The eighth ascension? This would mean she had been in the Order for a very long time. Some Thaumas—most, in fact—didn’t make it beyond the fourth. This had to be a deception; a trick to gather information. She was a Ralmarstad cleric, a loyal servant to the Archbishop. And a foul beast of a person.
“You should just kill me,” Mariyah said. “I won’t be deceived.”
“Thankfully, your trust isn’t required,” she replied, leaning back and folding her hands in her lap. “I will deliver you to Felistal. He can deal with you from there. I have other business that needs attending.”
“Like wrongly accusing people of murder? Sentencing old men to death? That sort of business?”
“I understand why you’re angry,” she said.
“Shut your mouth!” Mariyah snapped hotly, struggling futilely against the binding charm. “You have no idea what you put me through.”
“Don’t I? You think it was easy for me to do those things?”
Mariyah sniffed. “You enjoyed it. I could see it in your eyes.”
“You saw what you were meant to see. What everyone was meant to see. Had I shown you and your companion kindness, or had I not behaved precisely as expected by the others, I would have been revealed as a spy. Think of me what you will, I was not and am not willing to sacrifice my life and the lives of those I care about for you. I had a role to play, and I played it. If you disapprove, I don’t care.”
Mariyah was reminded of Loria’s attitude when she had been brought to the manor. Cold. Determined. Unapologetic. None of this, however, diminished her hatred. “Let me out of these bindings and we’ll see how much you care.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a problem with your temper? And if you were wondering, your guard is unharmed. As is your carriage driver.”
Mariyah felt a stab of guilt for not asking. But her rage was clouding her mind. “I wish she’d slit your throat.”
“She nearly did. But I think she wanted to let you have the pleasure. Good thing … for both of us. Felistal wouldn’t be pleased had you killed me.”
“I barely know him,” she said. “I couldn’t care less what pleases him.”
Aylana clicked her tongue. “You need to learn self-control, child. There’s a war coming, and right soon. Fury is good, but only when tempered by discipline. I did what I did. Nothing can change that. Your pain and my guilt will not halt the storm.”
“Guilt? You expect me to believe you feel guilty?”
Aylana shrugged. “I suppose not. Were I in your position, I doubt I’d believe me. But it makes no difference. The situation is beyond your control for the moment.” She met Mariyah’s eyes. “I would like to point out, however, that you have a great deal of power. More than enough to have vanquished me, given that I was caught unaware. Still, you failed because you were blinded by emotion.” She nodded at Mariyah’s bound and trembling hands. “Look at yourself. A clever person would pretend to be too terrified to fight back, to give their captor a false sense of security. But instead you show me your defiance.”
Mariyah glared, but said nothing. The only words that came to mind were curses and insults. And, of course, screams. Aylana had hit the mark. She was behaving stupidly. It took a few moments to drive back the rage enough to speak calmly. “How do I know you are who you say you are?”
“You don’t. But then as I have no reason to lie, and you can do nothing, what difference does it make?”
She was right, though Mariyah was loath to admit it. “How did you know I was going to the enclave?”
“That pretty young guard of yours told me.” She held up a hand, and added: “Not of her own free will. I used a truth stone. So there’s no reason to loose your anger on her.” She let slip a soft sigh. “A pity. Lovely girl, if a bit provincial and rough.”
Even the woman’s casual musings enraged Mariyah. But if she were telling the truth … would it make a difference? She had forgiven Loria for holding her as an indenture. But with Loria, it had been a ruse to deceive the nobility. There was never any real danger of being turned over to the authorities should Mariyah had wanted to leave. But Aylana had knowingly and willingly cast her and Shemi into a waking nightmare.
“Did you know I would be sent to Loria?”
“I suppose I should say yes,” Aylana replied. “But I am utterly sick of lies. I did not know where you’d be sent. I did do my best to have the other one placed in a prison for the elderly. But whether that happened or not, I couldn’t say. At the time, I was teetering on the edge of being discovered; hence my haste in securing your confession.” She cracked a smile. This time it was genuine. “I am glad to see that Lady Camdon freed you. Though she should be more careful. The church suspects that she opposes the practice of indenture. Not that it will matter what the church knows. Soon enough, nothing will matter.”
“What has happened?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“For all I know, you’re a spy.” Aylana laughed at her own words. “Ironic, yes? So you’ll have to learn of it from Felistal, if he wants to tell you.”
“I know about Belkar,” she said. “I’ve seen him.”
Now it was Aylana’s turn to be angry. “Quiet, girl,” she hissed. “What the hell is the matter with you? Are you thick? Never mention his name unless you know who you’re speaking to. You don’t know me. I could be his servant.”
Mariyah was flummoxed by her reaction, but quickly recovered. “I’ll speak it to whomever I like.” It gave her an odd sensation of pleasure to know that she’d upset her former tormentor. “I’ve seen him. And I’ve seen the armies that are coming for us.” She should not have revealed this, she knew. But the fear that it produced in Aylana’s eyes was too satisfying to resist. “I’ve seen what he intends to do to everyone in Lamoria. So don’t think for a moment you have secrets that are so precious I can’t know them.”
“I don’t want to know what you know. And if Loria Camdon has placed her trust in you…” Aylana lowered her head and calmed her breathing. “You should not tell people about Belkar. Not even when we get to the enclave. The Thaumas survive by keeping our intentions hidden and our enemies blind.” She looked up, this time appearing almost pained. “If you think the fate you suffered was terrible, you are mistaken. You’re here, and you’re still alive. To keep this world from falling into darkness, I have ordered the death of dozens of innocents.” She leaned in closer. “My sins will not be in vain. So speak another word about Belkar and I’ll add the weight of one more death to my soul. And Felistal’s wrath be damned.”
Mariyah tried not to be shaken, but could see the resolve in her eyes and hear the steel in her voice. She was not lying. Still, Mariyah would not be the one to look away and did not sit back until Aylana turned her head with a disgusted sneer.
For hours they rode in silence, Aylana dozing for most of the time. Mariyah tried to see outside the window, but the shades were pulled half shut, obscuring her line of sight. She had a general idea of where the enclave was located, but was to have met a guide to show her its precise location.
In the midafternoon, the air thickened and the light sifting inside the carriage dimmed. Aylana stirred, stretching and yawning before producing a small knife from beneath her seat. Mariyah felt the carriage tilt forward, and the echo of the horse’s hooves told her that they had entered a tunnel. A few minutes later, the pitch of the carriage leveled off, and they emerged back into the sunlight.
A short time later, the carriage slowed, and Aylana threw back the shades. All Mariyah could see was a curved wall hewn from a dark stone several yards away. The driver clicked his tongue and turned left, and then drew to a halt.
Mariyah held out her hands. “If you don’t mind.”
Aylana chuckled. “Not until I’m well away from you, my dear. And so you know, the enclave is protected. You cannot use magic to harm anyone here.”
The door opened, and a hand reached in to st
eady Aylana’s exit. A moment later, Mariyah felt the binding spell dissipate, just as a young man in cream robes with brown borders poked his head inside. In his hand he was holding Aylana’s knife.
“Are you all right?” he asked, frowning at the ropes.
“I will be,” she replied.
The man quickly cut the ropes and backed out of the carriage. It took a minute for the circulation to return, and she waited until able to move her fingers normally before getting up.
Stepping out, she found herself within a large circular parade ground, the wall of which stood roughly ten feet high. The stone was pitted and chipped throughout, revealing its age, and bore several deep gouges and cracks that went all the way through.
Behind her was the arched entrance through which she could make out a dense forest on either side of the cobbled road. The enclave was a single-story building made from the same material as the wall, though in far better repair. It wasn’t as big as she had thought it would be: less than fifty feet across, with tall, narrow windows, four on either side of the front door. She saw Aylana duck inside, not bothering to look back, then vanish into the dim interior.
“I’m Darrus,” the young man said, who was waiting off to her right. “You must be Mariyah.”
Mariyah rubbed her wrists. “Yes. Forgive me if I was rude.”
He waved a hand. “No need to apologize. From what I saw, you had good reason to be unhappy. Though I am curious as to why you were bound. After all, you’re expected.”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the front door. “Is Felistal here?”
“Master Felistal is resting,” he explained. “He told me I was to show you to your quarters should you arrive before he wakes.” He gestured for her to follow. “You should have time to wash off the dust from the road, if you’d like.”
“That would be splendid.”
Beyond the door was a broad gallery with rows of glass cases filled with unusual artifacts. Some looked to be common household items, while others were completely foreign to her. On the walls hung portraits of men and women, all in identical black and red robes with a silver flame embroidered over the left side of the chest above the heart.
Noticing her interest, Darrus paused. “This is where all the Masters of the Order are remembered. The cases contain personal items—mostly charms they made when they were students.”
She stopped in front of a case containing a gold spoon, a red shirt, and ten or so thin copper chains. “Do they still work?”
“A few might. But mostly the magic has faded by now. Permanent charms take an experienced Thaumas. Like I said, these were made when the masters were young.”
“I’d have thought something more … significant would be on display.” She moved to the next case down. “Looks like a bunch of junk to me.”
Darrus laughed. “I suppose it is.” He ran a finger over the lid. “I come here late at night sometimes and try to imagine the masters of old, struggling to learn the basics of magic. It reminds me that no matter how powerful one becomes, we all have humble beginnings. I think that’s the point. At least, that’s what I see.”
“I guess I need to start taking the time to look deeper,” Mariyah said.
“For someone like you, I wouldn’t imagine you’d be overly inspired by any of this.”
“Someone like me?”
“Bound for the twelfth ascension. That is why you’re here, yes? Everyone in the enclave has heard about how powerful you are. And you should know, there are quite a few jealous students wandering about the halls.” He leaned in to whisper. “Instructors too. But they’d never admit it.”
“I’m sorry. But I have no idea what you’re talking about. As far as I know, I won’t be here long. A few days at most.”
He looked disappointed. “That’s too bad. It’s been many years since a potential master has come. Felistal was the last, and that was a long time ago. I do hope you change your mind.”
Mariyah followed him through a broad set of twin doors at the far end and down a series of corridors.
The twelfth ascension? Potential master? What had Felistal told them? Officially, she had yet to reach the fourth. Loria had intended on giving her the test, but her trip had delayed it until her return.
Thus far, the tests had not been very challenging. Mariyah was given a list of spells and charms to cast from memory. All told, the tests had only taken her ten minutes to complete, and had centered primarily on glamor.
They passed by a few larger chambers with assorted chairs and sofas, where people were sitting around lit hearths and talking quietly, all eyeing the newcomer with keen interest. As they continued deeper into the enclave, it became apparent that it was far larger than it had appeared from the outside.
“You’re with Loria Camdon, I hear,” Darrus said.
“Yes,” she replied. “She’s been the one instructing me.”
“A powerful Thaumas, that one. You’re quite lucky. I didn’t think she was willing to take students.”
“Our circumstances are … unique.”
He smiled over his shoulder. “They must be. It’s a risk to teach magic in Ubania. Not as much as it is in Ralmarstad, but risky nonetheless. You’ve nothing to fear here, though. Queen Rasilla grants us dominion over a fifty-mile radius surrounding the enclave. We’re a nation unto ourselves, in a way, albeit a tiny one.”
Much of this she already knew, but she allowed Darrus to make conversation. Queen Rasilla of Syleria was herself a Thaumas—the only ruler in Lamoria who could make the claim. Students were required to work the fields and tend the herds owned by the Order for a part of the year. With the Fumore River running through their land to provide fresh water, this made them essentially self-sustaining.
“How many students live here?” she asked.
“About forty.”
“So few?”
“Some years there are more. Magical talent is rare. And many Thaumas choose to teach students away from the enclave. Mostly those nobles who are willing to learn and can afford to pay. A good way to earn a living and gain valuable allies at the same time.”
Or create more dangerous foes, she thought.
As it turned out, the enclave was not a single building but four, joined by a central garden—two buildings on either side and one directly opposite the main building. The garden was well tended, likely using magic, given the number of people residing there, and while not as extensive as Loria’s had several comfortable benches to sit on and relax in study.
Darrus led her to the left side and down a short corridor to her quarters.
“This is where Lady Camdon stays when she’s here,” Darrus told her. “You’re free to explore the grounds. Nothing is off limits. But be careful; it’s easy to get lost. If you’re hungry, there’s a dining hall in the main building. There’s always something prepared, day or night.”
The room was decent enough, with a comfortable bed, chairs, and a small table near an unlit fireplace. The décor was unremarkable, devoid of the personal touches Loria added to every room in the manor. If these were Loria’s standard quarters, she had chosen not to leave any evidence of it.
Her belongings were still in the other carriage, but there was a set of Thaumas robes in the dresser that fit nicely, along with a pair of soft leather shoes that were only slightly too big. Mariyah had been given an identical robe on the first day of lessons, but she never wore it. Of course, in Ubania it would have been ill-advised to be seen meandering the halls dressed as a Thaumas. From time to time, one would come calling hoping to find work decorating the manor with glamor, but they were invariably clad in common attire. The Ralmarstad prohibition on the Thaumas was largely ignored, the desire for their services by the nobility enough to make the authorities look the other way, but it was best not to openly flaunt one’s disobedience.
Locking the door, Mariyah entered the washroom on the far side of the chamber. The hot water felt wonderful, and removing the layer of d
ust along with the stench of stale beer from the night before went far to lifting her spirits. Still, however, the image of Aylana’s smug grin persisted.
As she was drying her hair, there came a firm rap at the door. Mariyah quickly put on the robe and answered. Standing in the corridor was Milani, eyes downcast, a bandage over her left cheek, and her right arm held in a sling.
“Spirits!” Mariyah cried. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to meet her gaze. “I was careless.”
Mariyah ushered her inside. “Nonsense. Neither of us knew she was a Thaumas. It was my fault for losing my temper.”
“I told them everything,” she said, her meek tone so uncharacteristic as to make Mariyah slightly uncomfortable.
“I know. It’s all right, really. You didn’t have a choice. Truth stones are powerful.”
When Milani looked up, her eyes were filled with vengeance. “Let me know when we can try again. Next time, I’ll gut her.”
“There won’t be a next time. I was wrong. I…” She couldn’t tell her why. But given that she had risked her life, Milani deserved some sort of explanation. “I misunderstood the situation.”
“I know. All four of those children of a pig’s ass are Thaumas spies.”
Mariyah raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”
“You don’t need magic to get information. They let slip enough for me to figure it out.” She removed her arm from the sling, wincing. “Can’t trust a spy. Better to get rid of them.”
“No one is getting rid of anyone,” she said, firmly. With most people, she would have taken it as bluster and hyperbole—a show of anger to allay wounded pride. But not with Milani. “Now why don’t you go to your room and get cleaned up?”
“I’m staying here.”
Mariyah was about to protest, but one look at her face said it would be useless. Mariyah smiled and nodded. “Fine. But do get washed. I’m hungry.”
Milani rubbed her shoulder and sniffed her armpit. “I guess I could use a good cleaning.”
A Chorus of Fire Page 14
