by James Erich
“Because the proper word is ‘foraging’.”
Koreh gave a snort of contempt and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re not just highborn, are you? You’re royalty.”
Sael wasn’t certain how the young man could tell anything about his lineage from the way he spoke, but it was true that he was better educated than most of the sycophants in the royal court. Perhaps that was obvious, even to a peasant. Sael thought about fabricating something for the sake of caution, but the men hunting him already knew who his relatives were. What harm could there be in telling Koreh? “I am Sael dönz Menaük. My father is the Vek of Worlen. My older brother is the Dekan of Harleh and will one day inherit the veikit, so I was sent off to study in the capital. It was more interesting than joining the clergy, at any rate.”
He laughed and was pleased to see Koreh smile. The young man seemed angry with him more often than not.
“But what about you?” Sael asked. “How did you come to learn magic? You can’t have had any formal training.” He didn’t need to point out that no peasant would ever be trained in the royal academies. They both knew that.
Koreh glanced up, and Sael reminded him, “It’s nighttime and the Eye of Druma is closed. Besides, it won’t rise until dawn, or nearly.”
Koreh frowned at him. “I’m well aware of when the Eyes rise and set, thank you.”
“Tell me, please. You’ve hinted that your magic somehow comes from the Towe—”
“Don’t call them that!” Koreh snapped.
Sael was taken aback. “What do you mean? That’s what they’re called.”
“They call themselves ‘Taaweh’,” Koreh replied, drawing the middle of the name out in a way that sounded odd to Sael’s hearing. “It means ‘guardians’. The Stronni word for them is meant as an insult.”
Sael didn’t feel like arguing about it. “Fine. The point is, they were supposed to have disappeared a thousand years ago.”
KOREH’S first impulse was to keep silent. But as he often did, he could hear the stones whispering faintly in the back of his mind. He couldn’t understand the words, exactly, but he could sense the meaning. They were telling him this young nobleman was somehow an ally, despite appearances.
“Living on the city streets as an orphan,” Koreh said at last, “is… rough. Not just because there’s no food or warm shelter. To the emperor’s men, you’re sport. If you’re lucky, they’ll just beat you now and then. If you’re not lucky….”
He saw Sael’s green eyes widen and decided the noble had lived too sheltered a life to hear all the details about the sexually humiliating “games” some of these vile men enjoyed playing with the countless orphans who’d been forced into the streets on the outskirts of the city after the plague had taken their families.
“Anyway,” he continued, “most people in the city are terrified of what might live beyond the city gates. I wasn’t. I knew it couldn’t be worse than what was inside. So I left.
“The summer was easy enough. I didn’t know how to hunt, but there were plenty of plants I could eat, so I learned how to—” Koreh grinned at Sael. “—forage?”
Sael smiled. “That’s the word.”
“But then winter came. The first snowfall was terrible. There had hardly been anything to eat for weeks, and I thought I was going to freeze to death. I started to think about going back to the city.”
He took a small stick and used it to poke around in the fire pit. They’d poured water on the fire immediately after cooking the soup to minimize the danger of the smoke being seen, but some of the coals were still warm. “Then one day I saw blood in the snow.”
“Blood?”
Koreh nodded. “And tracks. A deer had been wounded by a hunter’s arrow. It had escaped the hunter, but it was dying. I could see several places in the snow where it had collapsed and struggled back to its feet. I thought I’d been saved. I would come across it soon, dead or dying. Then at least I’d have food, and maybe I could figure out how to skin it for a cloak.
“I tracked it to one of these stone circles. I’d heard the same stories everyone has—how the circles are places of evil magic; how men sometimes go insane when they enter them. But I was starving. So I followed the tracks, and there in the center of the circle was the deer, lying on its side.”
Koreh remembered the deer vividly. The arrow had fallen out, but the wound was severe. As the boy approached, he was puzzled by the lack of fear the animal showed. Koreh was able to kneel beside it and even reach out a hand to stroke its fur without it so much as flinching. But there was something even stranger. There was no snow in the center of the stone circle—just grass. And the air felt warmer. Koreh found himself soothed by the warmth, and his hunger seemed to subside. He was no longer interested in harming the deer. He lay down on the grass beside it and stayed there for a long time, stroking its fur gently, until he fell asleep.
He dreamt of a beautiful city with white stone spires that seemed to grow from the earth itself. Among the spires, streams of crystal-clear water flowed and trees and flowering plants grew as if part of the city plan. The people in the city were beautiful in a way no man or woman could ever be. They were once the guardians of these lands, but somehow Koreh sensed the city had long ago been destroyed.
The deer was gone when he woke, and he could find no trace of it. Even the tracks and the blood in the snow had vanished, as if they had never been there at all. Perhaps Koreh should have been frightened. His mother had told him spirits lived among the ruins, and perhaps that was true. But Koreh felt no fear and the dream had left him feeling oddly comforted.
Over the next few days, he stayed among the stones, sleeping on the soft grass at intervals, dreaming of the ancient city and its people. He came to understand that these circles had been created as way stations; safe harbors for travelers. Even animals seemed to sense they were sanctuaries, and it seemed to Koreh the magic that permeated the stones could speed healing.
Stranger still was the fact that his strength had returned and he felt sated, though he was not eating. He wondered at times if he might die under this strange glamour, but he wasn’t sure if he cared.
Koreh looked up and realized he’d been describing all this out loud to Sael. The young man was watching him intently.
“How did you escape?” Sael asked.
Koreh snorted. “I didn’t escape. After several days, the dreams stopped, so I left. That was when I discovered that the dreams had changed me.”
“Changed you?”
“I knew things I’d never known before. I would look at a patch of snow and somehow know that there were plants underneath it, frozen but still edible. Or I would look at a tree and know that if I peeled off a piece of bark, I could eat the soft layer underneath.”
“And that kept you alive?”
“Partly,” Koreh replied. “It was later, when I slept in the ruins again, that I learned how to track rabbits and deer and other animals I could eat.” He did not mention the dreams had also taught him how to kill these animals, quickly and as painlessly as possible. “At times I seemed to sense that an animal was nearby, though I knew I hadn’t actually seen or heard it.”
“Everything I’ve ever read or been told about… the Taaweh,” Sael said, “tells me that they were evil.”
Koreh scoffed at him. “They’re not evil. They’re good and beautiful. I’ve seen them.”
“In dreams.”
“They aren’t evil,” Koreh insisted. “They’re the enemies of your gods, so of course everything you’ve been told about them is bad.”
Sael seemed to be brought up short by that argument. But after a moment, he said, “It hardly matters. They were killed off a thousand years ago.”
“Then how do you explain the dreams?” Koreh was finding it difficult to contain his frustration. How could Sael be so stupid? “How do you explain that I’ve been learning their spells?”
Sael shook his head. “It must be leftover magic,” he insisted. “I’ve he
ard that some places are permeated by it. There are ponds, valleys—even rocks—where everything is twisted by the dark magic cast in the ancient battles. These stones—”
But Koreh had had enough. He stood and walked away without comment, settling himself on the grass to sleep, his back turned toward Sael. The gesture was unmistakable, and Sael fell silent.
Chapter 5
KING CAEDNU extended a hand to summon his sword, calculating whether he’d be able to strike at the intruder before she cast a spell at him. But his queen, Imen, was cleverer than he.
She stepped forward and stayed his hand with a gentle touch.
“This is pointless,” Imen said, calmly. “We have seen that we cannot strike her down. Let us, instead, ask her why she has come and offer her the hospitality of our hall.”
The Iinu Shavi stepped closer and began, “Your people came to this land as invaders, immediately seeking to destroy any who might oppose your occupation. For two thousand years, we have resisted you, though we are not warriors. The war has decimated our forests and laid waste to our plains. Yet you have been unable to destroy us, and the war continues.
“For the sake of our world, I have come to sue for peace—to offer a truce.”
Imen smiled and stepped past her husband. “Truly, there is much wisdom in your words. We, too, have grown weary of this never-ending battle.”
She gestured to her servants, who were cowering in the corners of the hall. “Bring drink and a feast worthy of our guest! We must stop these foolish attempts to turn her away and welcome her.”
As she turned, her husband said to her, under his breath, “Do not trust her. The Taaweh are skilled in magic and deception.”
“Be silent, my king. Her desire for a truce can only mean one thing—that the long war has weakened her people. I have a plan.”
At this, Imen summoned a servant girl to her. When the girl drew near, the queen bent and whispered into her ear.
THE young men woke the next morning to find Geilin sitting up, his blanket pulled tight against the chill morning air and the cowl of his ragged wool cloak drawn up to keep his bare head warm. The wizard glanced over at Sael when he noticed the apprentice stirring and smiled. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Master,” Sael responded. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Much better, I should say.”
“Shall I make you some tea?”
“After you perform Penent. I’m afraid I’m not I’m physically up to it this morning. I don’t suppose there’s any soup left?” the old wizard asked hopefully, scratching with one hand at his short, neatly trimmed gray beard.
There wasn’t, but Koreh was willing to go hunting again. He assured them he wouldn’t be gone long and then disappeared into the woods, while Sael moved away from the circle for his morning ritual. Geilin watched him curiously but chose not to inquire why Sael had wandered so far away to do it.
A short time later, Sael returned to build a fire and heat water for tea.
Geilin said to him, “Tell me who our friend is.”
Sael recounted as much of his dealings with Koreh as he could without actually violating the promise he’d made. It meant underplaying how serious Geilin’s wounds had been and omitting the fact that magic other than Thuna’s healing draughts had been used upon him. Sael did intend to reveal this, eventually, but not until they’d parted ways with Koreh.
Geilin listened thoughtfully and then sighed. “Poor Thuna. May she find honor in the Great Hall. And may our loyal guards fight valiantly in the Eternal War.”
They were both silent for a long moment before Geilin asked, “Do you think Koreh can be trusted?”
“I think so, Master. I’m certain he isn’t interested in robbing us, or killing us, at any rate.”
Geilin chuckled. “Not precisely a recommendation. But I suppose it will have to do. We must be cautious, but we cannot afford to turn away honest help. Perhaps he could be persuaded to join us for a time on our journey?”
Sael moved close to the fire, wrapped his cloak around his hand, and lifted the pan of water so he could prepare the tea. “Perhaps. I’ve been thinking about asking him to escort us to Denök.”
“We would do better to convince him to accompany us to Mat’zovya. I’m sure your father could arrange a generous payment for him, once we reach there.”
The old man stood, somewhat awkwardly, refusing any assistance from Sael. “I’m a little shaky, but I think I’m able to walk. We really cannot afford to delay any longer.”
“Your burns are still healing,” Sael pointed out.
“So they are. But the emperor must know by now that his assassins failed. That puts us in grave danger.”
“We’ve been here for over a day,” Sael said. “The emperor’s ömem have to know where we are by now.”
“If they tell him.” The emperor’s relationship with the ömem was strained, to say the least, though that could not be counted upon. “Besides, these stone circles somehow obscure their Sight, or so I’ve been told.”
Sael hadn’t been aware of that. Still, he felt he had to point out that he and Koreh had left the circle several times. But his master shrugged this off. “The cloud cover may have been enough to hide you. There’s nothing we can do about it now, in any event.”
Geilin attempted to take the hot wooden cup Sael offered him, but the burns on his hands made it unbearable to hold. Sael found a piece of cloth from the supplies they’d salvaged and wrapped the cup before handing it to him again.
“Do you think the emperor really intended to kill us?” Sael asked. “Or did he intend to drag us back to the castle as prisoners?”
“No doubt he wanted you back at the castle, under lock and key. But I’m of little value as a hostage and a potential danger….”
He didn’t need to finish the thought. Geilin hadn’t been particularly well-favored in the royal court. The emperor’s vönan-makek had always viewed him as a rival, ever since Geilin had arrived with Sael in the capital five years previously. The wizard’s death would be… convenient.
“Do you know why your brother sent for us?” Geilin asked, changing the subject.
“Because he needs you there, now that Tavak has gone on to the Great Hall?” Tavak had been the chief mage of Harleh until his passing a month ago.
Geilin snorted. “I’m sure there are other competent vönan in Harleh who can step into his position. No, I believe Seffni was acting on behalf of your father. With the tension between the emperor and the vek increasing, your father has decided to remove you from the royal court—to avoid the possibility of you being held as a hostage. Which may also mean he’s planning to make a move, at long last.”
“Certainly Father would never declare war on the emperor!” It was unthinkable, no matter how tense things had become between the emperor and his regent in the eastern half of the kingdom.
But if Sael had hoped for reassurance, Geilin offered none. “He may believe he has enough allies among the other nobles to make a strike against the emperor feasible.”
“But that’s treason!”
“If the vek loses. Otherwise, it’s revolution.”
Sael was too overwhelmed to respond.
“Unfortunately,” Geilin went on, “your brother’s attempt to smuggle you out of the city was discovered. Now I fear all of the vek’s plans may be in jeopardy.”
The old man glanced at the forest and added, “That’s all I dare say, for now. Even if our new friend can be trusted, we don’t know yet if more men are following.”
But there was one more thing Sael had to know. The vek might be committing treason, and dragging his sons and Geilin into it with him. For that matter, if it came to war, the entire kingdom would be involved. “Is he in the right on this, Master Geilin? My father?”
Geilin took a long, thoughtful sip of his tea. “At this point, it hardly matters. We’ve chosen sides, whether we intended to or not.”
KOREH could not be persuaded to escort them
as far as Mat’zovya for any amount of money. “What would I do with money?” the boy asked, contemptuously, “I never go anywhere near the market these days.”
He didn’t mention what they all knew—the journey was extremely treacherous, even without the possibility of more assassins on their trail. Geilin’s suggestion of other forms of payment, such as food or blankets, failed to sway him.
But Koreh had to admit, at least to himself, that he wasn’t exactly anxious to be alone again. It had been a very long time since he’d had anyone to talk to. As irritating as Sael could be, for the most part, Koreh had been enjoying his company. He paused a moment, and then added, “I’ll go with you to Denök. That’s less than a day’s journey from here and no great hardship.”
Sael and Geilin exchanged looks, obviously unhappy about the outcome of the discussion, but Geilin replied tactfully, “That would be most welcome, Koreh.”
After a breakfast of two of the small speckled game birds called kikid, which Koreh had found nesting in the grass by the river, they set out along the Empire Road. The road was an ancient strip of cobblestones that wound its way through overgrown fields, around hillocks and small copses of birch. At one time, it had connected the eastern and western halves of the empire, though much of it was in disrepair now, the cobblestones buried under centuries of earth and vegetation or stolen by villagers for other uses and many of the old stone bridges had long since collapsed.
Despite Geilin’s concerns about being followed, Koreh insisted on singing as they walked. He had a rather nice singing voice, at least in his opinion. He chose local folk melodies, most of which Sael seemed to have never heard. Some of them were bawdy enough to make the apprentice blush, which Koreh found immensely amusing. Occasionally he caught Geilin smiling as well, though he couldn’t tell if the old man was amused by the lyrics or by Sael’s discomfort.
Fortunately the sky was overcast, which at least shielded them from the watchful eyes of the ömem.
Denök—rabbit warren—wasn’t nearly as quaint and charming as its name might imply. In fact, it was positively dreary. Just as Koreh had warned his companions, the town consisted of a cluster of a few sad little one- or two-room houses, a mill, and a sagging inn. The inn also served as a town hall and general store and had a small stable attached to one side.
