Color Mage (Book 1)

by Anne Marie Lutz

  “Please don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

  His eyes caught hers again, and he smiled ruefully down into her face. “I must. It isn’t fair to you.”

  “To hell with fair.” Her vehemence had startled him. “I know you think this is all your doing—that I’m—under your power somehow.”

  “Is that what I think?” There was no expression in his face.

  She kept going; she might never have another chance. If she offended him, so be it.

  “You haven’t influenced me to want you. Trust me. I’ve felt a ku’an’s influence, as you know, since you were the ku’an. This isn’t it. You have more control than that—you have to trust yourself.”

  “I have only the control Jashan grants me. Sometimes—that’s not enough. It gets away. Kirian, you know I think you’re beautiful. I admit it—I desire you. But I can’t risk . . .” His voice trailed off, and he took a step back from her.

  She sighed. She was losing the battle. Losing him. “You care enough about me to want me to make my own decisions.”

  “Yes, well, everyone should make their own decisions!” He stepped away from her. One hand went up, ran through his hair. She reached out and put her hands on his arms and stopped him.

  “I can’t be inside your head, Callo. I know what’s in mine, though.” If she was going to have to expose her feelings, he was worth it. She would have to trust what she knew of this man, that he would not ridicule her for what she was about to say. She braced herself for his reaction. “I started caring about you when you helped with little Cam. I’ve wanted you since the Fortune, that awful night when everything went wrong, remember? I think I came to love you before we made port in Las’ash. I know damned well you weren’t trying to influence me then. You barely knew I existed.”

  He only looked at her. She looked down, away from his gaze, feeling a little raw with what she had revealed about herself. She knew he only desired her, but did not love her. If she had to take this risk to be with him a little, she was willing to do it.

  “So, see? What I feel—it isn’t what you feel at all. You didn’t create this in me. Don’t take responsibility for things you can’t do. You’re not that powerful.” Quite suddenly she had had enough of him and his conscience. She turned away.

  “Kirian.” His voice was low.

  “What now?” Her voice broke. She reached for her veil, pulled it over her face, hiding her eyes. His hands drew it away, gently in spite of their strength. He tipped her chin upward until she looked into his eyes again.

  “Gods. I dream about those eyes.” He paused a moment. “Thank you, Kirian.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, then sniffed as her nose began to run. “It wasn’t easy.”

  “No. It wouldn’t be.” He drew his finger over her cheek, wiping away a tear. She was appalled. How could he want her now, when she was weeping all over the place? He added, “You are right. I take too much on myself.”

  “Well, it’s very honorable of you to guard your ku’an powers like that. The other ku’an are despicable. Perversions. I’m glad—Gods, I’m glad you aren’t like that. But don’t start thinking you always know what’s going on in everyone else’s head.” She knew she was babbling, but could not seem to stop.

  “I know.” He gathered her into his arms. There was no urgency about his embrace, just comfort. She put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, steadying her breathing, beginning to rejoice in the nearness of him. His arms were strong and warm, and he showed no sign of favoring his injured arm. Her eyes opened wide as she realized what she was doing, and she snorted.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I am always a Healer.”

  “You probably can’t stand that smell,” he frowned, letting her go. “Must I really wear the stuff all day?”

  “If you can. I’ll put more on tomorrow.”

  He sighed and sat down on one of the beds, pulling her down next to him. He stared at the door. “They could be back at any moment.”

  “Yes.”

  “Or the ku’an’an’s men—they could show up.”

  “They could indeed.”

  “There is no time.” He sighed. “What am I thinking? You need a chaperone.”

  “I am very grateful you didn’t see fit to bring Sara’Si.”

  He laughed aloud. “She would have been a ray of sunshine on our journey. Kirian, my sweet, we should not seize this moment. As much as I want to . . .” His voice faded, and she leaned over and kissed him. He responded with no shadow of reluctance, and she began to melt against him, his arms going about her again, hands caressing her back. His lips were on her neck, trailing fire down her nerves. She let him pull her closer. His hands slipped under her tunic, caressing her bare skin. His mouth was soft yet firm; she opened her mouth for him and felt, more than heard, him groan as his hands reached her breasts.

  She spared a thought through the thrill of anticipation for whether they had locked the door when she came in. Well, she thought, Chiss won’t let Ha’star come in without knocking—and then she forgot the others, forgot where they were, let Callo seduce her with his hands and mouth until she forgot everything.

  Until, near the last burst of feeling, she opened her eyes to see a swirl of golden color wrapping them. An amorphous coalescence of energy, much like color magic, shot with light.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They led the horses through the steep streets of Anha’lin, guided by a few street lamps and the occasional dim glow from a second-floor window. Moisture hung in the air, rain mixed with salt spray, reminding Kirian of Seagard Village. She peered ahead, following Callo and Miri, shivering under her cloak. Chiss rode behind her, guarding the rear.

  Callo had scattered a few coins on the table before they left. Ha’star insisted that they hurry; the ku’an’an’s men were searching the town. The captain he had found was anxious to get his bargain over and done with, and there was no time like the present. None of them protested.

  The houses and businesses of the town dropped behind them. Kirian looked ahead and saw a clutter of wooden docks and hulls bobbing in the sea. There were no gates, no taverns, and no prostitutes waiting for seamen on shore. This was no Two Merkhan, nor even Las’ash port, but a small town. A lone, rickety table, naked of any goods, had a sign offering “Hot Sausage, Warm Bread” but there was no sign of anyone around at this hour. The gentle slap, slap of the waves against the dock lulled Kirian’s ear.

  They turned away from the main dock and followed Ha’star down a dirt path that edged the smaller docks. The horses’ hooves made little sound on the damp earth. The darkness covered the boats at the main dock as the group left them behind. The captain Ha’star had found must be waiting away from the main group so as to avoid drawing attention.

  Just as she thought she could make out a darker patch of hull ahead of them, someone shouted from behind.

  “Stop!” The shout rang loud in the moisture-laden air. Kirian’s mare startled and Chiss’ gelding neighed in alarm.

  “You there, stop! By order of the King!”

  “Mount! Let’s go!” snapped Ha’star. Kirian jumped onto Lady and went after the others as fast she could in the near-dark. Callo pulled Miri back, letting Kirian go ahead as he looked back over his shoulder at their pursuers.

  “I think there are several.” She heard him say to Chiss. “Go!”

  The horses’ hooves hit the wood planking of a dock, and clattered as they picked up the pace. Kirian saw a boat drawn up by the end of the dock, not much bigger than Kin and Rashiri’s Homebound, from what she could see in the dark. A single lamp flamed on her rail. A sturdy gangway was laid between the ship and the pier—only a few feet long, and not very high, yet Kirian’s heart quailed at the idea of riding Lady over it with the dark waters below.

  Ha’star pulled aside. “Go up,” he said. She could hear the clash of metal behind her. Chiss and Callo were defending their rear until they could get aboard. Holding her breath, s
he gripped Lady’s sides with her knees and urged her on. The mare stopped with her front hooves on the gangway, trembling. Kirian slid off, clinging close to the mare as she slid by, and went to Lady’s head.

  “Come on, Lady,” she whispered. “They’re coming. You can do it.” She looked down at the swirl of dark water to either side of the gangway. Then she slid her veil from her face and wrapped it around Lady’s eyes. She backed up the gangway, encouraging the mare, while alert to the sounds of battle behind her. The mare followed her lead, ears laid back, and stood on the rocking deck, trembling.

  “I didn’t like that either,” Kirian whispered to the mare. “Ha’star, I’m aboard!” She looked back over the rail to see that Ha’star was riding back to Callo and Chiss. A bearded man wearing a rain-slick oiled coat grinned at her from the deck.

  “Just you, eh?” he said. “No reason I should wait here to be boarded, is there?”

  Kirian turned and yelled through the dark and the clash of arms: “Now! Get here now! He’s leaving!”

  The man swore and pulled her back, covering her mouth. She jammed her elbow into his gut. He grunted but still held her firmly. “A handful, are ye,” he said. “Thamsa—get up here, get this horse out of our way! We’re casting off!”

  “No, you’re not,” came a menacing voice. Kirian sagged in relief in the seaman’s grasp as she recognized Ha’star’s scarred face weirdly shadowed by the lamp on the rail. “I paid for all of us, and all of us you’ll take.” He had left his horse on the dock so as to get aboard fast. He faced the captain with unsheathed sword.

  “All right, then, we’ll wait on ya!” the captain said angrily. He released Kirian. She ran to the rail and looked into the lamp-lit darkness.

  There was a clatter on the gangway and Miri came up, eyes showing white as the planking trembled beneath her hooves. Callo had been able to ride her aboard, but Chiss had to practically drag his gelding onto the ship.

  “Now go,” Ha’star yelled, waving at the seamen. Then he grabbed bridles, moving the anxious horses to the center of the boat. He threw their reins around some projection and ran back to lean over the rail and peer out into the dark.

  Callo said, “Four men, mounted. Swords only, I think.”

  This was rapidly proven wrong as something hissed past Ha’star’s cheek, the air singing behind it. All four of them hit the deck, crouching low. The ship’s captain swore. “And arrows,” Callo said. “Stay down, Kirian. Chiss are you all right?”

  “Just grazed, my lord,” Chiss said, as calmly as if he were serving tea in SeagardCastle. He held his hand to his cheek in a dignified way. Kirian felt an urge to laugh hysterically, but she quelled it with a silent prayer instead. The arrow lay spent on the deck, and the boat slid away from the little pier. It moved terribly slowly. The mounted men were up at the pier, flinging themselves off their horses, racing for the boat. One of their pursuers leaped, hands grabbing the boat rail as his feet scrabbled at the hull for purchase. Callo shoved his hands off the rail, letting the potential boarder splash into the sea.

  The boat moved farther away, the wind picking up in her sails, and the pursuit fell behind. Three, now powerless men stood frustrated of their goal on the pier. Then the darkness drowned their faces, and Kirian could no longer see any of them.

  “Now, for that bastard Modjho,” said Ha’star, and he started along the deck toward the wheel.

  “Ha’star! Let him alone.” There was a ring of command in Callo’s voice. Ha’star, conditioned to years of obeying the ku’an, stopped.

  “The fool almost left you,” Ha’star bit out, glaring at Callo. “You want him to think he can get away with it next time?”

  “No. But I need him well-disposed to us for now.” Callo went to Ha’star and turned away with him, so Kirian could see only their backs as the two men talked. She could hear nothing.

  Chiss stood, hand still on his cheek. She said, “Let me see that please, Hon Chiss.”

  He removed his hand. “I think it is nothing much, Hon Kirian.” She saw a shallow scrape across his cheek. There was no more bleeding.

  “You’re right. All the same, when we get settled, remind me, and I’ll take care of it.”

  He nodded and looked at the sail billowing above them, visible as a gray wing in the dark.

  The man who had seized Kirian—Captain Modjho, apparently—was at the wheel. He turned and called, “There’s no navigating in this muck. After we hit the OutIsland, we’ll rest ‘til dawn.”

  * * * * *

  A full night and day of crossing a choppy sea in a glorified fishing boat was tough on Kirian’s stomach. Never actually seasick, she continually fought a queasy feeling that left her unable to eat. Although, judging from Callo’s reaction to the fare on board, she wasn’t missing much.

  “Tripe,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “As bad as.” He shoved his plate across the table, where it slid back and forth against the low, wooden table rail. “It bears no resemblance to any animal I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’re used to better food.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “I meant richer food. Prepared by a chef.” Kirian hadn’t taken anything from the simmering pot on the stove, and now, as the boat rolled, she was glad. She grabbed the table to steady herself.

  “I’m no spoiled courtier, Kirian.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She sighed. “You know perfectly well what I mean. Chiss brings your food. Do you know where it comes from?”

  “Sometimes. As long as he knows, I trust it’s safe.”

  “What do you mean, safe?”

  “Safe to eat. Not poisoned.” He stood and wandered over to Chiss, who stood at the door to the mess. Returning with a thick slice of bread and a mug, he said, “I trust Chiss absolutely with that.”

  Kirian was shocked. “You mean people have tried to poison you?”

  “I’m not popular in Sugetre, Kirian. I am a righ bastard. If I’d been of common birth, I would not have been allowed to live. And some people get fixated on the idea that I’m in the direct line to the throne.”

  She stared at him. “You are?”

  “I won’t inherit. Don’t worry about it—I don’t.” He took a deep drink of ale and grinned at her. “Sharpeyes has a nephew, a child, son of his late brother Yarin. He hates the boy, but Ander is the heir to the throne. A promising color mage, too, I hear. Arias would have been his next heir, as oldest son of his sister, and an unCollared color mage—but Sharpeyes had to go have a fit of jealousy and bind him to Seagard. Takes the Alkirani right out of the succession.”

  Kirian processed that. “Does Lord Arias mind?”

  Callo’s grin vanished. “I doubt it. He’s Collared now. That binds him in a way you and I can’t understand, to Seagard and the Watch.”

  “It controls him like a ku’an controls a person.”

  “No, that’s different. A ku’an can project a certain emotion into a person, very strongly if he wants to. Arias doesn’t have to deal with that.”

  “Why not? He’s controlled, all the time, at the mercy of this compulsion.”

  Callo frowned and did not reply.

  “How is that different?” Kirian asked, wondering why Callo was distressed at the turn the conversation had taken.

  “A Collar is an instrument of control,” Callo said, his mouth grim now. “But Arias has his own emotions. He is under a compulsion . . .” Callo stopped. Kirian saw him frowning as he looked down at the table—as though he had forgotten her. After a moment, she spoke.

  “It is not so different, I think. Maybe it is even worse, since he is always under this control, every hour of every day.”

  Callo looked up at her, his face unreadable.

  “Do you think there is something you could do for him?” Kirian asked.

  He shrugged. “I have been wondering the same thing for a while now. That’s why I can’t just escape, leaving him there by himself. I owe him, Kirian.”

  �
��This is the thing you decided you must do, in Seagard.”

  “Yes. And then, if necessary, I’ll go anywhere else in the world with you, keep you safe from harm. But first I must see Arias.”

  “He may kill you. He is a Collared Lord now. They aren’t known for their gentleness.”

  “I know. Oh, yes, I know. He was different, after he was Collared—more like Mikati. But he is my brother, and I can’t abandon him to that if I think there’s a chance I can help. Arias was always glad he was in line for the throne, you know, since it meant Sharpeyes left him alone and unCollared.”

  “I liked him,” Kirian said. “When we first met, that is, after he recovered from the binding fever. I am sorry he is so changed.”

  “Hai! Everyone up here!” yelled Captain Modjho from the deck, a few feet away. “We have a problem.”

  Kirian went to the door. Modjho stood still, staring at the western sea. Bright spring sunlight glittered off the rocking waves, making it hard for Kirian to see what he was looking at. Ha’star came up beside her, and shaded his eyes against the sun.

  She looked again, and saw a thin, black line lying on the surface of the sea.

  Her heart thumped. Callo, behind her in the doorway, swore. “We’re in trouble,” he said.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Ha’star asked.

  The line grew thicker, spreading closer to them. “Black Tide,” Callo said. “Jashan curse them.”

  Modjho yelled at his crewmen and they began piling on the sail, trying to eke every last iota of speed out of the little craft. The deck heaved under them; the waves were growing higher. Kirian grabbed the rail.

  “What will it do to us?” Kirian thought back to the Black Tide she had seen on Kin’s and Rashiri’s fishing boat. They had been terrified of it, trying to tack out of its way. She looked westward and saw the sea covered by a film of black.

  “It looks like the ku’an’an wants us dead if he can’t have us back,” Chiss said. “The Black Tide is a physical manifestation of a ku’an’s psychic magery. It usually takes three or four of them to do something so huge.”