out in the open. We sat as far from the clouds of smoke as we could get, and waved down a girl passing by with jugs of ale.

“Can we get some food – platters, maybe?”

“Over there,” she said with a jerk of the head, and moved on.

“What does that mean?” I said to the others.

“I suppose we have to go and fetch the food ourselves,” one of the guards said. “If you give me some pieces, Lady, I’ll go and sort something out.”

She was gone a long time, but eventually returned with a little train of assistants bearing platters of meat, bowls of soup, baskets of fruit and bread and jugs of ale. The helpers deposited their goods, then bobbed and bowed awkwardly, like giant chickens, before dashing away with sideways glances at me.

“They’re terrified of mages,” the guard said, with a grin. “Don’t see them often out here. Whoa! Go easy with the ale, Morthan. It’s a whole bar for two jugs.”

It was a strange meal, but pleasantly festive to eat in the open, with crowds coming and going around us. Afterwards, a few questions from a family sharing our table got us directions to the training grounds.

“I suppose we’re too late for any action tonight,” one of the guards said.

They snorted. “Them! They going at it all night, in brightmoon. Clack, clack, clack they going, never stop until full dark. They there now all right.”

A very short walk brought us out by the river bank, and we no longer needed anyone to point the way to the training grounds, for the clash of swords and grunts of battling warriors drew us there. The whole edge of the river was given over to a mass of heaving bodies, spear points glinting and sweeping sword-strokes afire in the reddening sun.

There were tiered wooden seats running the length of one side, so there we sat, the sun gradually slipping down behind us, together with half the town’s population, it seemed. Tempting trays of pies or ale or cheese wrapped in bread were carried up and down the rows. I bought some pies to take back to Cal, and the guards were tempted by the cheaper ale.

As I watched what seemed like a disorganised melee, I realised it was more disciplined than that, with the various weapons each given their own areas, and the fighters would move from one to another in a systematic way. The guards soon became absorbed, discussing points of professional interest in whispers. I wasn’t very interested, but if I left they would have to accompany me, and they were enjoying it so much I chose to stay.

But then I noticed something peculiar. My skin prickled and I shivered, although it wasn’t cold.

The guards noticed at once. “Are you all right, Lady?”

“Yes. I – Look, I have to go back to the inn.”

“It’s not the baby, is it?” she said, instantly concerned.

“No, no, nothing like that. Do you mind if we go?”

“We’re at your disposal. Besides, we have all tomorrow to watch.”

They escorted me back to the inn, and I practically ran up the stairs to Cal’s room. Then I hesitated. Would he be angry with me for disturbing him? What if he was asleep? Or busy with an inn companion?

But I was breathless with excitement and he was the only person I could tell. I rapped on the door.

No answer.

I knocked again, then lifted the latch and pushed open the door.

“Cal? Are you there? It’s me.”

Unlike my room, his faced away from the river, so his single window overlooked a garish turquoise wall. The furnishings were much the same, just a wooden bed, a small table with a ewer of water and some cloths, a chair and a thin rug well chewed by moths. His travelling box sat unopened in a corner, his coat lay in a heap on the floor. He sat bolt upright on top of the bed, his back against the wall, staring into space. Apart from the coat he was fully dressed, even down to the boots.

“What do you want?” he said, not moving.

“I brought you some pies. In case you were hungry.”

“Thank you. You can leave them on the table.”

“Cal – I’ve seen something. Down at the training grounds.”

“A lot of muscular people hitting each other over the head, I suppose.” He still didn’t turn to look at me.

I smothered a laugh. “That, yes. But something else. Someone with an aura.”

“An aura? Oh! An aura! A wild mage, you mean?” He turned to me, face alight with excitement, swinging his legs onto the floor. “Show me!”

“What, now?”

“Why not? He might still be there.”

“Or she – impossible to tell under all that gear.”

He raced out of the inn and down the road, leaving me to try to keep up. His legs were longer than mine, and I was practically running behind him, turning heads and drawing ribald comments from groups sitting outside the fire house, until they noticed the mage marks and fell into silence. He took no notice. It was only when we reached the training grounds that he stopped, so abruptly that I nearly careered into him.

“Where?”

“There? Can’t you – see it?” I puffed.

“No. Maybe when we get closer.”

The sun was still above the horizon, but even so I could see the aura clearly from right across the field, a figure shimmering amidst darker, leather-clad archers. We edged round the field between the fighters and the seats until we were opposite the person with the aura.

“Is it that one? The one just aiming his bow now?”

“Yes. You can see it, then?”

“Just about. Man, I think.”

“What should we do?”

For answer, he strode off across the field, weaving between oblivious pairs of grunting swordsmen, and skirting a noisy group banging staves together. Shouts of annoyance followed him, and once two engrossed swordsmen nearly barrelled into him but he ignored them. Hands to mouth, I watched him go, immobilised by fear, heart hammering until he reached the archery group safely. A few words with the captain or commander, and the man with the aura was called across. Moments later, they were manoeuvring their way back.

“What did you say?” I hissed when they reached my side.

“Told him it was mage business.” He grinned.

I was rather shocked, but mages and nobles were alike in that respect: they took whatever they wanted, and no one dared to object. I wondered what the captain thought about it – that Cal wanted the man for some magely experiment, perhaps, or just that he fancied him as a bed partner for the night.

We found a quiet spot to sit, and Cal paid for ale and pies, even though I was still clutching the two I’d bought earlier, and we talked to the archer with the aura. He was a pleasant man, with the lank mousy hair and stubby nose typical of river people, but well-built like all the guards. His name was Lakkan, he said, and he came from Wissonlent, one of the largest river towns.

“I been a guard there for twelve years,” he said in the rolling cadence of the river margins. “I been trying for the elite program for the past five years, but my face didn’t suit, I guess.” He talked easily enough, but there was a wariness he couldn’t hide. He had no idea what we wanted with him.

“You must be good, though,” Cal said. “What’s your special talent?”

“Oh, archery, for sure. I won every contest back home for years. Not bad at the rest, too,” he added with a slight blush, “but I doing archery best. You – looking for a guard, Lord?”

“Maybe. But the talent I’m interested in is one you might not even know you have.”

Lakkan’s eyes widened, more in fear than surprise. A noble who talked so cryptically generally had nothing good in mind. His eyes flicked to me, puzzled by my silent presence, perhaps, and then back to Cal, saying nothing. Cal charged on, unnoticing or uncaring.

“Lady Mage Kyra here is a wild mage. That means she was born with a natural talent for magic. We think you have the same ability.”

The open mouth was comical. Then he laughed in Cal’s face. “I thinking you must be mistaken, Lord. I knowing nothing about magic.”

“I’m sure you don’t. But nevertheless, I believe you have some power, and I would like the chance to find out. We are bound for Ardamurkan and beyond, but then we return to Kingswell. I would like to take you with us, and find out what, if anything, you can do. I will employ you as a guard, at the usual rates, with a proper contract and a release clause in case you hate Kingswell or me or anything else about it. How does that sound?”