“Just don’t say anything stupid, Kyra,” he kept saying. “No need to talk about kidnapping or any such nonsense.”
“They know exactly what you did, and I’m not going to lie about it.”
“Well, the hearing was more about your spells, and how you got out of the house, so the reason for you being there didn’t come into it. I just don’t want them to think I’m the kind of person who goes round locking up a misbehaving drusse.”
I laughed at that, I couldn’t help it, for it was exactly what he was.
But I was feeling benevolent towards Drei at the time. As soon as my new drusse contract was signed, his manner towards me had changed. The edginess dropped away and he was back to the charming, affable man who’d kept me entertained on the dull journey to Kingswell, with an added degree of solicitude for my delicate condition, as he described it.
He was very proud of his coming baby. He showered me with expensive gifts and made sure I was invited to all the most glittering occasions. Best of all, he was absorbed by Yannassia and his new drusse, so I rarely had to spend much time alone with him, and there was no question of sex. So I agreed that I would try to portray his actions in a good light. Privately, I wasn’t sure how well I would cope with probing questioning – I’m not very good at thinking quickly and finding the right words. But he would be interviewed by Council himself later, so he could perhaps smooth over any mistakes I made.
The Council Chamber was a vast cube of a room, designed to accommodate the many hundreds of nobles who attended the summer meetings, but unlike most of the Keep, it was starkly plain. Walls and floor were of undecorated marble, an austere pale grey, the tiered seats that filled most of the room were of the same marble, as were the dais at one end and its ten high-backed chairs. The only decoration was on the wall behind the dais, where the symbols of the five Kell-Durshalon were engraved in images the height of a man. It was like being in a mausoleum.
On the floor below the dais sat a single wooden chair, with a small table beside it bearing jugs of water and wine, and a pair of crystal goblets. I felt exposed sitting there, with the ten Council members above me on their imposing thrones, and a scattering of other nobles in the tiered seats behind me, murmuring amongst themselves. I couldn’t see him, but I knew Cal was there too, invited by Council, presumably to restore order in case uncontrolled magic leaked out of me and caused damage to any noble. Although he was himself noble-born, Cal had surrendered his automatic right to attend Council when he became a mage.
Fortunately, none of the questions were terribly daunting. They were interested in my magic, what I could and couldn’t do, how I got in and out of the Imperial City and what I had found there. They were concerned about the missing guards and Marras and the mage. They wanted to know about my spells on the Drashon and Krayfon, and what had been discussed at the midnight meeting. That was all simple enough to answer. Eventually they got round to Drei and our little jaunt to Ictharia. I described what had happened in bald terms, but of course they wanted more.
“And you were locked in the cellar, Lady Mage?”
How to answer discreetly? “Um. I believed so at the time, Worshipful Lady.”
“You believed so? Either you were or you were not.” She was a large woman, and she leaned forward and glowered at me, jowls wobbling above a tight collar studded with gems.
“I thought I was,” I squeaked, “but when I tried the door it wasn’t locked.”
“But they kept you down there for – what was it, three suns?”
An easier one to sidestep. “Not continuously, no. I asked if I could check on my horse, and they let me do that, and introduced me to the kitchen servants.” There! That sounded more guest than prisoner.
“And what reason was given for keeping you there against your will? It was against your will, was it not?”
No avoiding the truth, but I could soften it a bit. “Oh, yes! I didn’t want to be there. They were strangers to me, you see, I didn’t understand their language... No, I wanted to go home.”
“But why did Bai-Kellon Axandrei leave you there like that? What was his intention?”
Awkward question. “I can’t speak for his intentions, you’ll have to ask him to answer that.”
“We will, naturally. But he must have given you a reason, or perhaps you overheard him explaining to his family about his plans?”
“When they talked together, it was in Ictharian.”
I was falling apart by the time they finished, bathed in sweat and my head pounding. But I think I’d swerved around the most awkward questions and luckily nobody mentioned kidnapping. A few suns later they interviewed Drei and he must have satisfied them, for I heard no more about it. A moon or so later approval was given for him to marry Yannassia, conditional on the production of at least two children from his drusse.
Not long after that my pregnancy was officially confirmed, but I was in no hurry to move out of the vast apartment I still shared with Drei. He was rarely there, turning up only to change clothes before dashing off again on some important business. He spent every night with his new drusse, thank the Moon God. She was whispered to be pregnant too, and Drei was as smug as could be about it.
~~~~~
About a moon before the summer festivals, something unexpected happened. It appeared that Drei hadn’t forgotten his sister, Bellastria, after all, and three potential suitors had been found. They were related to the Drashon somehow, and were all brothers, or perhaps cousins, I wasn’t sure – they used an old word, which meant a close male relative. Anyway, they were all to go in state to Ardamurkan to meet Bellastria, together with several law scribes to thrash out a suitable contract, and if she liked one of them, there would be a wedding before the year was out.
The Drashon decreed that I was to go as well. He’d had the bright idea that, since my magic had spelled my sister Deyria, perhaps my magic could break the spell’s power. I wasn’t confident, myself, but it was worth a try. Cal would go with me, and we were to go on afterwards to Durmaston.
“You have not seen your home for a long time,” the Drashon said kindly, “and a great deal has happened to you lately. It will do you good to see your family and friends again. You can have a rest from your studies, and perhaps you will be there in time for your brother’s wedding.”
I smiled and thanked him politely, through gritted teeth. The last thing I wanted was to see Deyria again, now that the whole world knew that I’d spelled her so thoroughly that she would possibly never have children. I wasn’t terribly keen to see my family again, either. What did I have in common with them now? I was a mage, and they were still mired in the same boring rut.
It would be fun to see Galnan married, of course, although it was curious how the Drashon had come to hear about that. I hadn’t told many people, and I couldn’t imagine that anyone would think it interesting enough to tell the Drashon. Strange.
I had no time to wonder, though, for within three suns the preparations were made and we were on the road.
29: The River
Travelling with Cal was very different from travelling with Drei, I discovered. Drei had kept me entertained every step of the way, with a constant stream of anecdotes, or snippets of information about the surroundings or its history, and had thoughtfully provided drinks and sweet delicacies to while the hours away. I never had to do anything except sit and be amused.
Cal wasn’t entertaining in the least. Mostly he was morose, and would sit for hours in silence. When he spoke at all, it was to complain. The carriage was too bouncy, the roads too rutted, the inns too full of spiders and the beds lumpy and damp. The food he barely touched, with the result that he became desperately hungry at odd hours. I would hear him prowling about well before dawn, or else he would insist on stopping the carriage in some rat-infested hole of a village to buy something – anything – edible, which drove the rest of the party mad. If he hadn’t been a mage, I suspect they would have left him behind. I took to making up a basket of bread, c
heese and fruit at each inn to take in the carriage, together with a couple of flasks of wine. Then he would eat when he was hungry, drink himself into unconsciousness and snore away the afternoon.
Apart from the irritation of Cal, the journey was remarkably comfortable. Unlike my previous trip, we were a small enough group that we could make good time on the road – when Cal’s quirks allowed us to. We were accommodated in the best inns or guest houses, and everyone strained to produce the finest food and entertainment for us. Occasionally we passed through a decent-sized town and stayed at the Kellon’s or Durshalon’s hall, and were feasted like princes. Then Cal would exert himself to be sociable. He was very clever, in his way, and could be erudite with his fellow mages, exchange political speculation with the nobles or flirt with easily impressed females. He seldom said a word to me.
We made good time, despite Cal, so when we came to the Taysil River, the three brothers, or whatever they were, asked if we would mind a small diversion. There was a town a few hours along the road to the east which had some kind of training facility they were keen to see. There was a good guest hall, and we could cross the river by the bridge there and cut back to the main road further south, losing no more than a sun’s travel. Everyone agreed to it. To be honest, we were all a little tired of the endless pine forests, and the prospect of travelling beside the river for a while was very pleasant.
We hadn’t bargained for the poor state of the road. One of the luggage wagons broke an axle, and the law scribes’ carriage was damaged, too, so we arrived late in the afternoon, with the prospect of spending at least two nights in the town while repairs were made. I’d never been in the river region before, but I thought it very strange. The houses, even the brick or stone ones, were painted bizarre colours – reds and oranges and yellows – so as we approached the town it looked like a badly tended flowerbed. Close to the river, buildings were raised on stilts so they looked half finished. The streets were full of raucous crowds, not going anywhere, just standing about, some of them singing drunkenly.
“Looks like some kind of festival,” one of the guards said, leaning down to shout through the carriage window. “We’ll be lucky to find beds for the night.” She was right; the guest hall was full, so we were squeezed into various inns.
Cal and I, together with his personal servant, the carriage driver and a couple of guards, were assigned to an inn quite near the river. I could look out of my window and see brown water sliding smoothly past the bridge supports. It was an odd sensation, as if I was moving too. The near bank was open and grassy, but on the far side willows dipped down to brush against the water, and water birds glided to and fro, or ducked below, bobbing up again further downstream. There were none that I recognised. I wished I had Drei with me, for he would have known what they were.
We left the servant and driver settling the horses and organising luggage, and went downstairs to the inn’s entrance lobby. The manager, a fussily dressed woman of indeterminate years, bustled out of some inner fastness when we rang the bell.
“Yes?”
“Where is your board room?” I said.
“My what? Oh, you wanting evening board? Across the square there, see? That brick building. They doing food. Two pieces for a bowl, three for a platter, five for a tray. Ale good, too.”
“You don’t do evening board here, then? What about morning board?”
She laughed. “No one cooking in their own house, my dear, not round here. All in the fire house. And hot water, too, if you wanting a bath or laundry.”
Cal snorted in disgust, and without a word went back to his room. The rest of us crossed the square to the fire house, a big building with various hearths and ranges and spits, all smoking and sizzling and wafting meaty smells under our noses. I realised I was starving. There were tables with stools and benches scattered about, some under a covered area between two cooking hearths, most out in the open. We sat as far from the clouds of smoke as we could get, and waved down a girl passing by with jugs of ale.
“Can we get some food – platters, maybe?”
“Over there,” she said with a jerk of the head, and moved on.
“What does that mean?” I said to the others.
“I suppose we have to go and fetch the food ourselves,” one of the guards said. “If you give me some pieces, Lady, I’ll go and sort something out.”
She was gone a long time, but eventually returned with a little train of assistants bearing platters of meat, bowls of soup, baskets of fruit and bread and jugs of ale. The helpers deposited their goods, then bobbed and bowed awkwardly, like giant chickens, before dashing away with sideways glances at me.
“They’re terrified of mages,” the guard said, with a grin. “Don’t see them often out here. Whoa! Go easy with the ale, Morthan. It’s a whole bar for two jugs.”
It was a strange meal, but pleasantly festive to eat in the open, with crowds coming and going around us. Afterwards, a few questions from a family sharing our table got us directions to the training grounds.
“I suppose we’re too late for any action tonight,” one of the guards said.
They snorted. “Them! They going at it all night, in brightmoon. Clack, clack, clack they going, never stop until full dark. They there now all right.”
A very short walk brought us out by the river bank, and we no longer needed anyone to point the way to the training grounds, for the clash of swords and grunts of battling warriors drew us there. The whole edge of the river was given over to a mass of heaving bodies, spear points glinting and sweeping sword-strokes afire in the reddening sun.
There were tiered wooden seats running the length of one side, so there we sat, the sun gradually slipping down behind us, together with half the town’s population, it seemed. Tempting trays of pies or ale or cheese wrapped in bread were carried up and down the rows. I bought some pies to take back to Cal, and the guards were tempted by the cheaper ale.
As I watched what seemed like a disorganised melee, I realised it was more disciplined than that, with the various weapons each given their own areas, and the fighters would move from one to another in a systematic way. The guards soon became absorbed, discussing points of professional interest in whispers. I wasn’t very interested, but if I left they would have to accompany me, and they were enjoying it so much I chose to stay.
But then I noticed something peculiar. My skin prickled and I shivered, although it wasn’t cold.
The guards noticed at once. “Are you all right, Lady?”
“Yes. I – Look, I have to go back to the inn.”
“It’s not the baby, is it?” she said, instantly concerned.
“No, no, nothing like that. Do you mind if we go?”
“We’re at your disposal. Besides, we have all tomorrow to watch.”
They escorted me back to the inn, and I practically ran up the stairs to Cal’s room. Then I hesitated. Would he be angry with me for disturbing him? What if he was asleep? Or busy with an inn companion?
But I was breathless with excitement and he was the only person I could tell. I rapped on the door.
No answer.
I knocked again, then lifted the latch and pushed open the door.
“Cal? Are you there? It’s me.”
Unlike my room, his faced away from the river, so his single window overlooked a garish turquoise wall. The furnishings were much the same, just a wooden bed, a small table with a ewer of water and some cloths, a chair and a thin rug well chewed by moths. His travelling box sat unopened in a corner, his coat lay in a heap on the floor. He sat bolt upright on top of the bed, his back against the wall, staring into space. Apart from the coat he was fully dressed, even down to the boots.
“What do you want?” he said, not moving.
“I brought you some pies. In case you were hungry.”
“Thank you. You can leave them on the table.”
“Cal – I’ve seen something. Down at the training grounds.”
“A lot of muscular peop
le hitting each other over the head, I suppose.” He still didn’t turn to look at me.
I smothered a laugh. “That, yes. But something else. Someone with an aura.”
“An aura? Oh! An aura! A wild mage, you mean?” He turned to me, face alight with excitement, swinging his legs onto the floor. “Show me!”
“What, now?”
“Why not? He might still be there.”
“Or she – impossible to tell under all that gear.”
He raced out of the inn and down the road, leaving me to try to keep up. His legs were longer than mine, and I was practically running behind him, turning heads and drawing ribald comments from groups sitting outside the fire house, until they noticed the mage marks and fell into silence. He took no notice. It was only when we reached the training grounds that he stopped, so abruptly that I nearly careered into him.
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