The Firemage's Vengeance (2 page)

In truth, Ebon was more worried about Kalem than about Albi. It seemed clear to him that Albi saw Kalem as a plaything, but Kalem did not look upon her the same way. The royal boy had had many conversations with Ebon on the subjects of love, and intimacy, and other things besides …

But he pushed these thoughts aside, for he doubted that Halab wished to speak with him on matters of love or matchmaking. Now she straightened and placed her feet on the floor, rather than draped along the seat, and patted the spot beside her. Ebon rose and went to her, just as she reached into a nearby drawer. From it she pulled a small iron trinket in the shape of an ankh. This she placed into his open palm.

“Here,” she said. “This is for you.”

Ebon was taken aback. “Thank you, dearest aunt.” He looked at it curiously. The ankh was the symbol of their house, and was featured upon their crest. Yet he wondered exactly why she would give him this, for it seemed to bear little purpose. She had to know they were allowed to keep few possessions in the Academy.

Halab must have seen some of his confusion in his eyes, for she smiled and took it from him. “It is not only a trinket. Watch.” She pressed the handle into the spars, and with a small
skrrtch,
sparks sprang out from the tip.

“A firestriker,” said Ebon. He took it back, a bit more eagerly. “That is most cleverly made.”

“Specially crafted when I was a child,” she said. “It is of Calentin make. Among craftsmen, their artisans have no equal.”

“Thank you,” he said, and this time he meant it. “I will keep it with me always.”

“That would please me,” she said. Then she sighed and took his hands in hers. “This brings me to the next matter. You must know by now that your father has no intention of letting you keep your inheritance. That will pass to Albi.”

Ebon stared at his lap. “She let something of that slip,” he muttered.

“And I am sure you at least half-guessed it before. You have always been a wise boy. That means you will never get your mark.”

The mark of their house was scarified on the skin of those who entered the family’s service, on the wrist of the right arm. Father had his, and Ebon’s brother Momen had had one as well. Ebon had long anticipated receiving his own mark, though the prospect lost some of its luster the older he grew.

But he forced a smile and looked at her. “Well, that is no great loss. I will be a wizard, after all. How many of our kin can say the same?”

Halab gave him a sad smile. “I want you to know,” she said softly, “that if any but a parent could grant the mark, I would give it to you myself. And for those who obey me, this firestriker will serve just as well as a symbol upon your skin. You will never want for help from my house while you bear it.”

His eyes stung. “Thank you, Halab. I am an even poorer guest now, for I have no gift in return.”

“It is the joy of the old to provide for the young.” She leaned back and took her wine goblet again. “Until very recently, I half thought I should give you a dagger. The Academy has not been a place free from peril, though it seems that danger has now passed.”

Ebon’s mood fell, for her words drew his thoughts back to Erin and Dasko. “I suppose it no longer plagues me, nor my friends,” he said carefully. “But that does not mean there is no danger at all.”

“You speak of the Dean’s son, yes? Erin of the family Forredar, is it not?”

“Yes. The rogue student, Isra—she took him, and no one knows where.”

“Odd that she should escape both the High King’s guards and the constables. I have heard even the Mystics lend their eyes to the search.”

Ebon stared at his feet, fearful she would see the torment within him if he looked at her. “They say his father, Xain—the Academy’s Dean—is favored by the High King. I met him once. The boy, Erin, I mean. Briefly, only, yet I would not see him come to harm.” He heard again Erin’s cries for help as the boy was pulled into the streets. Unconsciously, his lips twisted in imitation of Isra’s snarl.

“Xain Forredar has always been … difficult,” said Halab. There was no mistaking the irritation in her voice. “To our family, I mean. Cyrus in particular earned his ire, as did your uncle Matami.”

At that, the room fell to swift silence. Ebon’s gaze darted about, seeking somewhere to rest. His own wine goblet sat unattended, and he took it to refill, all the while avoiding Halab’s watchful attention.

The last time Ebon had seen his uncle, it had been when Mako killed him slow in the sewers beneath the city. Ebon still remembered the empty gap where Matami’s eye had been, the bloodied stumps of his fingers …

He drank deep from his goblet and filled it once more. When at last he looked to Halab, her face was stony. But her eyes glinted with tears expertly held back. Mako had said that Halab would know, or guess, at what happened to Matami. But he had said also that she would not mention it.

Sometimes it was easier that way. That the truth be known, but unspoken.

Halab composed herself and rose from her couch. She went to Ebon with a smile that hardly seemed forced, and put her hands upon his shoulders.

“I want you to know, Ebon, that you are the closest thing to my own son, and I could want for nothing more. The pain and danger you have suffered of late weigh upon me, and I am glad such suffering has passed you by. If ever you need something from me—anything at all—you have only to ask.”

Ebon’s throat seized up. He had never heard such soft words from his own parents. Forgetting his manners, he seized Halab in a tight hug. “How could I ask anything of you, when already you have been my one bright light in dark times?”

She let him hold her for a moment, and then gently urged him away. “Go now, dearest nephew. I must leave, so rejoin your friends and your sister. The shadow has passed—enjoy the daylight while it remains.”

He smiled in answer, and held it until she left the room. Then his face fell, and he put a hand to his forehead, remembering Matami’s empty eye socket.

two

THE GARDEN WAS LIKE A stage play, for it was hushed and fresh, the white snow forming a platform waiting for its actors to arrive. The quiet of winter’s air was like the audience standing in the pit below, breath held eagerly in anticipation, hearts thrumming with promise. Ebon stepped into it, and for a moment he paused there in the door. He closed his eyes, breathing deep to take in the smell.

Then, far off, he heard Albi’s bright laugh. He opened his eyes with a sigh and set off down the path to find her.

She and Kalem and Theren were among the hedges, walking aimlessly along winding paths. He could see from their footprints that they had walked in many circles already. Albi still held tight to Kalem’s arm, and Kalem was pressed against her side—though he flushed and parted from her slightly when he saw Ebon. Behind them, Theren had a long-suffering look on her face, and her relief at Ebon’s arrival was obvious.

“You and Halab must have shared heartfelt words,” said Albi, smiling at him. “I can see your eyes clouded in thought.”

“We did,” Ebon said quietly. “And she gave me this.” From his pocket he withdrew the firestriker and held it up.

Albi tilted her head. “Why … why, that was Uncle Matami’s. I saw him use it on the road we took here from Idris. Sometimes he would strike it absentmindedly as we drove, his thoughts wandering elsewhere, and his hands seeking something to do.”

That put a sick feeling in the pit of Ebon’s stomach. He looked at the firestriker anew. It had to be a message. Had Halab simply meant to tell Ebon that she knew of Matami’s death? Or was it a token of forgiveness, absolving him of blame for his part in the murder?

He had been silent too long, and they were staring at him. “What have the three of you been speaking of?”

“I was telling Kalem of the caravan I will soon lead,” said Albi. “I will take the wagons back home to Idris—though not directly, for that would bring us far too close to Dulmun, and there is a war on, after all. First we will sail to Selvan, there to take the King’s road until it reaches the Dragon’s Tooth river. We will sail upon those waters until they reach the king’s road again, and then drive east until we are home. I am most excited about the whole thing.”

But Ebon was gaping at her. “You will lead the caravan? But … but your age.”

He could almost see her hackles rise. She released Kalem’s arm to put her hands on her hips, and her plump, rosy cheeks grew redder for a moment. “You think me a child? I am fourteen, Ebon—very nearly a woman grown. Our father was my age when he led his first caravan, and Halab was even younger.”

Theren smirked as she looked at him over Albi’s head. Kalem’s eyes were wide, and he looked as though he would rather be elsewhere. “That—that is—I meant no offense,” stammered Ebon. “I was only surprised, that is all.”

A thought tickled his mind: Albi would lead this caravan, not because that was what the family wished, but because Matami was no longer there to do it himself.

She lifted her chin haughtily, but some of the spark of anger died in her eyes. “Well. I suppose surprise is warranted. I half died myself, when Halab told me. But the more I have thought upon it, the more excited I have become.”

“Will you not grow bored?” he said, smiling to soften the words.

Albi stuck her tongue out at him. “I will have plenty and more to do. We are not only driving the carts. We will be trading wherever we stop. That, of course, will be managed by others—I will have some oversight, but this trip is as much for me to learn as anything else. Come now, though. I am nearly frozen through. Let us go inside, and I will tell you more.”

They followed her back to the manor, where they tramped the snow off their boots and removed them. She then led them upstairs to a sitting room, smaller than the one where they often met with Halab. A servant at the door stepped forwards, but Theren spoke before he could even open his mouth.

“Yes, wine, please. Something fine.” She blinked, and looked at Ebon as if it were an afterthought. “That is, if you do not mind. I never learned my noble graces.”

“Not at all,” said Ebon. With all of the news Albi had told them, he thought he could rather use a drink.

As they waited for the wine, Albi took a table and put it in the center of the couches. Then she leaned over, putting objects and trinkets at various places, naming them for the cities she would visit upon her route. And Ebon noticed that whenever she leaned forwards or back, she brushed against Kalem’s arm.

“Here is Garsec, where we will land first. Then we follow the road west, until it turns south and reaches Cabrus. We will stay there a little while; there is no better place to find steel in all of Selvan. Then it is a journey of many days to Redbrook, with little on the road to entertain, and that sits upon the Dragon’s Tail. In each city, and perhaps some of the towns, we will stay a short while in order to trade some goods for others, or for coin. And, of course, to find new guards, if we should need them.”

The wine came, and Theren drained her cup at once before handing it back to the servant. The man refilled it, and then left the bottle for them. “Why should you need to find new guards?” said Theren.

“Why, if anyone should die, of course,” said Albi simply. “A caravan should always travel with at least half again as many wagoners and guards as it needs. The roads are not safe in these days of war, and if some of our men should be waylaid, or shit themselves to death from foreign water, who will keep our goods moving safely?”

Ebon balked, and Kalem spit up the little sip of wine he had just taken. To hear Albi speak so plainly of men’s deaths … it made Ebon feel suddenly lightheaded, as though he had found himself in a dream. Who was this young woman who sat before him? Where was young Albi whose eyes would shine when he told her his dreams of the Academy? It seemed impossible she had changed so much in the short time he had been here upon the Seat. Yet the only other explanation was that she had ceased to be a little girl some time ago.

Theren laughed at her frank words, while Kalem turned red. Albi saw his reaction and giggled, putting a hand on his arm. “Do I shock you, dear Kalem? You must understand, I spent two months on wagons traveling here from Idris, and wagoners have bawdy tongues. I would guess I could teach you a thing or two of language.” Then her eyes brightened, and she gently slapped his arm. “Kalem, you must make me a promise. Once you have finished your studies in the Academy, you must let me take you upon a trip. Some caravan on a long route across the nine lands. Perhaps not even to Idris. I think we might have more fun other places.”

Her eyes flashed, while Kalem’s grew wide and starry. But Ebon scowled in disgust. Albi’s relentless flirting seemed harmless enough, most of the time, but she never left well enough alone.

Ebon stood quickly. “We should leave.”

Albi frowned at him. “What? But the day is young.”

“It was Halab’s invitation that brought us here in the first place, yet she is gone, and we continue to take her hospitality. Besides, I have an appointment at the Academy.” And that, in fact, was true. Astrea waited for him there, the way she did every day, their visits born half from Ebon’s desire to help and half from his own guilt.

“Then why do you not go yourself, and leave your friends here?” said Albi.

Kalem looked like he might agree, but Ebon took him by the arm and lifted him up at once. “I am not the only one with duties at the citadel,” he said, and fixed Theren with a meaningful look.

Her eyes darkened, and she rose as well. “You are right. I had hoped you would accompany me in my chores this evening, Kalem.”

Kalem’s mouth turned in a frown, and he lowered his eyes. In the manor, it was easy to forget about Erin, and Isra, and Dasko, but now Ebon had brought memory back to the fore. “Of course,” he said quietly. “It was my pleasure to see you again, Lady Drayden.”

“Albi, I beg of you. Lady Drayden sounds ever too formal for such a dear heart as yourself.” She held his hand tightly in hers, until at last he kissed her fingers. Ebon gave her a brusque hug, and Theren clasped her wrists, before he could finally usher his friends out the door and back into the snowy streets.