Ranenok’s nod gave the impression that he did not fully believe her. “Well then, thank you for not withholding your permission.”
Tevi clenched her jaw. She respected Ranenok as much as she did anyone in Tirakhalod, and she knew that he valued her as an officer. Yet he still clearly viewed her as Jemeryl’s possession.
“Tevi doesn’t need—”
“I’m a free citizen of the Protectorate, and a member of the Guild of Mercenary Warriors. Only my guild masters could refuse me permission to take any given military employment. And Jemeryl isn’t a guild master.”
Tevi had interrupted Jemeryl deliberately and saw with satisfaction the surprise on Ranenok’s face. His eyes shot to Jemeryl as if looking for signs of outrage. Instead he saw her calmly sip her wine. Tevi wondered if now Ranenok might believe that she was truly a free agent. Or would he just assume that Jemeryl was playing games with him?
“Um...You’ve no idea how great an asset she is.” Ranenok continued more hesitantly, although still addressing Jemeryl.
“As I said before, I’m just an ordinary mercenary.” Tevi further unsettled him by being the one to reply.
“Her...er...your effect on troop morale shouldn’t be underestimated. Quite apart from your own fighting ability. The soldiers trust you in a way they’ll never trust someone gifted with magic.” Ranenok at last was speaking to her. Tevi smiled, chalking it up as one small victory.
“Tevi’s not completely ungifted,” Jemeryl said.
Ranenok looked surprised. “What?”
“It’s a very minor gift. She has prescience, working less than a second into the future, about life-threatening events.”
“Oh, so that’s why you don’t wear a helmet in battle.”
“Jemeryl has told me the iron in the helmet would block the forewarning. I decided that I was safer without one,” Tevi said.
Ranenok nodded. “But the troops don’t know about it. From their viewpoint, you’re an ordinary soldier. One of them.”
“They know my strength is magical.”
“But it’s a type of magic they can relate to. Believe me, I see the difference when you’re their officer. The soldiers fight harder and fiercer.”
Dunarth had been drifting closer while they were talking. Unlike everyone else, the alchemist had made no attempt to wear her best clothes. Even Jemeryl had discarded her usual loose-fitting and well-creased overshirt for a dark green robe. Tevi had dressed head to foot in black, to match both her hair and her mood. But she had to concede that Dunarth’s stained work clothes had the edge. They gave the unmistakable message that the alchemist thought the reception was an unwarranted waste of time.
“You could get the same effect from the courage potion I made for you...the one you never use.” Dunarth’s irritation with Ranenok was clear.
“That’s because there’s a difference between high morale and suicidal recklessness,” he snapped back.
“So you say.”
“In an impossible situation, you need troops to retreat in good order. With your potion they just got slaughtered where they stood.”
“What does it matter? Either way they’d lost the battle.”
“With good morale the troops will regroup and carry on fighting from a better position. Dead soldiers can’t fight and I get left shorthanded.”
“It’s not my fault if you don’t have enough reserves with you.”
Jemeryl touched Tevi’s arm. “I’d like something to eat.”
Tevi gratefully went along with the excuse to escape the growing argument.
Mavek was by the domestic thralls, refilling his glass. The blacksmith was Tevi’s clear favourite among the acolytes. He had a barrel chest and huge hairy shoulders. As a sorcerer, he did not need muscles for his work. His magic would suffice. However, he looked the part, and his appearance helped Tevi feel at ease in his presence, as did his enthusiasm for his work and his welcoming smile. Although right now his face held an uncharacteristic scowl. The apprentice standing with him looked equally cheerless.
Mavek did not waste time on a polite greeting. “You got roped into this fiasco as well?”
“Bykoda kindly invited us,” Jemeryl answered pleasantly.
Mavek made a contemptuous noise.
Tevi caught Jemeryl’s eyes flick towards the thralls and remembered her guess at Bykoda attending in spirit. If the possibility had occurred to Mavek, he was not letting it censor his words. Then she noticed him sway slightly and realised he had come to the gathering already half drunk. His sense of caution was clearly dulled. Tevi hoped that he would not end up paying for it.
Mavek gestured with his glass towards the middle of the room where Yenneg and Anid had come face to face. “I don’t know why Bykoda has them as acolytes. They’re both useless. I bust my guts making things for them. They’d be sod all use if I didn’t...incompetent witches...and I never get a word of thanks out of either. Ranenok’s no better. And every time one of them makes a cock-up, they go running to Bykoda saying my work let them down.”
He took a gulp of wine and was about to go on. However, he was interrupted by raised voices. Yenneg and Anid clearly agreed with his opinions in as far as they related to the other one.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to say that.” Yenneg crackled with fury.
“Why not? It’s true,” Anid snapped back. If her tone sounded any less angry, it was probably due to the satisfaction of having nettled her rival.
Tevi led the way to a quiet corner where she and Jemeryl could have a respite from the hostility.
Jemeryl looked thoughtful. “You know, I think I’ve worked out the answer to something that has been puzzling me.”
“What?”
“Why Bykoda called this gathering.”
“And what is your answer?”
“It’s so that everyone will be reminded of just how much they hate all the rest.”
*
As the evening wore on the arguments fizzled out, if only because all the acolytes were now too angry to talk to each other. The exchanges had been heated at times, although the nearest thing to a violent assault was one of Ranenok’s officers receiving a glass of wine in the face.
Jemeryl had managed to stay clear of the squabbling, although she was increasingly irritated by the raised voices and repetitive insults. Dunarth was apparently the acolyte with the greatest stamina for verbal sniping. Well after everyone else had shut up, the alchemist was still haranguing Kharel about some supplies she wanted. Jemeryl thought that the contrast of style might have been interesting had it not been at the end of a tedious evening. Dunarth dug in with the determination of a terrier while Kharel was responding with aloof sarcasm.
“I asked for it four months ago.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve noticed that it’s winter at the moment. How did you think I was going to get it over the Barrodens?”
“I thought that’s what you used your foresight for. You order things when you can get them and before they’re needed.”
“Yes. But you need to tell me your requirements. I use foresight, not mind reading. And even if I could get into your mind, I don’t think I’d want to.” Kharel’s tone suggested that crawling through sewers would be a suitable analogy.
Jemeryl stood with Tevi in a corner, wondering when it would end. Surely the gathering would not last until dawn. She considered her empty glass, but decided against a refill. There was enough potential to make enemies without getting drunk.
“Can’t we go soon?” Tevi asked.
“That’s just what I was thinking. I’m hoping Kharel is going to make a sign that the party is over.”
“In which case someone needs to drag Dunarth off her.”
“As long as it doesn’t provoke a bigger argument.”
“So why don’t you try?”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the only sorcerer here who hasn’t been involved in a shouting match yet.”
“And I have no intention of starting.
”
Mavek staggered over. By now, he was very drunk. “Tevi. You’ve seen my...my lightning star. It worked. Ranenok’s a fool. He just can’t see...and...” Mavek straightened up slightly and began using his hands to illustrate his words. “The enemy is coming like this, and you’ve got the clouds here. Then what you need is...”
Jemeryl backed off a step. She had already heard the explanation once that evening. It had not made much sense to her then and, judging by the deterioration in Mavek’s speech, it was unlikely to be any more comprehensible the second time around. She caught Tevi’s eye and nodded in the direction of Kharel. The gathering had to end soon. There was a limit to how much more she could stand. Facing Dunarth’s wrath was a small risk by comparison.
Tevi stayed talking to the blacksmith, possibly to keep him out of trouble. Jemeryl slipped away and was halfway across the room, still trying to think of a suitable opening gambit, when she was intercepted by Commander Anid.
Anid was a short, solidly built woman of about fifty. She had a flat face, etched with lines that made her look permanently unhappy. Her blond hair was cropped short. She was in command of Bykoda’s army to the south, which also meant acting as Bykoda’s deputy for the region. As such, she had more autonomy than the acolytes based in Tirakhalod but had to renounce it when outside her area. The two junior officers and a dozen foot soldiers were all the support she had been allowed to bring with her to the castle.
“Jemeryl. I understand you will be returning to the Protectorate shortly.”
“Yes. In under a month.”
“And you’ll be taking your...Captain Tevirik with you?”
“Of course.”
“I wonder if you could be persuaded to part with her?”
“Pardon?” The question had Jemeryl floundering.
“The army grapevine. We get news from other regions. I’ve heard about how useful Ranenok has found her. It sounds like she’s a real asset, and I’m sure he’s made you an offer. Whatever it is, I’m prepared to top it.”
“You think you can buy her?” Jemeryl’s voice rose as the first kick of anger hit her.
“I wasn’t hoping that you’d give her to me for free.” The way Anid’s tone implied that she was being reasonable and friendly only made things worse.
“She’s not for sale.”
“You haven’t asked what I’m prepared to pay yet.”
“Tevi is not a possession. I don’t own her.” Jemeryl was furious.
“What is she, then? You must have created her somehow.”
“I didn’t create her. She doesn’t belong to me.”
Anid thought for a moment. “Does that mean she’s up for the taking? There’s nothing to stop anyone who wants from claiming her?”
“How dare you! Tevi is a free citizen of the Protectorate.”
“Oh yes, I know. You’ve got all these rules about rights for the ungifted. But she’s been serving in the army here. You could tell your Coven authorities that she’d been killed in action. Who’d know? I’d make it worth your while.”
“Tevi is a free woman. No one owns her, and no one ever will.” In the back of her mind, Jemeryl was aware that the room had gone silent. Heedless, she carried on, her voice as loud as anything that had been heard that night. “I take my oath to the Coven seriously, to uphold the laws of the Protectorate. It isn’t meaningless claptrap. And one of the rules is about preserving the freedom of its citizens. I swear, if you try to lay one finger on her, you’ll end up as a heap of smouldering cinders.”
Anid took a step back. She shook her head in bemusement and turned away, obviously realising that she was not going to change Jemeryl’s mind. Yet she could not resist one parting shot. “You get very emotional about her. She must be good in bed.”
Jemeryl did not know how she found the willpower to stop herself from blasting Anid where she stood. She spun around and stormed off to a corner where she was soon joined by Tevi.
“Um. Do you want me to remind you about not getting into a shouting match?”
“She wanted to buy you.”
“I gathered.”
“Aren’t you angry?”
Tevi shrugged. “I’ve been living with that attitude since we got here. I’ve sort of got used to it.”
“But surely not that blatant?”
“Sometimes. You could have asked how much she was prepared to pay. It might have worked out as a compliment.”
“Tevi!”
“I’m joking. Anyway, the good news is that your set-to with Anid gave Kharel the chance to escape. Perhaps she can now call the evening to a close.”
Even as Tevi spoke, fresh voices rose behind them, Ranenok and Kharel accusing each other of making a mistake with the provisions for the castle troops.
*
Mavek was the one who finally put an end to the gathering when he threw up and then passed out in the middle of the floor. Six of the thralls were needed to carry the huge blacksmith away. Dunarth immediately stomped off, without exchanging further words with anyone. Among the people remaining, there was a slow but unmistakeable drift towards the door.
Tevi sighed with relief, happy that they could now go. “Good old Mavek. He’s obviously been to these sort of events before. I’d been thinking he was drinking so much to blot out the surroundings, while all along, it was part of his escape plan.”
Jemeryl merely grunted in reply. She was showing no sign of regaining her good humour after the quarrel with Anid.
“And thankfully, we won’t have to attend any more.”
“One is more than enough. Come on. Let’s go.” Jemeryl drained her glass.
“We could wait for the scrum around the doorway to ease.”
However, Jemeryl had already set off across the room. Tevi was about to follow when a voice hailed her.
“Captain Tevirik. May I have a word?”
The speaker was Commander Yenneg, the leader of Bykoda’s army in the north. He was the youngest of the acolytes, not yet forty, tall and good-looking in a rakish way. He stood with loose-limbed ease. The smile on his face looked genuine, while his eyes met Tevi’s in friendly candour.
“Yes, sir?”
“I don’t want to keep you. But I wondered if you would come over to my rooms tomorrow evening. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Concerning what?”
“This isn’t the place, and there isn’t the time. I know you are about to leave.”
“Um...” Tevi glanced over her shoulder, but Jemeryl was out of earshot, marching towards the door. She looked back. There was no easy way to refuse the request, and no real reason why she should. It was a definite point in his favour that he was asking, rather than ordering. “Yes, sir. At what time?”
“Wait until after the watch calls seven. I ought to have finished the briefing by then.”
“All right, sir.” Tevi smiled back. “I’ll see you then.”
Yenneg gave a small nod of acknowledgement and then wandered back to his supporting officers.
*
Yenneg’s quarters were situated in the corner of the inner bailey diagonally opposite the rooms allocated to Jemeryl. At the appropriate time, Tevi exited the door of their tower and set off around the lit perimeter. The central gardens were in darkness, but the scent of flowers drifted on the breeze. By the gates, she passed the thralls standing guard. Tevi wondered if the mind-dead slaves could still smell the roses’ fragrance. And did anyone in Tirakhalod know or care about the answer?
When she arrived at her destination, a servant thrall silently escorted her to Yenneg’s ground-floor study. Bookshelves lined the walls and a desk covered with maps and reports stood in the middle of the room. Logs blazed in a large stone fireplace, complementing the mage lights hanging in midair. Above the mantel was a shield bearing Yenneg’s crest, a silver griffin on a blue background. Two comfy chairs were positioned beside a low table in front of the fire. Yenneg sat waiting, with a bottle of wine and two glasses laid out re
ady.
Tevi hesitated at the sight of him and the informal setting, recalling some of the rumours she had heard on the army grapevine. She wondered if she should have brought Jemeryl. Yenneg had not specifically asked her to come alone, but it was too late now.
Yenneg beckoned her to the empty fireside chair and indicated for her to sit. The thrall poured wine for them both and left. Yenneg settled back, took a sip of his drink, and then looked thoughtfully at Tevi.
“I was very impressed by Jemeryl’s remarks last night. Not just the threat to reduce Anid to cinders, although it’s a nice thought. But the assertion that she’s willing to treat you as a free individual who can make her own decisions.”
“She wasn’t just saying it, sir.”
“She wouldn’t stop you doing as you wish?”
“No, sir.”
“Jemeryl is taking you back to the Protectorate with her?”
Tevi hesitated over the word taking, but replied simply, “Yes, sir.”
“Did she ask you if you wanted to go?”
“She didn’t need to, sir. She knows how I feel about returning.”
“If you said you wanted to stay here, she’d accept your decision?”
“I’m sure she would.” Actually, Tevi hoped that Jemeryl would be upset enough about them separating to put up a fight, but she did not want to complicate the issue.
“So, what would it take to make you want to stay?”
Tevi took a mouthful of wine to cover the pause while she worked out how to phrase the answer. “I won’t leave Jemeryl. We are...”
“Lovers. I know.”
“Yes, sir.” The word was not strong enough to describe the bond, but it would do.
“You’ve been together for some time.”
“Over four years.”
“And neither of you is getting tired of the relationship?”
“No, sir.” Tevi felt a familiar irritation. Even in the Protectorate, so many assumed that a mighty sorcerer could have no real long-term interest in an ungifted mercenary fighter. The anger loosened her reticence. “Is this a preamble to offering me a place in your army?”
Yenneg laughed. “I admit I’m considering it.”
The Empress and the Acolyte Page 6
