A short silence followed as the men exchanged glances, looking to see who would speak first.
“We need an assurance that he will send out a force of magicians to retake and protect border leys if they are overcome,” Prinan said. “At least, that’s what my father said.”
Everran nodded. “And he is right.” He turned to Dakon. “This is what Lord Narvelan asked you to do?”
Dakon nodded. “Yes.”
“But isn’t it insulting to the king to suggest he wouldn’t retake leys?” Bolvin asked.
The magicians’ reaction to this was a mixture of shrugs and nods. Dakon noted how several heads had turned towards Sabin. For some reason they thought him a greater authority on the king than anyone else here.
“He would find it so,” Sabin agreed. “He would know there is more to the request than what you ask for, and be annoyed that you think him fool enough not to see it.”
“It’s all in the way you ask for it,” Olleran said, looking round. “You would have to say: “There are some, in the city, who have been heard to express the opinion that the outer leys aren’t worth fighting for in the event they are taken. What is your opinion, your majesty?’”
Sabin chuckled and looked at Olleran. “How many times have you practised that little speech?” he asked quietly.
Olleran shrugged modestly. “A few...hundred.”
“And if he wants to know who expressed this opinion, what do I say?” Dakon asked. “Will I need names?”
“Tell him lords who won’t act unless it brings them direct benefits,” Wayel growled. “Magicians unwilling to put their lives at risk, through selfishness or cowardice.”
“We must make them see a lack of action will cost them more in the long term,” Bolvin said. “The Sachakans won’t stop at a few outer leys. They will see a lack of a resistance as a sign of weakness, and take all.”
“Some will not believe that. Not until it is too late,” Sabin predicted. “Magical ability does not come only to those with foresight.”
“Or common sense,” Everran agreed. “But most of the reluctant would change their minds if an attack did come. For now they hold higher the opinions of their most powerful allies because they feel they have to, but faced with the news of an attack they might decide that, if we proved to be right about an invasion of the outer leys, we might prove to be right about the consequences of not driving the Sachakans back out.”
“They had better change their minds,” Bolvin muttered. Others nodded and a small silence followed. Dakon held his tongue. They had not answered his question, but perhaps the digression would come back round to the subject again if he waited.
“Would the more resistant help us for a fee?” Prinan asked.
The room vibrated with noises of protest.
“The king would not condone it!” Bolvin declared.
Dakon shivered. “If he allowed the Sachakans to hold our land without resistance, he would have sunk so low that allowing others to demand a fee to help us will seem a minor crime.”
“We will only buy help if we are desperate,” Everran assured him.
“If we get to that point I’m not sure I’d have much regard left for my own countrymen,” Sabin said, sighing.
Gilar nodded in agreement. “Are the Sachakans in the city a problem?” He smiled at Olleran. “Aside from your lovely wife, of course.”
“Oh, she’s a problem, just not in the way you mean,” Olleran said, with an unconvincing grimace. “More my own private little problem.”
“You do long-suffering very badly, Olleran,” Sabin said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“Most are traders,” Wayel said, ignoring the banter. “And there’s Emperor Vochira’s representative. A few women who married Kyralians.” He nodded to Olleran. “I expect if they are a danger it will be only in the usual ways: they may be spies, and might attempt to bribe or trick Kyralians into doing harm here.”
“The people we have to worry about,” Sabin said, “are the more powerful Kyralian families, especially those who have troubles a rich offer from Sachaka could help to solve. Debts. A lack of buyers for produce. Competitors.”
Ah, good, Dakon thought. Back to the subject of who might speak against us...
“Who?” he asked. “Are they the same people speaking out against us now?”
Wayel shook his head. “It may be unwise to start pointing fingers at anybody in particular. That is not a wise approach.”
Sabin nodded. “What the lords think is irrelevant. They will not be making the decision to regain the border leys if they are taken. The king will.”
“So should Dakon try to convince the king that the leys are worth keeping?” Prinan asked.
Everran shook his head. “That should only come if we are convinced he believes otherwise. Wayel is right. Mentioning adverse opinions is a dangerous justification for seeking his assurance of protection. He is bound to ask who expressed those opinions, and who passed that information on, and hesitate to believe any of it if we have no proof, and it just sounds like gossip.” He sighed. “No, it is by presenting the latest evidence we have that we can justify seeking reassurance from him.”
The others nodded. Dakon suppressed a sigh of relief. At last they were agreeing with each other.
“Plainly and simply, so he doesn’t think we’re jumping to conclusions,” Wayel added quietly.
“I don’t think there’s any danger he’ll think that of Dakon.” Everran smiled and nodded to his guest. “And if Dakon appears to need reassuring for his own benefit, rather than for the benefit of us all, it may be enough of a prompt to extract promises from the king.”
“A promise to Dakon, not us,” one of the other ley magicians pointed out.
“Would there be a difference, ultimately?” someone else asked.
“King Errik is hardly going to make such a promise to one ley magician and not others,” Sabin said quietly. “Unless, of course, he wanted to show favour – but in this case it would be foolish to risk jealousy among the country magicians. He wants them united, not competing with each other.”
“Are you sure?” Wayel asked. “He might want to use such a ploy to divide us, to stop us pestering him.”
“He won’t,” Sabin said. The others nodded in acceptance, once again demonstrating to Dakon the respect the others had for the sword master.
“So if he makes a promise, it will be to all of us?” Prinan asked.
Sabin nodded. “But I will be surprised if he makes any promises. He does not give any ground if he does not have to. At least, not in a practice bout.”
Suddenly the source of the respect the others showed the sword master was obvious. Sabin must spar with the king, Dakon thought. That would give him some insight into the man’s intellect and character. Then another possibility occurred to him. I wonder if he is one of the magicians who give magical strength to the king?
Everran sighed. “No doubt it is too much to expect, but if Dakon can extract or spark some discussion on the form and timing of the king’s aid, it would be easier for us to make plans – ah! Let’s talk about that later. Here’s the food!”
As servants entered the room carrying platters of food, glasses and flagons of wine and water, the visitors moved to the benches. Some struck up conversations with their neighbours as they ate, rehashing what they’d already covered. Dakon considered what he’d heard so far. He didn’t feel as though he’d gained much insight into how to approach the king yet. The talk had gone in circles.
As he looked at Everran, the man smiled and tilted his head toward his friends slightly as if to ask “Are you listening to this?”
Suddenly it became clear to Dakon what Everran expected. These powerful men did not like to be pushed or interrupted, especially when caught up in passionate discussion. No, it was up to Dakon to take note of what was said by whom, and select which men to approach later and ask more specific advice about the coming meeting.
And what would he ask? Wh
at he needed to know was how King Errik might react to certain approaches and suggestions. Sabin appeared to be, unexpectedly, the man closest to the king. Dakon would have chosen Wayel at first, but the man had asked some questions Dakon had expected him to know the answer to, so perhaps he was too new in his position. And the others?
When the discussions began again, Dakon decided, he would insert a few comments and questions designed to reveal more about these men. He waved away the offer of wine, opting for water instead.
As on every visit to the city Dakon had made before, it took some time to adjust to the more subtle ways matters were tackled here. This time he had to adapt fast, because the level of politics the king was involved in was a complicated and tortuous one indeed, and soon he would be meeting with the man himself.
Through the window flap of the wagon’s cover Tessia saw a frightening and thrilling sight. A great crowd of people and wagons filled the streets, all pushing in different directions. More people than wagons – and there were plenty of those. More people in one place than she’d ever seen before. The mass of them, the sense of gathered force, the roar of voices, set her heart racing.
The reason the Parade was so crowded lay at the foot of it. A mass of people had gathered there, and the sound of music rose faintly above the crowd. Flashes of colour promised strange sights.
The market.
“We should have left earlier,” Avaria said for the fourth time, sighing and smoothing her carefully pinned hair.
They had talked about Tessia’s childhood and upbringing, the reason her father had moved to Mandryn, how Tessia had discovered her powers (Avaria accepted that Takado had merely “given her a fright’) and all the interesting incidents on the journey to Imardin. Tessia was beginning to wonder if she’d used up all the significant stories of her life within her first day in the city.
She also felt as if she was talking about herself too much. But when she asked Avaria the same sorts of questions, the woman would begin an anecdote about her childhood or apprenticeship, only to be reminded of something else she wanted to ask Tessia.
“It might be faster on foot.” Tessia peered at the crowd passing the wagon.
“Not a good idea, I’m afraid. Aside from all the shoving and pushing, we’d be robbed before we got there,” Avaria said, shrugging gracefully.
“Robbed?” Tessia looked at her hostess in alarm.
Avaria smiled crookedly. “Indeed – though it is unlikely we’d notice at first. Pickpockets are very skilled in Imardin. And most are children – small and fast in a crowd. Even if you see them, your servants have no hope of catching them.”
“Children?” Tessia looked more closely at the crowd. She’d seen some appallingly thin, dirty children the day before. No surprise they were desperate enough to turn to thieving.
Her father had told her about the poor of Imardin. When she had asked him why they had no money his explanation had been long and complicated. He’d offered a list of reasons – too little work for too many people, nobody willing to offer work to people who were a bit strange in the mind, or crippled. Some people had nobody to care for them when they fell ill, and if their illness led to their no longer having work they might starve before they recovered. Some people were injured while working, and if their employers didn’t care for them they ended up in a similar situation.
It was not the first time, and certainly not the last, that she’d been told that few lords were as caring of their people and conscious of their responsibilities as Lord Dakon and his father had been. Some were fools. Some only saw their people as commodities. Some were downright malicious.
“Poor things,” Avaria said. “Born into poverty, raised to be thieves. If the city is plagued by such ills, it serves it right for not taking better care of its people.”
Tessia nodded, wondering at this way of referring to the city as if it were a person.
“But it can’t be as easy to care for a whole city as it is a village.”
“No.” Avaria smiled and her eyes glowed as she looked at Tessia. Perhaps in approval. Tessia wasn’t sure.
The wagon began moving. Tessia braced herself, expecting it to stop again, but it rolled on. Then it swung round a corner and came to a halt again.
“We’re here!” Avaria announced happily. Rising, she pulled the wagon cover open and climbed out. One of the two male servants who had ridden on the back of the wagon was already there to help her down to the ground. As Tessia stepped down the tiny ladder built against the side of the vehicle, the second servant moved forward to offer a hand. She didn’t take it, but smiled at him in gratitude anyway.
He smiled back politely and followed as she moved to join Avaria, who hooked an arm through hers.
Tessia looked around and blinked in surprise. They weren’t in the market, as she’d expected. They were in a busy side street, narrower than the main roads and lined with small shops.
“Welcome to Vanity Street,” Avaria said, patting Tessia’s arm. “Where most of the best shops in Imardin can be found.”
“Not in the market, then?”
“Oh no. That’s full of vegetables and grain and smelly animals. The only cloth you’ll find there is for making grain sacks or saddles, and the closest thing they have to books is wax accounting tablets.”
Avaria guided Tessia to one side of the street. The closeness of the other woman was unexpected, but reassuring. The street was crowded with finely dressed men and women. Musicians in pairs and trios played and sang at the side of the road and occasionally a passer-by tossed a coin into the iron cups at their feet. The cups, Tessia noted, had numbers painted on their sides.
“Come in here,” Avaria said, drawing Tessia through the door of a shop. Inside, the street noises were muffled. Two women were examining rolls of cloth laid out on a table. More rolls leaned up against the walls, in a dazzling range of bright colours. A man was standing in the doorway to another room. As Tessia looked at him he smiled and nodded politely.
“Oh, look,” Avaria suddenly exclaimed. “Isn’t this beautiful!” She led Tessia to one of the walls and tugged off a glove so she could run her fingers lightly over some smooth cloth in a deep, vibrant blue.
“I must have some of this. What colours do you like, Tessia?”
Looking around at the range of brilliant colours, Tessia couldn’t help thinking they were all a bit too gaudy. She tried to imagine each individually forming a garment, and found herself drawn to a dark green. It reminded her of one of her father’s favourite wound-salve ingredients, an oil from a tree that grew in the mountains, which smelled delicious.
Avaria picked up the bolt and held it up to Tessia’s face.
“You have a good eye,” she told her. “That will suit you very well.” She turned to the seller. “We’ll take both. Oh, and that would look wonderful on Everran.” She picked up another bolt of dark red then winked at Tessia. “Thankfully, the only bit of Sachakan bloodline left in his veins is the good one – he has such enviable skin.”
So that explains the golden tone of his skin, Tessia thought. She’d noticed interesting physical differences between the rich and powerful men and women in the city and the commoners. There was a greater variety in their height, stature and colouring, whereas commoners were more likely to be slight and pale-skinned, the more typical Kyralian characteristics.
Avaria beckoned over the man and much haggling ensued; then, from the embroidered bag tucked into the waist of her dress, she counted a sum that made Tessia slightly breathless. The cloth was wrapped and given to the servants to carry. With a satisfied sigh, Avaria led Tessia outside, hooked her arm round Tessia’s again, and continued down Vanity Street.
“What else can we buy? I know! Some shoes.”
Several shops later Avaria had bought more cloth, some shoes that were going to make Malia squeak with admiration, a bag for Tessia to store her coin in because “that thing Dakon gave you is too manly’, and some hand mirrors. When Tessia hesitated before a shop w
indow filled with fine writing tools, paper and books, Avaria wordlessly pulled her inside. Tessia bought her father some quills and ink in a box inlaid with different types of wood. Avaria complimented her on her choice of gift.
“He’ll think of you every time he uses it.”
Next a shop filled with books caught Tessia’s eye and she was glad when Avaria headed towards it. A quick examination told her there was nothing that her father didn’t already have among the healing tomes, though. Lord Yerven had always brought back a book or two for her grandfather, after his trips to Imardin.
“Do you read novels?” Avaria asked.
“I found some when I first moved into Lord Dakon’s house,” Tessia answered, moving to join her. A small row of slim volumes sat within a long narrow display box.
“Did you like them?”
“Yes – they’re a bit... unrealistic.”
Avaria laughed. “That’s what’s so fun about them. What have you read?”
“Moonlight on the Lake. The Ambassador’s Daughter. Five Rubies.”
“Old ones.” Avaria waved a hand dismissively. “Honarand has written much better ones since then. You’ll find his island series quite enchanting.”
“The author is a man?”
“Yes. What’s so strange about that?”
“They’re always from a woman’s point of view.”
Avaria smiled. “You’d not think that so strange if you knew him. Here.” She handed over two books. “These are his best.”
Taking the two books, Tessia looked at the bookseller. “How much are they?”
“For you, twenty silver for the two,” he said.
She stared at him in astonishment. “Twenty silver? That’s more than a year’s wage for—”
Avaria laid a gloved hand on her arm and leaned close, her expression serious. “Those books are copied by hand. It takes weeks to make one. Books are expensive because they take time and paper – which is also time-consuming to make.”
Tessia looked down at the slim volumes. “Even something as, well, frivolous as this?”
Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 00] - The Magician's Apprentice Page 17
