Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 00] - The Magician's Apprentice

by Trudi Canavan

  Once through, they entered the palace greeting hall, which mirrored the one in Dakon’s Residence, but on a bigger, grander scale. Servants were meeting each visitor and directing them through an archway between the stairways on either side. Tessia saw that these stairways had been blocked by free-standing paper screens and beside each stood two guards.

  At the archway Everran repeated the names of the group to the servant who greeted them, then waved them through. As she moved into the room beyond Tessia felt her heart skip a beat.

  She had never seen a room this large. It could have contained the whole Residence, she suspected. Maybe two Residences. Slim stone columns in two rows helped to support the cavernous ceiling. Instead of lamps, floating globes of magical light illuminated the room.

  Enormous paintings and hangings covered the walls, but it was the people who caught Tessia’s attention. Hundreds of men, women and even some children milled about, in couples, families, small groups, and larger circles. All wore fashionable, expensive and, in some cases, extravagant clothing. Jewels glittered under the globe lights. As she followed the others into the room more people came into sight, while others were obscured. It’s like a landscape of people. As you move about your viewpoint changes, constantly offering a different vista containing something you haven’t seen before.

  Even as she thought this, the view changed again and a well-dressed man of Jayan’s age, surrounded by a half-circle of men, appeared. Her companions stopped and she realised they were all looking at the group.

  “That is King Errik,” Jayan murmured, leaning close.

  She nodded. As she watched, the young man looked up in their direction, his eyes skimming across their faces, then turned his attention back to the men beside him.

  “Well, he’s seen us,” Everran said, then turned to Dakon. “If he wants to talk to us he’ll summon us. In the meantime, you and I should talk to Lord Olleran.”

  Dakon nodded. As he and Everran began to move away, Jayan following, Avaria hooked her arm in Tessia’s.

  “Let them talk politics and trade on their own,” she whispered into Tessia’s ear. “I’ve just spotted Kendaria. Come on. This way.”

  Tessia swallowed her frustration and disappointment. While she was eager to talk to Kendaria again, once again she would be excluded from whatever business Dakon was undertaking. Surely it was part of what being a magician entailed, and therefore something she needed to know, no matter how boring. Besides, what Avaria found boring Tessia might find interesting. Or vice versa.

  Kendaria was watching a male acrobat performing graceful and impressive contortions. The young man was wearing loose trousers gathered tightly round ankles and waist, but his chest was bare and rippled with muscles. His performance was drawing a lot of female attention, Tessia noticed. Kendaria winked at her.

  “Wouldn’t mind dissecting that body,” she murmured. “I wonder if his joints would be any different from the usual cadaver’s? They’re so flexible.”

  “Kendaria!” Avaria scolded. “Don’t be so grotesque!”

  But Tessia couldn’t help looking at the acrobat in a different way, seeing the ribs pressing against the man’s skin and remembering what the inside of a chest cavity looked like – where the heart was positioned, and the spongy masses of the lungs. She had learned so much, and was hoping Kendaria would take her to more dissections before Dakon left Imardin.

  But Avaria was determined to head off any further anatomical conversation and soon the gossiping began in earnest as they were joined by Darya and Zakia. Time passed slowly. While Tessia listened politely, she watched the huge room filling with people and noted how the sound of voices grew exponentially as people needed to speak louder to be heard above the din. The acrobat left and a woman nearby began to sing, accompanied by a man plucking the strings of a strange box-like instrument he rested on one knee. Avaria’s friends began a detailed assessment of other women’s clothing, jewellery and romantic entanglements. Tessia found herself listening to the conversation of some men standing nearby.

  “– healer told him to stop, but he keeps on drinking and it’s only going to make him –”

  “– Sarrin said we should raise our prices, but I’m afraid it will –”

  “– Mandryn, I think, but –”

  The name of her village caught her attention, but the following comment was lost behind her companions’ laughter. She edged to the right, closer to the speaker and his listeners.

  “. . . sorry for... leys on the border. Wouldn’t want to be living there myself.”

  The reply was inaudible. “Oh, of course. Someone has to. Otherwise those bloodthirsty Sachakans would be even closer to us, wouldn’t they? Still, maybe they will be soon if what we’ve been hearing proves—”

  Suddenly the man’s voice quietened so that she could not hear it. Then Tessia noticed that the crowd around them was stirring. Heads had turned in one direction. Searching for the source of the distraction, she peered round Avaria’s shoulder.

  The king was walking towards them. He paused to speak to someone, then smiled and moved on, his gaze on Avaria and the other women.

  Tessia leaned close to her hostess’s ear. “Lady Avaria,” she murmured. “Look to your left.”

  The woman glanced idly in that direction, then turned back to Tessia. “The king?”

  “Yes. He’s coming this way.”

  “He was bound to eventually,” Avaria said, shrugging. “What with an attractive young new apprentice waiting to meet him.”

  Tessia’s heart lurched. “I’m not . . .” she began, then stopped. The king was close enough now to hear her. He wouldn’t be here just because of me, she told herself. Avaria is teasing me.

  He moved into the circle of women, smiling and speaking their names. For each he had a question, often an enquiry as to the health or trade of a relative. When he reached Tessia his smile widened and he moved across the circle to stand before her.

  “And you must be Apprentice Tessia, Lord Dakon’s new student.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” she replied, conscious that the other women had turned away and were moving off in pairs and trios. Even Avaria. Had the king made some signal that he wanted to talk to her privately?

  He watched her with alert eyes. I hope I don’t say anything wrong or do something against protocol. “You are a natural, is that right?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “It must seem a little frightening, perhaps bad luck, to discover your gift at the time and place you did.”

  Tessia frowned. Was he referring to her desire to become a healer? Surely he hadn’t heard about Takado . . . no, Dakon wouldn’t tell him that.

  “No,” she said slowly. “Well, it was frightening at the time. I didn’t know what I’d done. But later it was . . . exciting, I have to admit.”

  He paused, a line appearing between his brows then disappearing as he smiled again. “You are referring to using your power for the first time, not to living close to the border?”

  “Yes... but I suppose living close to the border has always been a little... worrying. Unless . . .” Her heart skipped. “Is there a special reason we should be concerned just now, your majesty?”

  He blinked, then an expression of realisation crossed his face. “Ah. I must apologise. I did not mean to suggest such a thing. To those of us who live in the city the idea of living on the border with Sachaka always seems frightening, but you must be used to it.”

  His tone was soothing and she suddenly knew, with certainty, that he was hiding something.

  “Is Sachaka likely to invade?” she asked bluntly, and immediately regretted it. He looked utterly taken aback. She began to apologise.

  “Don’t,” he said, cutting her off. “It is I who should apologise to you. I should have been more careful not to alarm you.” He moved to her side and took her arm, leading her slowly across the room. “There have been rumours,” he told her quietly. “Of a possible threat. No doubt you will hear of them whether
I tell you or not – it is hardly a secret here. But do not fear. No great armies await over the border. The concern is that a few disgruntled Sachakan magicians might decide to make trouble for the emperor.”

  “Oh,” she said, turning to stare at him. Even a few Sachakan magicians could do great damage in a village like Mandryn – especially with Dakon absent. “Is my village safe? My family?”

  He met her gaze, his own glance wary and searching. Then his expression softened into a smile.

  “It is safe. I assure you.”

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing her heart to stop racing.

  “That is a relief, your majesty,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Yes. It is. I’m sorry to have alarmed you with all this rumour-mongering. I’m afraid those of us who spend too much time in the city tend to gossip far too much without thought for the consequences, and that even I am guilty of the habit from time to time.”

  She smiled at his admission. “Lady Avaria did warn me not to take city gossip too seriously – but gossip and rumour may be quite different things.”

  He laughed, then turned to face her. “Indeed they are. Now, I have a message for you to pass on to Lord Dakon.” His expression became serious. “Tell him to meet me tomorrow at the training ground, an hour after midday.”

  She nodded. “Training ground. Hour after midday,” she repeated.

  He bowed, and she belatedly replied with the womanly dip that Avaria had taught her, hand modestly pressed to her chest. “Charming to meet you, Apprentice Tessia. I hope it will not be long before you visit Imardin again.”

  “I’m honoured and pleased to meet you, your majesty,” she replied.

  He smiled, then turned away. As he moved across the room a uniformed man strode forward to meet him.

  “How did it go?” a familiar and breathless voice spoke at her elbow.

  Tessia turned to look at Avaria. “Well. I think. Maybe. I have a message for Lord Dakon.”

  The woman nodded and smiled. “Then we’d better deliver it – discreetly, if we can.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The Royal Palace was quiet, yet Dakon detected hints of activity all around. He caught the faint sounds of footsteps from time to time, or the hushed murmur of voices. Servants flitted into view and then out again.

  The further his guide led him through the building, the more obvious the signs of activity became. He heard the sound of chopping and caught delicious aromas, and guessed he was near the kitchen. Then the neigh of a horse told him the stables were to his right. And finally the clang of metal against metal, and barked calls, warned him that he was nearing the training ground.

  The guide brought Dakon out of a cobbled road between two buildings into a wide, gravel-covered area. Two men stood several paces from each other. Dakon recognised both instantly: Magician Sabin and King Errik. Around them, at a safe distance of several paces, stood a handful of men, watching the combatants.

  Two were uniformed guards, whose role appeared to be to hold weapons. Two were servants, one carrying a bowl and towels, the other balancing a tray bearing a jug and several goblets. The other two men he recognised from the previous night as friends of the king, both from powerful families.

  The guide indicated that Dakon should stand next to the latter, then left. Dakon exchanged polite nods with the men, but when they turned back to the king without speaking he took the hint and remained silent.

  First the king, then Sabin, uttered a hoarse word which Dakon couldn’t make out, then began to advance on each other. Both were already sweaty, but neither was out of breath or tired. Watching them, Dakon thought back to the gathering the night before.

  It has to have been, aside from a few failed attempts at courting, one of the most frustrating nights of my life, he mused. The king had ignored them, and once even appeared to go out of his way to avoid them. This had been taken by some of the Circle’s detractors as an indication that Dakon and his host were out of favour. They had closed in like scavengers, their mockery carefully phrased in the politest of language. Everran appeared to enjoy the challenge, replying with equal slyness and wit. Dakon, knowing this was a game he couldn’t possibly win, stayed silent, took note of who their opponents appeared to be, and tried to guess if they were in earnest or playing along for the sake of politics.

  It was the ringleader, Lord Hakkin, who had intrigued Dakon the most. Though the man’s comments were by far the sharpest, he hadn’t delivered them with the conviction the others had. Yet at times he had almost sneered at his supporters’ jibes, repeating and embellishing them if they failed to be witty or cutting enough.

  By the time Dakon and the others climbed into the wagon to return to Everran’s home, he had been exhausted, despondent and angry.

  When Avaria had suggested to Tessia that it was now safe to deliver the king’s message, Dakon had barely heard. Poor Tessia had had to repeat it twice before he took it in.

  The training ground. An hour past midday. King Errik did want to meet him. Just not with several hundred witnesses. And that is something Jayan must be glad of, he thought. The apprentice had been uncharacteristically silent and nervous throughout the gathering. Eventually – perhaps too slowly – Dakon had worked out why. Among the detractors had been a man Dakon hadn’t seen in years – Jayan’s father, Karvelan of family Drayn.

  Jayan had said nothing about his visit to his father and Dakon had assumed that was simply because nothing of interest had been discussed. Now he could see the conflict the young man faced. He was caught between loyalty to his master and his powerful and wealthy family. Dakon knew how little Jayan thought of his family, and he was fairly sure he had his apprentice’s respect and even affection, but these things did not always matter in the face of money and politics.

  I bet old Karvelan wishes I’d hurry up and release his son. Then Dakon frowned. I wonder if Jayan wishes I would. It would free him to choose where his loyalties lie. But then, perhaps he’d rather have an excuse not to make that choice just now.

  A grunt of dismay brought his attention back to the fighters. Sabin and Errik were backing away from each other.

  “You win, again,” the king conceded with cheerful annoyance. Sabin bowed. Chuckling, the king handed his sword to one of the guards, then filled the goblet with clear water from the jug and downed it in one go. Then he took a towel and walked towards Dakon, wiping his brow as he came.

  “Lord Dakon of family Aylendin. What did you think?”

  “Of the fight, your majesty?” Dakon found himself searching for the appropriate response. He knew nothing about swordplay. “It was energetic.”

  “Would you like a bout?” Errik offered. “Me?” Dakon blinked in surprise. “I, ah, I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a good combatant.”

  “A bit rusty, eh?”

  “No. I’ve, er, never picked up a sword in my life,” Dakon admitted. The king’s eyebrows rose. “Never? What would you do, in a real war, if your magic ever ran out?”

  Dakon paused to consider it, then decided he’d rather not. “Cheat?”

  Errik laughed. “That’s not very honourable!”

  Dakon shrugged. “I’ve heard it said that real war isn’t particularly honourable.”

  “No.” The king’s smile faded. He turned and waved at the others. All bowed, then walked away. The guards took away the weapons, followed by Sabin. The courtiers vanished through a doorway but the servants took up positions by another door, still holding their burdens, but out of earshot. Within moments Dakon was virtually alone with the king.

  “So, Lord Dakon,” Errik said. “You want to know what I will do if the wayward, rebellious Sachakan magicians who are causing our neighbouring emperor so much irritation decide to begin their own little invasion of Kyralia.”

  Dakon met the king’s eyes and nodded. Sabin had warned him that the king preferred to be direct. Errik smiled crookedly, then sobered.

  “So does everyone else. I tell them exactly what I tell
you now: an attack on or invasion of any ley is an attack on or invasion of Kyralia. It is not to be tolerated.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Dakon said. “I’m getting the impression, however, that others would not be.”

  The king’s gaze flashed. “The trouble with Kyralians gathering together to support one cause is that other Kyralians then feel they must then gather together to oppose it. Not that I’m saying your Circle should not have formed.” He shrugged, though his expression remained serious. “Just that the consequences were unavoidable.”

  “Would they still oppose each other if a greater enemy appeared?” Dakon asked.

  “If they become too strongly opposed. There are plenty of examples of this happening in our history.”

  “So you can’t appear to support either side, or they may not join forces when needed.” Dakon nodded as he saw the king’s dilemma.

  The king’s gaze warmed with approval. “I am making sure I can defend my kingdom when and if the need arises.”

  Dakon resisted a smile. “Are your plans too great a secret to be shared with a humble country magician?”

  “Humble?” Errik rolled his eyes, then sighed and looked at Dakon levelly. “Not too secret. I will discuss some of them with you, and you must tell me if you see any flaws.”

  “I will do my best, your majesty.”

  “Good. Now, any Sachakans planning an attack will want to be sure they have the numbers to win. They don’t form alliances easily, however. Their numbers are likely to be small at first, so their target is likely to be too. Unfortunately we have plenty of small targets – the villages in border leys protected by one or two magicians, too far apart to be of any use to each other.

  “Evacuation is the only option in these leys,” he continued. “Once a ley falls it must be regained immediately. The Sachakans will be relying on news of their success to bring them more allies. We must counter this with news of their failure, as quickly as possible.”