by Megan Derr
Following him, Mahzan tethered all their horses, then flopped out on the grass, close to Cemal and Binhadi. "So if I recall the plan correctly, when last we bickered over it, I am to be your secretary and Cemal your bodyguard. Why are we making this absurd trip?"
"Journey to visit an old friend of mine," Binhadi replied. "Lady Eser, the Baroness Arzu."
Cemal looked at him in surprise. "I know that name. She was a priest in the Heart, highly respected and very well liked, but often secluded because she's a seer. She left shortly before I arrived, when her family died and she had to take over the estates. Though many speculated she also did it for the quiet; being a seer in a city is dangerous and exhausting."
"Yes," Binhadi replied. "We went to school together; she took up the robes shortly after we finished. You will like her. We will have a difficult time tearing Mahzan away from her library."
Mahzan turned his head to look at Binhadi, who looked cool and dark and handsome beneath the shade of the trees. Dismissing the odd, irrelevant observation, he said, "Books? Wait—you make it sound as though we really are going to see this Lady Eser."
"I am hoping she will have books that can better explain our Oath. I feel we are not using it fully, and may be unaware of pitfalls. You have mentioned none, and as you have said, knowledge is limited. I would like us to have all that we can find."
"Perhaps we can find a way to break it, too," Cemal mused.
"There is no breaking it," Mahzan said. "Save by the stipulations which made it—or death. Speaking of pitfalls and death, I read in more than one book that if a bond lasts for too long, then when one person dies, it's possible the others will die as well. But for all it's mentioned several times, it largely seemed to be supposition. I could never find accounts to firmly substantiate it."
Cemal grimaced. "I do not like it, even if it is only supposition. With the four of us, such things seem to become fact too often for my taste."
Mahzan looked up at the patches of blue sky scattered amongst the thick tangle of leaves and limbs. He laughed suddenly. "Did you know, back when Oaths were more common, that the weaker mages were considered the harem of the strongest? Traditionally speaking, we are the harem of Warlock Binhadi. Well, Warlock Morlock—"
"Definitely not," Binhadi said with a grimace.
Grinning, Mahzan began to sing, "Warlock Morlock. Morlock the—" He froze, went silent, as fingers dropped over his mouth. Binhadi looked at him a moment, dark eyes intent, before his fingers slowly slid away.
Mahzan could still feel them, and fought an urge to scrub at his mouth. "I wonder what Sule will say about being Binhadi's pretty little harem boy."
Sule's reply came sharp, clear, and violent in his mind.
Mahzan burst out laughing and sent back images of Sule in the delicate, frothy clothing of the concubines of Revere that he'd seen in various books.
I will murder you, Sule replied. Stop distracting me.
Backing off, Mahzan shifted his attention to Cemal, putting him in the ridiculous outfit.
Cemal laughed, shaking his head in horror. "I do not know what is worse about that image—the lace or the small amount of it. I think you could manage the look, Mahzan, but I would only turn stomachs." He smiled, face filled with amazement. "You do that so easily—sharing such clear images, I mean."
"I'd be a shoddy mind mage if I couldn't."
Binhadi's mouth ticked up the barest bit on one side. "That is not how concubines actually dress in Revere, you know." Images poured into Mahzan's mind as smoothly as wine poured into a glass, of men and women in clothing far more modest and elegant. They were serving Prince Seda and Binhadi, the entire scene proper and yet intimate all at once.
Another image flickered, Binhadi holding a woman—
Then it was gone, and Mahzan quirked a brow. "Oh, now, that's not nice. You share the dinner but not the after dinner treat?"
Binhadi smirked. "That is none of your business."
"Selfish," Mahzan replied. He shuffled through the images Binhadi had given him again, unable to squash a pang of envy. He would never see such sights. Even if he could travel, it would be as a peasant, with no access to things like the concubines of Revere.
"I do not see why you couldn't travel, and travel well, after all of this is over," Cemal said. "The king will reward us for saving the kingdom, and funding your travels is getting off rather lightly in terms of reward."
"Whatever," Mahzan said, annoyed the thought had slipped out. He refused to even let that hope be planted in his mind, and he absolutely would not let it take seed.
Cemal chuckled but said only, "We should probably go over what we know of this group we are seeking to kill or otherwise destroy, lovely as the discussion of concubines may be."
Mahzan snorted. "Some priest."
Grinning briefly, Cemal then focused on business. "Malea says her husband has an inner circle of five men. We handle that cluster of six, and the rest will fall apart and be easily dealt with, I feel."
"Ideally," Mahzan said.
"Ideally," Cemal conceded.
"Ideally," Binhadi echoed dryly, "Sule will be able to provide us with real information."
I have already learned the real reason her husband gets away with so much, Sule said suddenly. He's a voice mage.
Mahzan swore.
Some claimed voice magic was a rare branch of mind magic. The most popular subject in magic theory was mind magic, as people theorized the possibilities were virtually endless where it was concerned.
Most of those same studies concluded by saying the fact most mind mages went insane was all that kept mind mages in check. Mahzan had read countless journals and books discussing the matter at length, and they nearly all boiled down to fear, and sometimes fear that tipped into hate.
Personally, he thought it was telling that not so much as a single article was written by mind mages.
Voice magic was the ability to control or manipulate someone simply by speaking, similar to the way Mahzan could push—force—emotions into people's minds. The only difference was that mind mages were limited to emotions. Even Mahzan could not control and manipulate actual thoughts. He could not convince Sule he was a monkey, or weave Cemal's thoughts so that he decided to murder Binhadi. Make them both blindingly angry and throw Binhadi in their path, yes, but that was all.
A voice mage of sufficient skill and power, however, could convince a person to slit their own throat.
He'd never understood the desire to do such things, though history was rife with voice mages who did that and worse. Sule constantly harangued him about wasting his powers—voice mages excelled at wasting their abilities. What pleasure came from being falsely admired? Why use such an ability to spread hurt and steal power when it could be used to calm people, talk them out of slitting their throats or hurting someone else? How strong is he?
Not sure. He's not affecting me. I don't know—
Me, Mahzan said. I keep a shield over our group, and the fact voice magic does not work on mind mages protects the rest of you. It was yet another reason studies postulated voice magic and mind magic were all of the one.
Unfortunately, I can see it work on the others far too well. Very subtle. I do not think anyone realizes he has magic. His eyes are so light, and he uses it so carefully, in such low amounts, that his eyes do not really shine.
It is illegal for those with manipulative magic to use their powers and not disclose they possess them, Binhadi said.
Never compelled me to disclose mine, Mahzan replied. No one treats you the same; they always keep you apart. They don't trust you once they know you have manipulative abilities, even if, like me, you never use them.
Binhadi gave him one of his disapproving looks. They will trust you even less once they learn you were lying the whole time.
Mahzan shrugged as well as he could, given he was laying down. Know anything about his men?
I've only seen two of them so far. One is a fire mage, the other has no magic that I can
sense. Dree smacked Malea around and locked her in her room. His rage and helplessness poured through the bond. Mahzan reacted before he thought to stop himself, taking the negative emotions and turning them into determination and hope.
Stop manipulating me.
Your walls fall when you're upset. We do not know yet if he has a mind mage somewhere. You need to keep calm so your walls stay up.
If there is a mind mage in his gang, the bastard will only get emotions. He's not you.
Startled by the comment, the way it almost sounded like a compliment—two in one day, from Binhadi and Sule—Mahzan fell silent.
Cemal asked, How long can you linger around them before suspicion is raised?
I escorted his wife home after she helped save the Eyes from a nasty outbreak. They are still suspicious of me, but will not risk offending the crown by kicking me out too soon. Dree will show me hospitality for the night, then get rid of me in the morning. On that note, I think Dree is planning to call an early curfew. If I were you, I would get into the city now.
That will risk them being suspicious of us, Cemal said.
It's a risk we will have to take, Binhadi responded, ending the matter. He stood and brushed off his robes. Mahzan sighed and sat up. Cemal offered a hand, and Mahzan accepted, letting Cemal help him to his feet. He fetched the horses and swung up into the saddle of his own, then led the way out of the woods and back onto the road.
He held an arm out toward the village and bowed his head low as Binhadi reached him. "We are nearly to our resting point for the night, my lord."
Binhadi shook his head, but Mahzan felt he barest brush of his amusement. Cemal laughed openly, as he always did.
"You laugh a lot, for someone so perpetually gloomy beneath the surface," Mahzan said.
"Do I?" Cemal asked. His mouth quirked. "Perhaps I am trying to bury the gloom."
Mahzan batted the words away. "You do not bury negative emotion—you let it go."
Cemal stared at him, clearly startled.
"How ironic that the fool proves to be the smartest amongst us, time and again," Binhadi said over his shoulder. "Bodyguard, you should ride up here with me. Secretary, do try to remember your place, hmm?"
Mahzan lifted both his hands, palm facing out so they were just higher than his shoulders in a show of abject humility. "But of course, my lord. I long only to be your most humble and hard-working servant."
"You could not be humble if your life depended upon it," Cemal said, taking up his place alongside Binhadi.
Smirking, not bothering to deny the accusation, Mahzan fell into place behind them.
"Hopeless," Binhadi murmured, the word just barely audible.
They reached the gates of the city before Mahzan could reply, and instead he called a friendly greeting to the guards, who hailed back and bid them enter.
They had stopped for only a few hours at Three Circle before pushing on to Hemal's Pass. It made the second city he had visited since leaving the Heart. It should not thrill him—what were visits to a few piddling towns next to exploring other countries? To traveling on ships, seeing the ocean—
He quashed the thoughts and emotions and focused only on being a secretary. Given he knew absolutely nothing about what it meant to be one, only that the royal secretaries often looked harried, he could not afford distracting daydreams.
Dusk was creeping up on day, but it was still a couple of hours away. There should have been throngs of people still out on the streets, rushing to get everything done for the day before they were stuck inside for the night. Even in the Heart, where the curfew was not strictly enforced, people did most of their rushing about in the last couple of hours before sunset.
Here, though, the streets were practically empty; only the lamplighter boys, a few local guards, and a couple of vagrants were out. Binhadi called out to one of the boys shimmying up the tall streetlamp posts, "You, boy. Where can a man go for a good bed and warm meal?"
The boy lit the lamp with the taper clutched carefully in his teeth, replaced the glass covering it, then leapt to the ground with the flawless grace that only came from a thousand repetitions. "Evening, good sir—" His eyes widened as he actually saw Binhadi. "Beg, pardon, my lord. Uh, you'll be wanting Karle's Rest. Up the hill, turn right at the blue shop—that'll be the tailor—then go until you run right into it. Can't miss it, largest building on the Row, with a green and gold sign out front."
Binhadi thanked him, then gestured at Mahzan, nodding toward the boy. Mahzan obediently flipped the boy a coin, and they continued on their way. They garnered suspicious looks from guards, curious, openly gawking looks from the lamplighters and few other persons still out.
The people of Three Circles had treated them much the same. Shadow mages were simply not a common sight outside the Heart—and even within the Heart, there were not many. They were the stuff of whispers, of dark and tragic tales; the ability to manipulate shadows had always been held in awe. Wonder what it would do to your august presence if they knew you are merely snippy and bossy and given to brooding, rather than some fierce and terrible manipulator of darkness.
Snippy? Binhadi repeated, silent voice carrying an ominous tone.
Mahzan smothered a grin. Snippy. He did not doubt he would be paying for his impertinence later, but it was worth it. They rode on in silence, and Mahzan made note of all he could as they passed through the streets, not doubting it would be useful later when they…did whatever they were going to do.
How did one rout bandits? It was the sort of tale he read about in nonsensical adventure books and told in lavish and animated detail later to rapt audiences. The sort of tale that the soft, safe people of the Heart lapped up and constantly demanded he tell again and again.
It was not something that anyone actually did—slink into town and plot to slaughter or capture a gang of criminals, freeing a town from their tyranny. Three weeks after they had agreed to do it, the whole idea still sounded utterly absurd. I am never again giving my power to a shadow mage. Telling these tales is far more entertaining than participating in one.
Think of the fun you will have recounting this, though, Cemal replied.
Mahzan barely remembered not to snort. Only after heavy editing.
Cemal laughed in his mind, and Mahzan could tell without needing to see that Binhadi was rolling his eyes. Mahzan amused himself by reimagining the whole affair thus far in fantastical ways, until Cemal finally shot him a look that was equal parts frustration and amusement.
He subsided, grateful that a couple of minutes later they finally reached the inn they sought. As promised, it was the largest building on the row, with a large green and gold sign on the street in front of it.
They stopped out front, and Mahzan waited for a moment, confused—until he remembered it was his job to do everything for his useless lord.
Servants as insolent as you usually get beaten, Binhadi said, a thread of amusement in his voice. Even if there hadn't been, the threat was empty. Binhadi might be terrifying to most, but it wasn't because he beat servants.
We all know very well that I would just take a beating as encouragement, Mahzan replied, smirking briefly before he slid off his horse and strode up to the high, wide double doors of the inn. The smell of roasting meat greeted him, made his stomach growl, and the only thing better was the smell of ale when a busy looking wench passed by with an overburdened tray.
He shoved his way through servants and guests, until he finally reached a counter where a stiff, spindly woman was making notes in a ledger that seemed bigger than she. It was only as he reached the counter and she noticed him that Mahzan realized one glaring problem. I have absolutely no idea how one—takes? rents?—a room. It was not something he had ever needed to do, living his whole life in the Heart. Until now, they hadn't needed such lodgings, so he had not even seen the others do it.
Sule's voice poured into his mind, impatient and clipped as always. Be your most obnoxious self, otherwise she'll try to say they're ful
l up in order to get more coin out of you. Say you require a room for your lord, with additional bedding for two servants. You will also require a bath, two meals for all parties, stabling and feed for three horses. Staying at least three nights, possibly as many as six.
Cemal interjected, Make noisy demands about the linens being fresh and the food not being from the slop buckets or the ale mostly water. Also that the room had better be quiet. Your master will not tolerate being boarded alongside noisome buffoons.
Feeling stupid that he was ignorant about something so commonplace, Mahzan dutifully did as he was instructed. The woman's stiff manner did not change, but he caught a certain slyness to her thoughts. "Five silver, then," she said.
Robbery! Cemal and Sule said together, furious. I would like to see her try that with my sword in her face, Sule continued. Tell the wench you'll not pay more than two silver and five coppers, and if she tries such tricks again, you will see to it her master hears of it.
Mahzan regarded the woman coldly. "I do not appreciate the attempt to fleece my master. You will count yourself lucky if I do not pass on that you are trying to steal from him. You will count yourself fortunate, indeed, if I do not tell your master how you treat guests and insist you are flogged for it. I am paying two silver, five copper, and not a pence more."
"Just a mistake, sir," the woman said hastily, going pale. "Honest mistake, I swear it. I've the perfect room for you, and it was just prepared a short time ago. Fresh linens, hot water, good soap, and the dinner bell should be ringing shortly." She picked up a small bell on the counter and rang it; a moment later, a boy of ten or so years came running up to her. "Three horses waiting outside, Temi. See they're treated proper. If you'll just invite your master in, sir, I will show you up to the room."
Handing over the coin, Mahzan nodded and went to the door, even if it was not strictly necessary. Binhadi and Cemal joined him, and they followed the terrified-looking woman up the stairs and down to the end of the hall. She unlocked the door, gave the key to Mahzan, and curtsied low to Binhadi. When he nodded, she all but ran back down the hall.
