Illidian drew her to her feet. "You can't take every would-be Thought Mage as a student."
"I know. Seb kept saying the same thing, and told me I should write a basic manual for the hordes." She leaned into his arms. "Just by being a Thought Mage I've started something that I can't control. The most I can do is be open about my methods and hope people will believe me about making an honest appraisal of a mage's abilities before any attempt to step beyond basic. Having taken the risk myself, I can hardly forbid them from trying to become…"
"A real mage?" Illidian asked when she hesitated.
"I'd rather not put it like that."
"Much as you've tried to qualify it, it's how you and Sebastian regard yourselves."
She sighed, and went to climb into the bed because she was starting to feel too tired to stand. "Full mages, perhaps. 'Real' is the wrong way to look at it, though there's no way I'm telling Kendall and Sukata that non-Thought Mages always seem so...half-made to me. I don't want anyone to consider Thought Magic a mandatory part of being a mage. So many shouldn't even make the attempt at basic manipulation: they're just not suited. To take the step beyond that really can be dangerous, and I can't even be sure that any of my three can manage it. Sukata may do it—she has that combination of confidence and intuition. And any of them could kill themselves in the process. And I will hate myself a little if that happens, and every time I hear that some child has died trying to be me. I'm working on not dwelling on it too much."
The impact of her family's casting techniques on mages in general was something she had not anticipated. Her life-long focus on killing Solace had left little thought to spare for what came after. A rise in Thought Magic should have been obvious—but she had not foreseen it any more than she had imagined that she would so completely link her future with the Kellian.
She was fortunate to have a husband who knew how useless it was to tell her not to feel guilty for existing. Better still that he chose to distract her with several long kisses. The time on the ship had shifted their relationship, the aspect of patient and nurse receding rapidly once Illidian had decided it was safe to touch her. That he chose to match his day to hers, to break it in half and stay with her when she went to bed after lunch, was something she appreciated so much she doubted she could put it into words. She was not good at enduring her complete lack of stamina, and the matter-of-fact way Illidian adapted to her limitations lessened her sense of being a dreary burden.
The limits of her physical health never went away, and when she was tired the hurdles in their immediate future seemed insurmountable. There was no guessing how much chasing about they would need to do to locate the Black Queen's son. And would these missing mages of the Emperor's be a clue or a distraction?
Looming large in the list of things Rennyn wished to be distracted from was the visit to Aurai's Rest, the settlement the Kellian had established in the massive forest north of Kole. Those who waited there troubled her even more than her apparent career killing her relatives: the Kellian descendants who chose not to serve in Tyrland, and the nine surviving originals. A different set of relatives.
"When was the last time you saw your mother?"
"Five years ago. Most of us will visit the Rest at least once every decade. Often more frequently."
Illidian had made clear that he doubted his mother would be enthusiastic about their marriage, and so the best approach to meeting her was exercising Rennyn's mind a good deal. "Does she ever come to Tyrland?"
"Never." Propping himself on an elbow, he traced a stray lock of her hair, a favourite gesture. "Mother feels we should manage our relationship with humans more strictly. That living as a minority among them will inevitably create a situation where we are driven out and hunted." His eyes were shuttered, grey as the clouds. "Events may yet prove her correct."
"What was worrying you when you came in?" she asked, abandoning the vexing issue of Darian Faille for the moment.
"A sense of unease with no focus. As if the future was overcast. Nothing useful." Illidian's voice was wry. The refined senses people called Kellian instinct were excellent for dealing with direct attacks, but tended to plague him when the threat they were responding to wasn't so easily defined. "Knowingly bringing you closer to Prince Helecho is not an easy matter."
"If he does still have my focus, it's probable he intends to lure me or hunt me at some point," Rennyn admitted. "Our best chance is to catch him unaware. Even then—" She paused. "We can only guess at how much strength he's gained while I've been recovering. He may have grown into a threat that will require armies to combat. And how we deal with that without looking like an official Tyrian expedition I can't guess."
"The hunting of Eferum-Get is something that should not, and usually does not care for borders. But this is a monster that could be a political tool, or pursue its own ambitions. Queen Astranelle would prefer him dealt with quietly. I—" Illidian shifted, the muscles in his back bunching. "I just wish him dead."
"Everyone does," Rennyn murmured, and hoped it could be done without her ever having to even see her Wicked Uncle again.
CHAPTER TEN
"It never ceases to amaze me how sitting on your rear all day is so tiring and leaves you feeling so grubby," Lieutenant Meniar said. "Since this Waystation is on Kole's border, I'm hoping it has Kolan style baths. And that they live up to their reputation."
"What are Kolan baths supposed to be like?" Kendall asked, sliding down the shutter of the coach window despite the damp wind outside.
The twitch at the corner of Lieutenant Meniar's mouth let Kendall know his answer was going to be entertaining, but not entirely true, so she turned her eyes to grey fields fading to blackness, and only half-listened to talk of naked people sitting around steamy pools together. They were travelling one of the Imperial Ways, so the coach ran smooth and straight, but a broken wheel had delayed the caravan and they weren't going to reach the next Waystation for at least another hour.
Lieutenant Faral leaned forward and touched her knee. "Faille would know and wake Her Grace if any life-stealers came close."
"I guess." Kendall shrugged, sharper than she'd meant to, but it wasn't as if she'd said anything about being worried.
"We're travelling too fast anyway," Lieutenant Meniar added. "Moving slower than walking pace is part of the reason life-stealers prey on the sleeping."
Kendall looked out the window again. She could see a few specks of light in the far distance, and supposed there was a farmhouse there. A few months ago, she'd never gone further than the nearest village, let alone swanned about in fancy carriages, and she'd always watched with envy as the mail coach passed. The Kolan Wayporters travelled in groups for safety, and sped at great speed along the roads they kept boasting about, and Kendall couldn't help but be pleased to have come along, despite certain unshiftable annoyances.
Wondering how much of the gab about the baths was true, she pulled the window shutter closed as the endless rain picked up again. At least there were plenty of light and heatstones to make wet autumn days bearable.
"Why don't life-stealers, or any of the Night Roamers, just hunt animals instead of people?" she asked. "No-one's ever been able to explain that to me."
"Possibly because no-one's ever been able to do more than guess," Lieutenant Meniar said. "Though I must remember to ask the Duchess what the Surclere view is."
"The most common theory ties to the popular idea for the origin of the Eferum-Get," the pest said, because the gods forbid a day went by when Fallon DeVries couldn't show off. "If Eferum-Get are created by our nightmares, then reciprocally we are what they need to feed upon."
"In parts of the west you will see depredation on animals," Lieutenant Meniar added. "The Empire doesn't manage Eferum-Get as efficiently as Tyrland. They rely on strong circles, often bolstered by walls, and periodically sweep regions. Eferum-Get who can't prey on humans usually die after a time, but some adapt. Their magical aspects fade, and so does their dependence on humans."
Kendall was willing to bet they wouldn't pass up anyone they could get their claws on, but settled back to deciding whether she was going to give Rennyn her attempt at the Sigillic divination or pretend she hadn't even tried. It wasn't that she had any trouble looking up words in the Sigillic dictionary, but writing precisely what you wanted to happen in sigils was harder than it sounded. There seemed to be a thin line between getting it just so, and having your head explode. And Rennyn wouldn't give her a 'form book' full of Sigillics that other people had already worked out, so Kendall could check how close she was to right.
She'd just about decided that it wasn't worth giving the Pest another chance to tell her how to do it right when Lieutenant Faral opened the door and climbed onto the roof. She moved with the total ease only a Kellian could manage, disappearing into the rain without even a pause. As the coach driver let out a startled oath, Sukata pulled the door shut, then slid down the shutter. Lieutenant Meniar tugged his slate book from the enormous inner pocket of his coat and flipped it open.
"You do numbers, Sukata. I'll do type."
Kendall reminded herself that Kellian instinct was all about approaching danger and that the Sentene used a lot of hand signals. At least the Pest looked just as astonished.
"We're very close to the Waystation," said Lieutenant Faral, her voice sounding spookily from the window just before the driver began clanging his warning bell to alert the rest of the caravan to danger. Kendall couldn't work out what else she said but by now Sukata had got through her casting, and the way her head moved back warned that it was bad.
"Dozens," Sukata said, with proper Sentene to-the-pointness. "Spread out ahead around a central cluster."
Lieutenant Meniar's eyes flickered, but he didn't falter in casting the second, more complex divination, despite the increasing jolting of the coach. The driver had whipped the horses to a mad dash, and even on an Imperial Way the coach bounced like a skipping stone. Kendall had a brief vision of the lead coach overturning and the rest of the caravan ploughing into it. They would be all tumbled and smashed and whatever was out there would have easy pickings.
"At this speed we should be able to break through," the Pest said, not sounding like he believed himself. "We only need to make the circle. If it's walled, the Waystation guards will get ready to open the gate when they hear the bell."
Not bothering to respond, Sukata slid Lieutenant Faral's sword out from under the seat and held it up out the window, then produced the long knife she kept strapped uncomfortably to one thigh.
"If we are stopped outside the circle, we must go directly to Her Grace," she said. "Stay close, on my left side."
That shouldn't be too far. Of the six coaches in the caravan, Rennyn had hired two. It gave them seats spare so Kendall, Sukata and the Pest could ride with Rennyn and Captain Faille in the mornings and the Lieutenants in the afternoons. Rennyn's coach was the next one up, third in line.
"Hells!" Lieutenant Meniar started out of his seat and stuck his head out the window. "Keste—it's a Kentatsuki in swarm. Can you see the Waystation?"
"Too close," Lieutenant Faral said as the coach lurched, slowing, and the driver stopped sounding his alarm. "Brace yourselves."
Lieutenant Meniar barely had time to throw himself back onto the seat before the coach lurched wildly, veering to the left. Sukata gripped Kendall's shoulder with her free hand, and the Pest managed to snatch at a strap as everything loose tumbled to one side. As the faint tingle of a circle's border made Kendall shiver she heard a huge bang outside. Wood groaned, then the coach thudded into a smoother course, lurched again, and stopped with an almighty judder and much clashing of hooves.
"Follow me. Now." Sukata had gone very commanding and in charge. She thrust open the coach's right door and hopped out into the rain. Kendall was slow to move, frozen by the noise: people shouting, pistols going off. Just ahead was a sound barely recognisable as a horse.
When Lieutenant Meniar slid out past her, Kendall managed to shift herself and follow, so busy trying to look in every direction at once she dropped straight into a puddle, drenching herself to the knees. There was a little light, and she could see that this Waystation was much the same as the one they'd stayed at yesterday. A vast wooden wall circled it all, with a big building to one side, four floors high, and a mash of stables and sheds around it. A third of the circle was left for a through-road and a place to unload coaches before they were drawn outside for the night.
The lead coach had clipped a wagon and overturned, the horses broken free except one lying tangled in the traces. There were horses everywhere, panicked and trampling. Kendall's coach had veered toward the main building and almost through the wide-open door, and there was a coach right behind them, the horses blocking the way to Rennyn's. The last two coaches had managed to pull up just outside the circle, and passengers were crowding out only to stop and fall over each other as they saw the same things Kendall didn't want to, scrabbling up on the first coach.
Bugs. About a third the size of a man, purple-pink and...fleshy. They had long wings, and legs that flexed and gripped like spiky arms. The heads…she struggled to think what they reminded her of. Dogs? And they were making a noise, a rasping scrape that bored into Kendall's skull.
There were more than the four trying to pull off the door of the fallen coach. There were flickers of movement everywhere, things darting forward, not bothered by the soft light of the Waystation's mageglows. They hopped more than flew, but they were quick, and the caravaneers trying to shoot them were far too spooked and clumsy, even without the rain dampening their powder. The lead coach had had an expensive rifle that used magic to spit its shot, but that must be lost under the tangle of spilled luggage.
Kendall's coach jerked as the driver struggled to control horses trying to back, and Lieutenant Faral jumped down from the roof as the Pest stumbled into Kendall. Sukata caught her elbow, and they all moved in a rush to find Captain Faille guarding the open door of Rennyn's coach.
He was holding the longest of his swords, the one nearly as tall as he was, and gave Sukata a smaller one as she arrived. Adding only a Sentene hand signal, he and Lieutenant Faral turned and were gone, blurring in two separate directions.
"Into the coach," Sukata ordered, and hustled Kendall and the Pest in before they could move on their own. Rennyn was sitting just inside the door, her face set. Lieutenant Meniar began casting something: a spell inscribed on a metal plate strapped to his wrist. He didn't even look up as Sukata, sword a blur, sent one of the bugs tumbling in pieces back the way it had come. Dozens, Sukata had said. Dozens.
"How did they get inside the circle?" the Pest asked, then started as something landed on the roof. As Sukata turned, a man dashed past her, two more bugs in close pursuit. The people crowded at the circle's entrance had started running in all directions, even out away from the Waystation.
It was too much for Rennyn. "Kendall, tell them to shield their eyes," she said, leaning forward.
For a second Kendall tried to snatch her back to safety, but then her brain woke up and she yelled with all her might: "Shield your eyes!" before half-covering her own. Through parted fingers she saw Rennyn glance up, which was the only warning before the sun came out.
No, brighter. Hot, white, piercing light, stabbing through Kendall's fingers. The thing on the roof made a noise like a clockwork cat being boiled: a shrieking, clattering hiss followed by a thump as it fell to the ground. Eyes slitted, Kendall felt rather than saw Rennyn start to tip forward, and grabbed at the back of her coat. Managing to catch hold before her teacher was more than halfway out, Kendall pulled back and ended with a damp armful already colder than she should be. Kendall hadn't figured out more than that before the glare through the coach door changed.
Light did weird things to Kellian. Sunlight turned them golden, their eyes yellow discs, their hair and nails pale flames. At full moon they were silver, and they even went a kind of rose during a painted dawn. Kendall had never seen one i
n light as strong as this, and for a moment couldn't even tell who it was, saw only a vaguely human shape of burning blue-white. Even the clothing was lit or lost in the glare.
But of course it was Captain Faille. One lightning-tipped hand found Rennyn's throat, touched her cheek, then he picked up a cloak from the seat opposite and laid it over them.
"Keep her warm. DeVries, assist Meniar."
Gone again. Kendall squinted into the glare, then tightened her grip on Rennyn.
"Is she—?" The Pest stopped trying to squeeze himself into the far corner of the coach and moved forward. "I suppose she must be. Fel, she can cast like that without a focus." He shook his head, grimaced, and then slid out into the blaze.
Frowning, Kendall slipped an arm under Rennyn's legs and struggled to move her limp figure away from the door. Stupidly tall woman. That she didn't stir at all during the heaving wasn't a good sign. Sliding into the gap by the door, Kendall tucked the cloak properly around her charge, then pulled one of the warm glowstones to her and set it in Rennyn's lap. She might still be breathing, but Kendall hadn't seen Rennyn so deeply unconscious since that first week after she nearly died.
But it was being wet that was the problem, and Kendall, still dripping herself, scuffled about trying to dry hair and skin and finding another of the glowstones. The demon prince's miscasting had stolen Rennyn's physical strength, so not only was she liable to catch colds, but Lieutenant Meniar had explained that even a minor sniffle could weaken Rennyn enough to make her more likely to catch another. And that would tire her more, so that she'd have a harder time fighting off the next. Even relatively little problems could lead to a deadly downward spiral.
With an arm around Rennyn's waist to make sure she stayed upright, Kendall squinted into the glare, trying to work out what was happening through the haze of rain and light. Less screaming now, more shouted questions but, since everyone except Kendall spoke Kolan or Verisian, this didn't tell her much. Over near the lead coach she could make out Lieutenant Meniar talking rapidly to the man who had run past, who was clutching his shoulder. Lieutenant Faral was a streak of lightning on top of the tumbled coach, helping someone climb out. The only caravaneers Kendall could see were trying to calm the horses of the next coach over. The Vanmaster, a grizzled and impatient type, came staggering up to Lieutenant Meniar, herded by Captain Faille. Collecting the injured, Kendall guessed.
The Sleeping Life (Eferum Book 2) Page 9
