“No, mistress.”
Stara sighed again. It had taken Vora some days to talk Stara into leaving her room. Stara wouldn’t admit it to her slave, but she was afraid of encountering her father. Vora kept badgering her, and in the end Stara had agreed out of disgust at herself for letting him turn her into a coward. Though she imagined it would be difficult to talk him into sending her home, it would be impossible if she never encountered him again.
A curious smell had entered the air. It wasn’t unpleasant, or sickly sweet like the fragrances Sachakans preferred. Vora led Stara into a curved corridor. Arched windows on the inside wall opened onto a mass of green. Stara stopped, surprised to see so much plant life before her.
As she moved to one of the windows she realised that the garden on the other side was enclosed within a circular room, whose roof was a segmented circle of woven fabric stretched between metal hooks fixed in the walls.
“Yes, this is rather nice – and unexpected,” she said aloud.
Vora chuckled. As the woman moved to a doorway into the garden, Stara considered the slave. I’m almost sure she likes me. I hope so. I’ve come to like her, and it would be a shame if it wasn’t mutual.
She still couldn’t bring herself to treat Vora as anything less than a servant. The woman’s bossy manner hardly emphasised her slave status, either. I probably trust her more than I should, Stara thought. If her descriptions of Sachakan politics and intrigue aren’t exaggerated then I should consider the possibility that an enemy might recruit her to poison me or something. One of Father’s enemies, more like it...or Father himself. She shivered. But he wouldn’t do that. Even if only because Mother would refuse to send her profits to him any more. Still...if she never knew it was him...I should think of something else.
A small stone-lined creek wound across the garden, crossed by a bridge at the centre. At the far end water emerged through a pipe protruding from the wall. It was so pleasant that Stara was disappointed when Vora led her across the corridor and into an empty room. Here the walls were lined with grey stone.
“So the walls aren’t all wh—” Stara began, but stopped as Vora indicated she should remain silent.
Intrigued, Stara followed the slave to a wooden doorway on the other side of the room. Vora stopped and beckoned for Stara to come nearer. The faint sound of music filtered through the door. Stara looked at Vora in surprise. She hadn’t heard any music since coming to Sachaka. The woman smiled and repeated her gesture for silence.
Stara listened. The musician was playing a stringed instrument she was more used to hearing in the homes of rich Elynes. And the musician was good. Very good. As the player shifted from one tune to another, sometimes repeating a phrase to fix a mistake or alter the speed, Stara grew more impressed. Finally she could not stand the suspense any longer. She moved away from the door.
“Who is it?” she whispered to Vora.
The woman’s smile widened. “Master Ikaro.”
Stara straightened in shock. “My brother?”
“Yes, mistress. I told you. He is not who you think he is.”
“How did he learn to play like that?”
“Listening. Practising.” Vora’s smile faced. “When Master Sokara found out he smashed Master Ikaro’s first vyer. I don’t know how your brother managed to get hold of another. He won’t tell me, for fear your father will read my mind.”
Stara looked at Vora, then at the door, unable to reconcile the picture she’d created in her mind of a handsome young vyer player come to make her prison more bearable with that of her memory of a hard-faced young man who thought women were useless.
“You two have more in common than you realise,” Vora said firmly. “You should be allies.”
Stara looked at the woman again, then stepped past her and pushed through the door.
“Wait, mistress!” Vora exclaimed. “It’s a—”
Bathing room, Stara finished as she took in the scene before her. A man sat at the edge of a pool of steaming water, naked except for a length of cloth draped over his lap. He was staring at her in horror. She looked down at the large hump in the cloth.
“Did you really think you could hide it under that?” she blurted out. “Surely you could have come up with a better plan. And you do know that playing in damp air could ruin a vyer, don’t you?”
Ikaro’s gaze slid away from her to somewhere behind her left shoulder, the surprise in his face changing to annoyance.
“Vora,” he said disapprovingly, but with no great force. “I told you not to meddle.”
“As you’ve always said, Master Ikaro, I’m not very good at obeying orders I don’t like,” the woman replied. She moved to Stara’s side. “Though I wasn’t expecting your sister to take my advice so literally.”
Stara looked at her and shrugged. “Well, I’m here now. You want us to talk?” She looked at Ikaro and crossed her arms. “Then let’s talk.”
He gave her an unreadable look, then slid the vyer out from under the cloth and put it gently aside. Then he tied the fabric around his waist, retrieved the vyer and stood up. “There are better places than this,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. “Places where we can still talk privately, but much drier.”
They moved down the room beside the pool to a door at the far end. The next room was smaller, with stone benches on either side. A neat pile of clothes lay on one. Ikaro indicated the women should continue to the next room, which was an ordinary, white-walled one with a few chairs and tables. He did not follow immediately, but appeared a moment later fully dressed. And not carrying the vyer, Stara noted. Where in those stone-lined rooms was he keeping it?
I suppose if it’s always kept in a moist place, and never dries out too fast, it shouldn’t split.
Still silent, he led them into a corridor then out into a walled courtyard. Potted plants shaded the area and a fountain in the centre filled the air with the constant patter of water. They sat at the edge of the pool.
Ah, yes. The old fountain trick. Hides the sound of voices. Good to know Elynes aren’t the only ones who do this.
“We can talk safely here,” he told them.
“None of the slaves are mouth-readers, then.”
He looked at her oddly.
“Mouth-reading,” she explained. “The trick of reading what someone is saying by the movements of their lips.”
“I had no idea anyone could do that,” he admitted, glancing nervously around the courtyard. Then he shrugged and turned back to her. “So what would you like to talk about?”
She searched for any sign of the aloof, cold man who had ignored her at the dinner a few weeks back. He looked a little anxious, but there was no animosity or distance in his face. He almost seemed a different person.
“Vora tells me you’re not like the person I thought I knew,” she told him, deciding to be blunt. “But you barely looked at me the one time I’ve seen you since I arrived.”
He grimaced and nodded. “I wasn’t to show any feeling towards you, good or bad, or it might affect the outcome.”
“It might put my prospective husband off?”
“Yes.”
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “I might have wanted him put off. But, of course, what my father wanted was more important than what I wanted.”
His eyes were dark and haunted as he nodded and met her eyes. “There is not much point resisting him.”
She looked back towards where she thought the bath was situated. “You don’t seem to be giving up.”
“A small victory that could be lost at any moment, any day. The larger issues . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ve been so jealous of you, living with Mother and able to do whatever you wanted.”
Stara stared at him. “You were jealous of me? I thought you... You said women weren’t important and I figured that had to include me. Why would you have given me any thought at all?”
“I was sixteen when I said that, Stara,” he chided her quietly. “You can’t hold an
yone responsible for the opinions they form at that age, especially growing up in this place. Everything is at the extreme here. There is no middle ground. When I met my wife I learned that things weren’t that simple.”
“I was jealous of you,” she told him. “All my life I worked towards learning what I thought I’d need to know when Father finally called me home.” She clenched her fists. “And when he did it turned out all he wanted was to marry me off like a piece of stock.”
Ikaro chuckled. “He was furious that you’d learned magic. Nachira and I laughed so hard when I told her. You must meet her – you’d like her. I know she wants to meet you. How did you manage to learn and keep it a secret?”
She shrugged. “Friends in Elyne. Mother wouldn’t let me become an apprentice, and I didn’t want to leave her to do all the work alone. So I learned from a friend and from books.”
“Father said you’d lacked any good training. I took that to mean you didn’t know higher magic.”
She held his gaze for a moment, then looked away. “You’ve been to Elyne. You know the laws.”
“All magicians are bound by some oath before they’re allowed to learn higher magic, right?”
“Yes. My friend said she wouldn’t teach me higher magic, because it was a law she respected. Not that I resent her for it.” She shrugged. “What I had learned was precious enough. Do any Sachakan women learn magic?”
He nodded. “Sometimes. Usually because they’re the only heir to a magician’s property, but there are tales of husbands who foolishly taught their wives and came to regret it, or of women who received training in exchange for some favour.”
“Does it really mean no one will marry them?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t want to be married.”
“Just not to someone I don’t know and like.”
“I see.” He looked away, frowning. Stara looked at Vora. The woman was watching him closely, her face creased with worry.
“Having magic doesn’t make a woman unmarriageable, but it is unlikely anyone of high status would take her.” He looked up at her quickly. “Father has chosen someone of lower status than he wanted. That’s all I know.”
“He’s chosen . . .” Stara echoed. A chill ran across her skin.
Ikaro frowned. “You didn’t know?”
“I thought...I hoped he’d given up on the idea and...I hoped he would send me home.”
He shook his head and looked away again. “No, he’s accepted the man’s proposal.”
Standing up, she began to pace in a small circle. “Do I get any say in this?” She looked at him and saw the apology in his expression as he began to answer. “No. I know.” She cursed. “What can I do? Run away? Tell him that if he marries me off against my will I’ll make sure I never have a child?”
Ikaro winced, a reaction that made her stop pacing and consider him. Father said his wife couldn’t bear children. He’s been married a few years now. From the sound of it, he likes and respects his wife. But if she’s infertile... and Father said he needed an heir. To prevent the emperor from gaining the family assets when Ikaro dies.
“Tell her,” Vora said, her voice low and urgent.
Ikaro put his head in his hands, then straightened again. “If you don’t bear a child, Father will make sure I do. By freeing me to try another wife.”
Stara stared at him as the meaning behind his words sank in. He’ll murder Nachira. That’s why Ikaro winced. He loves Nachira. He needs me to have a child in order to give Father no reason to murder her. A wave of horror swept over her. Someone get me out of this country!
But if someone did, Nachira would still die. Though she had never met the woman, Stara knew she would always feel responsible if something she had done – or hadn’t done – had led to someone’s death.
Was she willing to marry a stranger and bear his children to avoid that?
Is there any chance I’d make it out of Sachaka, anyway? Father can still have me marry whoever he’s picked, whether I want it or not. I get no say in it.
“So Father is willing to have Nachira murdered just so the emperor won’t get the family assets?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “He must really dislike the emperor.”
“It’s more a matter of pride for him,” Ikaro told her. “It’s certainly not a concern for me, but for the fact that if I die first Nachira will have no money or home.”
He looked guilty but his eyes pleaded with her.
“I know I’m asking you to do something you don’t want to do and I wish there was another way. If there was something I could give you in return, I would, but I know the things you want most are the ones that would still lead to... still leave her...”
Taking in a deep breath, Stara let it out slowly. “Sounds as if I need to meet Nachira.”
Ikaro’s eyes brightened. “You’ll like her.”
“So you said before. I won’t agree to anything until I’ve had time to think about it.” She paused as an idea came to her. “When you said you would give me something in return . . .”
He hesitated, frowned, then smiled. “If I can give it, I will.”
“Teach me higher magic.”
Again she saw surprise, concern, then amusement. Then he began to nod. “I will have to think about it, too. And ask Nachira. She often sees consequences where I don’t.”
“Of course,” she said. Looking at Vora, she saw the woman was smiling broadly. “What are you looking so smug about, Vora?”
The woman’s eyes widened in an unconvincingly innocent look. “I am a mere slave, mistress, and have nothing to be smug about.”
To Stara’s amusement, Ikaro rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why Father doesn’t sell you, Vora.”
“Because I am so good at keeping his children in line.” She rose and took a step away from the fountain. “Come now, mistress. Too much exposure to the sun will age you before your time.”
As they began to walk away from the fountain, Ikaro called out quietly.
“We can’t take too long to decide, Stara. There are rumours about that Emperor Vochira may go to war with Kyralia. If Father sends me off to fight I won’t be able to protect or teach anybody.”
Stara looked back and met his gaze, nodding soberly. Then she followed Vora back into the mansion, her thoughts turning slowly but ceaselessly with the choices she now faced.
CHAPTER 29
It came as a relief to Tessia, the next morning, to learn that the magicians had decided to move on to the next town. Vennea was a larger town on the border of two leys and, being on the main road to the pass, was a good place to base themselves for a few days. Sabin wanted to send out more scouts and locate the rest of the Sachakans before he and Werrin decided on their next move.
Tecurren was a town in mourning, which was too sharp a reminder of the fate of Mandryn and her parents. The survivors had begun to behave strangely towards the magicians. Their fascination and gratitude had only increased after the magicians took the strength they’d offered (though not from the girls, as Tessia advised). Some began following them around. All agreed it was time to leave and let them begin rebuilding their lives.
The road to Vennea descended in graceful curves along the sides of a widening valley. The forests around Tecurren had been patchy, held back by the spread of fields and relegated to a narrow band of trees hugging rivers and creeks. Now the group descended into a near-treeless landscape, giving them a clear view of fields, clusters of tiny houses, a river and the shiny surfaces of lakes and reservoirs.
As a horse drew alongside Tessia, she glanced up and saw that Lady Avaria was riding beside her. The woman smiled.
“How are you getting along, Tessia?”
“Well enough.”
“I was saddened to hear about your parents, and the people of Mandryn.”
Tessia felt something inside spasm as grief suddenly sprang to life again. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and resolutely pushed
the feeling away.
“The girls all send their greetings – especially Kendaria. She wanted to come with me and try out her healing skills, but doubted the guild or the magicians would let her.”
Tessia grimaced. “I’m not sure it would be what she expected. I’ve been failing to heal more often than succeeding. We don’t have the time to treat serious injuries. I don’t know if she’s experienced being unable to save a patient. It’s shocking the first time.”
Avaria frowned. “Sounds as if the king ought to be sending a few healers to join this group. Lessen the burden on you.”
“We haven’t needed them so far. The Sachakans don’t tend to leave their victims alive. But if there are more attempts to take over villages there will be more people with injuries from houses falling down and fires.”
“Let’s hope the war never escalates to the point where Kendaria has a chance to try out her skills. Though I imagine you’d have liked her company. Any womanly company. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you travelling with all these men.”
Tessia smiled. “It has been interesting.” She looked at Dakon and Jayan, and the other magicians and apprentices ahead of them. “You know, I’m glad there’s another woman now, but when I think about it I wonder why. I’ve spent all this time acting as if it doesn’t matter that I’m female. I’m living as roughly as the boys – though I do get a tent all to myself – eating the same food and even dressing the same. Oh, I do have some physical requirements different from theirs, but it’s not as if I haven’t been dealing with that by myself for years already. A bit of extra privacy is all that I’ve needed.”
Avaria glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. “You must tell me the arrangements you’ve made. I’ve been wondering what I’ll do when... when that time of womanly inconvenience comes.”
“Magic makes it easier, of course. Think how badly we’d all smell by now if we weren’t able to wash our clothes because we didn’t have time for them to dry.”
Avaria chuckled. “I’m surprised your clothes haven’t turned to rags in the process.”
“We’ve bought or been given new clothes and shoes in the villages. Not always to the taste of some, but I think even the fussiest of us has had to acknowledge that fine cloth doesn’t last long when you’re riding every day.”
Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 00] - The Magician's Apprentice Page 35
