Magician: Master

by Raymond E. Feist

  For the first few days of the journey, they had followed the highway from Jamar, northward to the city of Sulan-qu. The river Gagajin had carried a ceaseless clutter of boats and barges, while the highway was equally jammed with caravans, farmers’ carts, and nobles riding in litters.

  The Lord of the Shinzawai had departed the first day by boat for the Holy City, to attend the High Council. The household followed at a more leisurely pace. Hokanu paused outside the city of Sulan-qu long enough to pay a social call upon the Lady of the Acoma, and Pug and Laurie found the opportunity to gossip with another Midkemian slave, recently captured. The news of the war was disheartening. No change since the last they had heard; the stalemate continued.

  At the Holy City, the Lord of the Shinzawai joined his son and the retinue on its journey to the Shinzawai estates, outside the City of Silmani. From then, the trek northward had been uneventful.

  The Shinzawai caravan was approaching the boundaries of the family’s northern estates. Pug and Laurie had little to do along the way except occasional chores: dumping the cook pots, cleaning up needra droppings, loading and unloading supplies. Now they were riding on the back of a wagon, feet dangling over the rear. Laurie bit into a ripe jomach fruit, something like a large green pomegranate with the flesh of a watermelon. Spitting out seeds, he said, “How’s the hand?”

  Pug studied his right hand, examining the red puckered scar that ran across the palm. “It’s still stiff. I expect it’s as healed as it will ever be.”

  Laurie took a look. “Don’t think you’ll ever carry a sword again.” He grinned.

  Pug laughed. “I doubt you will either. I somehow don’t think they’ll be finding a place for you in the Imperial Horse Lance.”

  Laurie spat a burst of seeds, bouncing them off the nose of the needra who pulled the wagon behind them. The six-legged beast snorted, and the driver waved his steering stick angrily at them. “Except for the fact that the Emperor doesn’t have any lancers, due to the fact that he also doesn’t have any horses, I can’t think of a finer choice.”

  Pug laughed derisively.

  “I’ll have you know, fella-me-lad,” said Laurie in aristocratic tones, “that we troubadours are often beset by a less savory sort of customer, brigands and cutthroats seeking our hard-earned wages—scant though they may be. If one doesn’t develop the ability to defend oneself, one doesn’t stay in business, if you catch my meaning.”

  Pug smiled. He knew that a troubadour was nearly sacrosanct in a town, for should he be harmed or robbed, word would spread, and no other would ever come there again. But on the road it was a different matter. He had no doubt of Laurie’s ability to take care of himself, but wasn’t about to let him use that pompous tone and sit without a rejoinder. As he was about to speak, though, he was cut off by shouts coming from the front of the caravan. Guards came rushing forward, and Laurie turned to his shorter companion. “What do you suppose that is all about?”

  Not waiting for an answer, he jumped down and ran forward. Pug followed. As they reached the head of the caravan, behind the Lord of the Shinzawai’s litter, they could see shapes advancing up the road toward them. Laurie grabbed Pug’s sleeve. “Riders!”

  Pug could scarcely believe his eyes, for indeed it appeared that riders were approaching along the road from the Shinzawai manor. As they got closer, he could see that, rather than riders, there was one horseman and three cho-ja, all three a rich dark blue color.

  The rider, a young brown-haired Tsurani, taller than most, dismounted. His movement was clumsy, and Laurie observed, “They will never pose any military threat if that’s the best seat they can keep. Look, there is no saddle, nor bridle, only a rude hackamore fashioned from leather straps. And the poor horse looks like it hasn’t been properly groomed for a month.”

  The curtain of the litter was pulled back as the rider approached. The slaves put the litter down, and the Lord of the Shinzawai got out. Hokanu had reached his father’s side, from his place among the guards at the rear of the caravan, and was embracing the rider, exchanging greetings. The rider then embraced the Lord of the Shinzawai. Pug and Laurie could hear the rider say, “Father! It is good to see you.”

  The Shinzawai lord said, “Kasumi! It is good to see my firstborn son. When did you return?”

  “Less than a week ago. I would have come to Jamar, but I heard that you were due here, so I waited.”

  “I am glad. Who are these with you?” He indicated the creatures.

  “This,” he said, pointing to the foremost, “is Strike Leader X’calak, back from fighting the short ones under the mountains on Midkemia.”

  The creature stepped forward and raised his right hand—very humanlike—in salute, and in a high, piping voice said, “Hail, Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai. Honors to your house.”

  The Lord of the Shinzawai bowed slightly from the waist. “Greetings, X’calak. Honors to your hive. The cho-ja are always welcome guests.”

  The creature stepped back and waited. The lord turned to look at the horse. “What is this upon which you sit, my son?”

  “A horse, Father. A creature the barbarians ride into battle. I’ve told you of them before. It is a truly marvelous creature. On its back I can run faster than the swiftest cho-ja runner.”

  “How do you stay on?”

  The older Shinzawai son laughed. “With great difficulty, I’m afraid. The barbarians have tricks to it I have yet to learn.”

  Hokanu smiled. “Perhaps we can arrange for lessons.”

  Kasumi slapped him playfully on the back. “I have asked several barbarians, but unfortunately they were all dead.”

  “I have two here who are not.”

  Kasumi looked past his brother and saw Laurie, standing a full head taller than the other slaves who had gathered around. “So I see. Well, we must ask him. Father, with your permission, I will ride back to the house and have all made ready for your homecoming.”

  Kamatsu embraced his son and agreed. The older son grabbed a handful of mane, and with an athletic leap, remounted. With a wave, he rode off.

  Pug and Laurie quickly returned to their places on the wagon. Laurie asked, “Have you seen the like of those things before?”

  Pug nodded. “Yes. The Tsurani call them the cho-ja. They live in large hive mounds, like ants. The Tsurani slaves I spoke with in the camp tell me they have been around as long as can be remembered. They are loyal to the Empire, though I seem to remember someone saying that each hive has its own queen.”

  Laurie peered around the front of the wagon, hanging on with one hand. “I wouldn’t like to face one on foot. Look at the way they run.”

  Pug said nothing. The older Shinzawai son’s remark about the short ones under the mountain brought back old memories. If Tomas is alive, he thought, he is a man now. If he is alive.

  —

  THE SHINZAWAI MANOR was huge. It was easily the biggest single building—short of temples and palaces—that Pug had seen. It sat atop a hill, commanding a view of the countryside for miles. The house was square, like the one in Jamar, but several times the size. The town house could easily have fit inside this one’s central garden. Behind it were the outbuildings, cookhouse, and slave quarters.

  Pug craned his neck to take in the garden, for they were walking quickly through, and there was little time to absorb all of it. The hadonra, Septiem, scolded him. “Don’t tarry.”

  Pug quickened his step and fell in beside Laurie. Still, on a brief viewing, the garden was impressive. Several shade trees had been planted beside three pools that sat in the midst of miniature trees and flowering plants. Stone benches had been placed for contemplative rest, and paths of fine pebble gravel wandered throughout. Around this tiny park the building rose, three stories tall. The top two stories had balconies, and several staircases rose to connect them. Servants could be seen hurrying along the upper levels, but there appeared to be no one else in the garden, or at least that portion they had crossed.

  They reached a sli
ding door, and Septiem turned to face them. In stern tones he said, “You two barbarians will watch your manners before the lords of this house, or by the gods, I’ll have every inch of skin off your backs. Now make sure you do all that I’ve told you, or you’ll wish that Master Hokanu had left you to rot in the swamps.”

  He slid the door to one side and announced the slaves. The command for them to enter was given, and Septiem shooed them inside. They found themselves in a colorfully lit room, the light coming through the large translucent door covered with a painting. On the walls hung carvings, tapestries, and paintings, all done in fine style, small and delicate. The floor was covered, in Tsurani fashion, with a thick pile of cushions. Upon a large cushion Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai, sat; across from him were his two sons. All were dressed in the short robes of expensive fabric and cut they used when off duty. Pug and Laurie stood with their eyes downcast until they were spoken to.

  Hokanu spoke first. “The blond giant is called Loh-’re, and the more normal-sized one is Poog.”

  Laurie started to open his mouth, but a quick elbow from Pug silenced him before he could speak.

  The older son noticed the exchange, and said, “You would speak?”

  Laurie looked up, then quickly down again. The instructions had been clear: not to speak until commanded to. Laurie wasn’t sure the question was a command.

  The lord of the house said, “Speak.”

  Laurie looked at Kasumi. “I am Laurie, master. Lor-ee. And my friend is Pug, not Poog.”

  Hokanu looked taken aback at being corrected, but the older brother nodded and pronounced the names several times over, until he spoke them correctly. He then said, “Have you ridden horses?”

  Both slaves nodded. Kasumi said, “Good. Then you can show me the best way.”

  Pug’s gaze wandered as much as was possible with his head down, but something caught his eye. Next to the Lord of the Shinzawai sat a game board and what looked like familiar figures. Kamatsu noticed and said, “You know this game?” He reached over and brought the board forward, so that it lay before him.

  Pug said, “Master, I know the game. We call it chess.”

  Hokanu looked at his brother, who leaned forward. “As several have said, Father, there has been contact with the barbarians before.”

  His father waved away the comment. “It is a theory.” To Pug he said, “Sit here and show me how the pieces move.”

  Pug sat and tried to remember what Kulgan had taught him. He had been an indifferent student of the game, but knew a few basic openings. He moved a pawn forward and said, “This piece may move forward only one space, except when it is first moved, master. Then it may move two.” The lord of the house nodded, motioning that he should continue. “This piece is a knight and moves like so,” said Pug.

  After he had demonstrated the moves of the various pieces, the Lord of the Shinzawai said, “We call this game shāh. The pieces are called by different names, but it is the same. Come, we will play.”

  Kamatsu gave the white pieces to Pug. He opened with a conventional king’s pawn move, and Kamatsu countered. Pug played badly and was quickly beaten. The others watched the entire game without a sound. When it was over, the lord said, “Do you play well, among your people?”

  “No, master. I play poorly.”

  He smiled, his eyes wrinkling at the edges. “Then I would guess that your people are not as barbarous as is commonly held. We will play again soon.”

  He nodded to his older son, and Kasumi rose. Bowing to his father, he said to Pug and Laurie, “Come.”

  They bowed to the lord of the house and followed Kasumi out of the room. He led them through the house, to a smaller room with sleeping pallets and cushions. “You will sleep here. My room is next door. I would have you at hand at all times.”

  Laurie spoke up boldly. “What does the master want of us?”

  Kasumi regarded him for a moment. “You barbarians will never make good slaves. You forget your place too often.”

  Laurie started to stammer an apology but was cut off. “It is of little matter. You are to teach me things, Laurie. You will teach me to ride, and how to speak your language. Both of you. I would learn what those”—he paused, then made a flat, nasal wa-wa-wa sound—“noises mean when you speak to each other.”

  Further conversation was cut off by the sound of a single chime that reverberated throughout the house. Kasumi said, “A Great One comes. Stay in your rooms. I must go to welcome him with my father.” He hurried off, leaving the two Midkemians to sit in their new quarters wondering at this newest twist in their lives.

  —

  TWICE DURING THE following two days, Pug and Laurie glimpsed the Shinzawai’s important visitor. He was much like the Shinzawai lord in appearance, but thinner, and he wore the black robe of a Tsurani Great One. Pug asked a few questions of the house staff and gained a little information. Pug and Laurie had seen nothing that compared with the awe in which the Great Ones were held by the Tsurani. They seemed a power apart, and with what little understanding of Tsurani social reality Pug had, he couldn’t exactly comprehend how they fit into the scheme of things. At first he had thought they were under some social stigma, for all he was ever told was that the Great Ones were “outside the law.” He then was made to understand, by an exasperated Tsurani slave who couldn’t believe Pug’s ignorance of important matters, that the Great Ones had little or no social constraints in exchange for some nameless service to the Empire.

  Pug had made a discovery during this time that lightened the alien feeling of his captivity somewhat. Behind the needra pens he had found a kennel full of yapping, tail-wagging dogs. They were the only Midkemian-like animals he had seen on Kelewan, and he felt an unexplained joy at their presence. He had rushed back to their room to fetch Laurie and had brought him to the kennel. Now they sat in one of the runs, amid a group of playful canines.

  Laurie laughed at their boisterous play. They were unlike the Duke’s hunting hounds, being longer of leg, and more gaunt. Their ears were pointed, and perked at every sound.

  “I’ve seen their like before, in Gulbi. It’s a town in the Great Northern Trade Route of Kesh. They are called greyhounds and are used to run down the fast cats and antelope of the grasslands near the Valley of the Sun.”

  The kennel master, a thin, droopy-eyelidded slave named Rachmad, came over and watched them suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

  Laurie regarded the dour man and playfully pulled the muzzle of a rambunctious puppy. “We haven’t seen dogs since we left our homeland, Rachmad. Our master is busy with the Great One, so we thought we would visit your fine kennel.”

  At mention of his “fine kennel” the gloomy countenance brightened considerably. “I try to keep the dogs healthy. We must keep them locked up, for they try to harry the cho-ja, who like them not at all.” For a moment Pug thought perhaps they had been taken from Midkemia as the horse had been. When he asked where they had come from, Rachmad looked at him as if he were crazy. “You speak like you have been too long in the sun. There have always been dogs.” With that final pronouncement on the matter, he judged the conversation closed and left.

  —

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Pug awoke to find Laurie entering their room. “Where have you been?”

  “Shh! You want to wake the whole household? Go back to sleep.”

  “Where did you go?” Pug asked in hushed tones.

  Laurie could be seen grinning in the dim light. “I paid a visit to a certain cook’s assistant, for…a chat.”

  “Oh. Almorella?”

  “Yes,” came the cheerful reply. “She’s quite a girl.” The young slave who served in the kitchen had been making big eyes at Laurie ever since the caravan had arrived four days ago.

  After a moment of silence, Laurie said, “You should cultivate a few friends yourself. Gives a whole new look to things.”

  “I’ll bet,” Pug said, disapproval mixed with more than a little envy. Almorella was a bright
and cheerful girl, near Pug’s age, with merry dark eyes.

  “That little Katala, now. She has her eye on you, I’m thinking.”

  Cheeks burning, Pug threw a cushion at his friend. “Oh, shut up and go to sleep.”

  Laurie stifled a laugh. He retired to his pallet and left Pug alone in thought.

  —

  THERE WAS THE faint promise of rain on the wind, and Pug welcomed the coolness he felt in its touch. Laurie was sitting astride Kasumi’s horse, and the young officer stood by and watched. Laurie had directed Tsurani craftsmen as they fashioned a saddle and bridle for the mount and was now demonstrating their use.

  “This horse is combat trained,” Laurie shouted. “He can be neck reined”—he demonstrated by laying the reins on one side of the horse’s neck, then the other—“or he can be turned by using your legs.” He raised his hands and showed the older son of the house how this was done.

  For three weeks they had been instructing the young noble in riding, and he had shown natural ability, Laurie jumped from the horse, and Kasumi took his place. The Tsurani rode roughly at first, the saddle feeling strange under him. As he bounced by, Pug called out, “Master, grip him firmly with your lower leg!” The horse sensed the pressure and picked up a quick trot. Rather than be troubled by the increase in speed, Kasumi looked enraptured. “Keep your heels down!” shouted Pug. Then, without instructions from either slave, Kasumi kicked the horse hard in the sides and had the animal running over the fields.

  Laurie watched him vanish across the meadow and said, “He’s either a natural horseman or he’s going to kill himself.”

  Pug nodded. “I think he’s got the knack. He’s certainly not lacking courage.”

  Laurie pulled up a long stem of grass from the ground and put it between his teeth. He hunkered down and scratched the ear of a bitch who lay at his feet, as much to distract the dog from running after the horse as to play with her. She rolled over on her back and playfully chewed his hand.