The Magician's Apprentice (66 page)

Tavara smiled. “Perhaps eventually. We do expect that, if you join us, you will work for us. Although you’ll still have the right to refuse a task, if it is objectionable to you.”

“If I’m too squeamish to commit murder, for instance.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s a relief. What else?”

“We are all equal when we are together. Slave, free woman, magician.”

Stara let out a sigh. “Oh, what a relief!”

The woman looked at her oddly. “You may not find this as easy as you think.”

“I spent most of my life in Elyne,” Stara retorted. “You have no idea how hard it has been to get used to having slaves. So when are you going to rise up and end it?”

The woman’s eyebrows rose and she regarded Stara thoughtfully. “It wasn’t among our plans,” she admitted. “All our energies go towards trying to save women’s lives. Your brother’s wife lives in a place outside the city we call the sanctuary. Removing women from their homes is dangerous, but that is not the end of it. We have to transport them there, at the risk of exposing both the sanctuary and ourselves. Keeping the sanctuary stocked with food is difficult. We have plenty of money, but must ensure no transaction is traceable to us. Only a few women can know the location, and those who stay there cannot leave, for if their minds were read our work would be discovered.”

Tavara looked at the other wives. “This is why we prefer not to take women from their homes. We try to make their lives better by other means. Sometimes by manipulating politics. The right rumour in the right ears can kill the emperor, as they say. Sometimes we use trade to change a family’s fortunes. Sometimes, as I mentioned earlier, we are willing to go further: to make someone sick, or even have them killed.” Tavara’s gaze shifted back to Stara. “Knowing this, would you still be willing to join us?”

Stara nodded. “Oh, definitely. But are you sure you want to recruit me? What if my father visits, and reads my mind again? What if Kachiro decides to?”

Tavara smiled and reached into the tunic-like dress she wore. From some secret place within she drew out something that shone silver and green. She took Stara’s hand and dropped the object into her palm.

It was an earring. Silver threads encircled a clear, vibrantly green stone. A thicker circle of wire protruded from the back, turning back on itself to fix securely into the setting again.

“It is a storestone. We buy these from the Duna tribes in the north. They make several types for different purposes, but will only sell us this kind. It protects the wearer from mind-reading – and not just by blocking all thoughts. Once you learn the trick of it, you can feed whoever is reading your mind the sorts of thoughts he is expecting, while still hiding what you don’t want him to see.”

Stara stared at the gemstone in amazement. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before. Not here or in Elyne.”

“No. Magicians do buy stones from the Duna tribes, but they don’t believe they have magical properties. So the tribes only sell them the ones too flawed to be useful. But they sell these to us, the Traitors.”

Stara looked up. “The Traitors? You call yourselves the Traitors?”

Tavara nodded and looked away. “Yes. Twenty years ago the previous emperor’s daughter was raped by one of his allies. She spoke openly of the crime, calling for him to be punished. But the emperor decided that the support of his ally was more important, and he had plenty of daughters. He called her a traitor and had her killed.” Tavara met Stara’s eyes again. “She was one of the first free women to help us. Through her efforts many women were saved. But we failed to save her. So we call ourselves the Traitors in her memory.”

“Even an emperor’s daughter . . .” Stara shook her head, then straightened. “I want to help, but what can I do?”

Tavara smiled. “For a start, there is a simple vow, and we put this earring in for you.”

Stara looked down at the earring and grimaced. “I’ve never liked the idea of piercing my ears, or anything else for that matter. Won’t my husband be suspicious if he sees this?”

“No. Free Sachakan women love jewellery and give it to each other all the time. It will hurt, but it will be over in a moment.” Tavara plucked the earring from Stara’s hand. “Who has the salve?”

From somewhere Chiara produced a small jar. Stara felt her stomach sink as Tavara took hold of her ear lobe. She stiffened, worried what would happen if she moved while the pin went through.

“Repeat after me,” Tavara said. “I vow that I will never willingly reveal the existence of the Traitors, their pledge and plans.”

Stara repeated the words, wincing in anticipation.

“And to help all women, whether slave or free.”

She knew she was speaking faster and at a higher pitch than normal, her heart beating fast in dread.
I’m not going to yell
, she told herself, biting her lip.

“And do what I can to save them from the tyranny of men.”

As she uttered the word “men’, Stara felt a flare of pain in her ear lobe and let out a stifled squeak. Then her entire ear went hot. Chiara and Tavara were fussing with the earring. Something cool spread over her ear lobe. Tavara stepped back.

“Here.” Chiara pressed the jar into Stara’s hand. “Put this on twice a day until it heals. But remember, the gem has to touch your skin to work and the salve can act as a barrier.”

Tavara was smiling. “Well done, Stara. You’re one of us now. Welcome to the Traitors.”

At that Stara found herself the object of many welcoming hugs, from both wives and slaves. And none quite so tight as that from Vora.

“Well done,” the slave murmured.

“Hmph,” Stara replied. “You could have warned me about the piercing part.”

“And miss the look on your face?” The old woman grinned. “Never.”

Though it was cooler in the mountains, it was always a relief when the blinding summer sun eased into golden evening light. Dakon looked ahead and was unable to suppress a twinge of anxiety. Scouts had reported that the road leading up to the pass was clear. No Sachakans, magicians or otherwise, lingered there.

It still felt unwise to camp there overnight, but that was the king’s intention. Dakon suspected most of the magicians needed to stop at the border in order to feel sure and satisfied that they’d finally driven the last of the invaders out of Kyralia.

Whether they truly had, nobody could say with complete confidence. For several weeks the Kyralian army, with the assistance of the Elynes, had split up in order to pursue the survivors of Takado’s force. A handful had been found and killed. None had surrendered, though Dakon had doubts about the last one his group had tracked down. The man had emerged on his own, hands waving frantically, before being struck down. Dakon had resisted asking if the others also wondered whether the man had been trying to give himself up. He did not want to cause them to doubt themselves unnecessarily. Especially not Narvelan, who had suffered enough doubt in himself after the first time he’d killed.

A small number of Sachakans had survived by keeping far enough ahead of their pursuers to reach the northern pass and escape into Sachaka. Dakon knew Takado was among them.

As the different groups of Kyralian magicians swept across the country they eventually joined together in the north, on the road to the pass. Timing their simultaneous arrival had been easy with the use of the blood gems.

Only two magicians had been taught the trick of making the gems. Sabin was one, Innali the other. Sabin had made a blood gem ring for the leaders of every group that left in search of the surviving invaders. Innali was their link to Imardin.

Narvelan, as the leader of the group Dakon had been a part of, had worn one of Sabin’s blood gem rings. He had not worn it constantly, as the rings communicated a continual flow of the wearer’s thoughts and if too many rings were worn at once it was overwhelming to the maker. Dakon was not sure he’d have liked giving anyone constant access to his mind. Not even Sabin.

He sighed and looked ahead. The road had been climbing the side of a steep slope, cut into the rock by someone long forgotten – perhaps back when Sachaka had ruled Kyralia, perhaps even earlier, when the two countries had begun trading. It now curved to the right and wound through a near-level ravine. The road was relatively clear of stones and rock, swept clean by hundreds of years of traffic. But as Dakon rode round a fold in the wall he could see that the king and magicians ahead of him had stopped. Beyond them was a pile of rocks several times the height of a man.

“Takado’s parting gift,” Jayan said, moving up beside him. Scouts carrying blood gem rings had warned Sabin of the obstruction. Dakon looked up at the rock walls stretching above them. He could see where the rock had been blasted.

“Hopefully such a waste of power means he is not waiting in ambush for us.”

“Hopefully,” Jayan agreed.

Dakon glanced at Tessia, who was gazing up at the walls. Abruptly a memory rose of the moment Jayan had caught up with them, some weeks back. He’d taken a side trip to the abandoned servants’ camp, now being scavenged by people returning to the country, and found her father’s bag dumped in a pile of rubbish with most of the contents missing. As he’d handed it to her she’d burst into tears, hugging the bag to herself and apologising for her outburst at the same time. Jayan had looked embarrassed and unable to think of anything to say, yet afterwards he had seemed very pleased with himself.

The bag was now restocked with a new burner and surgery tools, and cures made by Tessia or donated by village healers.

As they reached the magicians standing before the rocks, Sabin looked up at them.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” he said. “And decide what to do next.”

Having dismounted, Dakon sat on one of the boulders and watched as the rest of the army arrived. A few magicians decided to sweep the area clear of rocks and stones from the fall. As soon as the servants reached the pass they set to work. Horses were tended to. The ground was too solid for tent hooks, so it was decided that everyone would have to sleep in the open and hope it didn’t rain. Cooking smells began to waft about and made Dakon’s stomach rumble.

As what little sunlight made its way into the ravine began to dwindle, the king, his advisers and the foreign magicians moved boulders into a circle and sat down. The rest of the magicians followed suit, arranging themselves outside the circle.

Lord Hakkin looked up at the rocks. “Since we got here and I saw this, I can’t help wondering if we’d be better off adding to it rather than clearing it.”

“Block the pass?” Lord Perkin asked.

Hakkin nodded. “It wouldn’t prevent them coming back if they were determined enough. But it would slow them down.”

“It is the main trade route, though,” Perkin reminded him.

“Who’s going to trade with them now?” Narvelan asked, narrowing his eyes and looking around the circle.

“An end to trade would harm us as much as them,” the king pointed out. “Perhaps harm us more. They have better access to other lands.”

“I have to agree with you, your majesty,” Dem Ayend said. “When news came that Sachaka had invaded Kyralia some of my people took it upon themselves to murder the Sachakan traders based in Elyne. We will come to regret that, though I’m sure trade links will be re-established in time.”

“Perhaps instead we should build a fort here,” Lord Bolvin suggested. “Control who passes into Kyralia. It would have the same advantage of slowing an invasion, and we would know it is happening. Instantly, if we post a magician here.”

“We could charge Sachakan traders a fee, as well,” Hakkin added. “It might go some way towards helping our people recover.”

Heads were nodding, Dakon saw.
The fee could never be high enough
, he thought.
It can’t be set so high that it discourages trade. And it would go straight into some magician’s coffer, most likely, not into the common people’s hands.

“How likely is it that we will be invaded again?” Lord Perkin asked, looking around.

Nobody answered for a long moment.

“That depends on two things,” Sabin said. “The desire to, and the ability to. Will they desire to? Perhaps we have frightened them into leaving us alone. Or maybe, by killing so many members of their most powerful families, we have set a desire for revenge blazing that could lead to endless conflict.”

“They invaded us,” Narvelan growled.

“True. But Sachakans are nothing less than utterly convinced of their superiority over other races. We have dared to defeat them. They won’t like it.”

“How many Sachakan magicians are left?” Bolvin asked.

“I have kept count of the fatalities as best I could,” Sabin said. “I estimate at least ninety Sachakans have died in this invasion.”

“There were over two hundred in Sachaka, according to my spies,” the king said.

“So over a hundred remain,” Hakkin said. “We number no more than eighty.”

“Some of their magicians are too young or too old to fight effectively,” the king added.

“The odds don’t sound good, even so,” Perkin said.

“I think we’ve learned the hard way that it is not the number of magicians that matters, but their strength,” Narvelan said.

“And their skills and knowledge,” Dakon added.

“It is not only their strength to begin with, though that is important, but their
access
to strength later,” Sabin said. “They can only bring so many slaves into Kyralia. We have the support of most of our population.”

“I think they’ve learned their lesson,” Hakkin said.

“But how long before they forget it?” Narvelan asked. “Will our children fight and die in another war? Or our grandchildren?”

“Can we prevent its ever happening again?” Sabin asked. He shook his head. “Of course we can’t.”

“Or can we?” Narvelan said. All turned to look at him, many frowning. His eyes were dark as he smiled back at them. “They wouldn’t invade us if we ruled them.”

That sent a ripple of murmuring out from the circle. Dakon saw eyes widen at the possibility, and heads shake.

“Invade Sachaka?” Hakkin scowled. “Even if we had a chance of success, we’ve just fought a war. Do we have the energy for another?”