by Victor Poole
"You are like a king, then," Hal said. His eyes were guarded, but he watched her with interest.
"My master, if we followed the old ways," Ajalia said, "would be supreme ruler in the East."
"Why don't you follow the old ways?" Hal asked. Ajalia shrugged.
"There are many powerful traders in the East," she said, "and the old ways are not in favor now. There would be much bloodshed, if my master insisted on his rights."
"Do you agree with this neglect of tradition?" Hal asked. His mouth had made a little curl of derision. Ajalia kept her finger on her place, and glanced up at him again.
"It is not my place," she said, "to tell my master what to do."
"But do you agree?" Hal asked.
"To think for myself in this matter," Ajalia said, "would likely lead to strife between my master and myself. I am better as I am."
Hal frowned, and settled his gaze on a table with curved legs.
"What does the symbol mean?" he asked. "Is it a word?"
"It means, 'Here is the one with shining eyes'," Ajalia said. "It means that our gods approve of my master's right to rule."
"Do you believe in your master's gods?" Hal asked. Ajalia did not answer this question. She turned her eyes again to the translation stone, and worked over the letters. Hal shifted again, and folded his hands together.
"We are taught from the time that we are boys," Hal said. "We are taught by our fathers and uncles, in the temples. Those without male relatives are taught by the priests."
"What are you taught?" Ajalia asked Hal looked at her strangely.
"Magic," he said.
"But how?" Ajalia asked. She still could not quite understand how the men with the white brand used the cords of colored light that she could see and use. Learning magic without such sight, Ajalia thought, would be laborious and slow. Hal shrugged.
"We have many deep thoughts that the priests share with us," Hal said, "and our fathers tell us what they did, to learn." Ajalia thought that it was a miracle that any men in Slavithe were able to do any magic at all. She remembered the temple with the silver door, and the way the priests had huddled together in candle light. She remembered what the priest had said to her, about many of them not being able to see the lights any longer. Tree, she told herself, and Simon, had choked out all the real knowledge of magic in the city. For the first time, she began to wonder what had come just before Tree. She resolved to ask Delmar about his great grandparents when she had the chance.
"Can you show me some magic, and explain how you do it?" Ajalia asked. Hal looked as though she had asked him to strip off his clothes. He shifted uncomfortably, and looked around at the door.
"Right now?" he asked. Ajalia nodded. "What kind of magic?" he hedged cautiously.
"I don't know," Ajalia said. Hal frowned at her, and watched her fingers move slowly over the scrap of leather.
"Well," he said doubtfully. "I guess I could show you the story magic."
"What's that?" Ajalia asked. She thought that story magic sounded promising.
"Hasn't Delmar shown you any story magic?" Hal asked.
"No," Ajalia said. She was not sure if this was a good or a bad thing.
"I'm not really surprised," Hal said, a smile tugging at his cheeks. "It is the kind of magic that children do." Ajalia's eyebrows lifted a little. "I mostly trap and kill witches," Hal told her, grimacing. "That is not the kind of magic for doing in a room on a calm evening." Ajalia smiled, and nodded agreeably. She wanted to know how Hal went about killing witches, but she wanted to know about this children's magic as well. Hal lifted one hand, and a furrow of concentration came into his face.
A prancing image of a horse with wide blue wings appeared over Hal's open palm. The horse was about five inches across, and the wings were long and sweeping, and joined powerfully to the blue horse's shoulders.
"In the beginning," Hal said, "when Slavithe was still only a stretch of desert, and the black rock mountains stretched like forbidding teeth alongside the sea, our forefathers came, led in the front by Jerome."
Delmar had told Ajalia that Bakroth, Jerome's brother, had led the escaped slaves, but he had also said that the Slavithe people would not take kindly to talk of Bakroth.
"Jerome rode a horse, and the horse's name was Issa." The horse above Hal's palm let out a silent whinny, and reared up, the blue wings stretching out wide on either side.
"Can you see what you make there?" Ajalia asked Hal. Hal looked at her, a small frown crossing his face.
"Of course I can," Hal said. "Images are easy." Ajalia remembered that Delmar had told her the same thing, when he had first conjured the great golden shape of the falcon in the mountains.
Ajalia wanted to ask Hal why he could not see the lights of magic, when he could see the lines of light that he had shaped into the picture of the horse. She was sure that the men would be able to see magic; she thought that they had learned not to see the lights, or that they heard from others that they ought not to see the magic as it lay in the ground. She watched the small blue horse cavort above Hal's hand, and she settled in to listen.
"The horse Issa was strong and sure; she had been blessed by the cloud spirits, and she bore Jerome easily through the thick sands. In the days of Jerome, the white road had not been laid, and our forefathers toiled through terrible sands, and deep dunes."
Hal twisted his fingers, and the blue horse vanished. A long golden castle rose up, and red banners flung out from the topmost towers, and waved in an imaginary wind.
"When Jerome saw that our forefathers were famished with hunger, and close to death, he cried out to the spirits of the clouds, and asked them to bless his horse. Issa was given the wings of a bird, and Jerome rode up to the sky kingdom, and met with the king in the sky."
Hal turned his palm towards the floor, and the golden castle tumbled away. Hal turned his palm again to the ceiling, and a great dagger that glowed blue and silver appeared above his hand. Ajalia saw that the dagger was just the same shape and size as the first falcon's dagger that Isacar had shown her, and that she had tucked into her robes. It lay now just below her heart, and made a gentle crease within the cream fabric.
"Jerome spoke to the king in the sky," Hal said, "and he begged the great king to lend him a token of the sky, to give his people heart and strength. Jerome told the great sky king that he knew his people could build a great city, but that they needed an emblem of good faith. The sky king gave Jerome a dagger with magic in it. When Jerome rode Issa back down to the desert floor, he carried the dagger forward for two days, and then, when the magic dagger began to glow white with power, Jerome stabbed the desert with it, and the sands fell away. A kingdom from the sky fell down where the magic dagger had pierced the sands, and the people found cold springs, and plants, and many animals and trees. The forefathers settled in this land, and named it Slavithe, because it was the land where the sky king lent power to those who had been slaves. Jerome is known now as the leader and father of our people, because he ascended to the sky, and brought back the magic dagger, and the blessing of the sky king."
Hal closed up his fingers, and the glowing image of the dagger vanished away. Ajalia stared at the place where the picture of the dagger had been, and she thought about the slim leather books that she carried now in her bag. Bakroth's wife had known magic, Ajalia thought, and the sky angel, it seemed, was supposed to bring the dead falcon back to life, to teach him to ascend into the sky again, and bring down—no, she remembered now. The sky angel, Isacar had said, was going to make the dead falcon able to lead the people of Slavithe into the sky. She pictured, for a moment, the whole white city rising up into the clouds, and the people hiding in their houses, afraid to step out, lest they should fall. Ajalia smiled, and looked down at her translating.
"What is that?" Hal asked her.
"I took this from a witch," Ajalia said. She moved her fingers along to the next word, and began to sort out the letters.
"Has Delmar seen it?" Hal a
sked. Ajalia nodded.
"He told me to work it out myself," Ajalia said. She glanced up.
"I can read the old Slavithe," Hal said hesitantly.
"Do you know about the spies from Talbos meeting together?" she asked, without looking up. Hal nodded.
"Rane said he was collecting them," Hal said.
"Do you know where they were planning to be?" Ajalia asked. Hal shook his head.
"Rane refused to say," Hal said. "Ocher said it would be all right. They were to send a message later tonight. It hasn't come yet."
"Is Delmar out hunting those witches?" Ajalia asked. Hal nodded. Ajalia sighed. She plucked out the folded paper. "Read that out to me, please," she said.
Hal took the paper, and smoothed it out. She watched his eyes go over the words; his face darkened, just as Delmar's had done.
"This is awful," Hal said. He looked up at Ajalia. "I should go and help Delmar," he said, and he looked as though he was ready to jump to his feet.
"You don't know where he's gone," Ajalia said reasonably. "He'll be all right."
"Does he know this?" Hal demanded. Ajalia nodded; she was beginning to feel tired again, and an ache was rising up behind her eyes.
"He has seen it," Ajalia said. "Now, please tell me, what does it say?" Hal regarded her suspiciously.
"It's horrible," Hal warned. Ajalia nodded.
"Yes," she agreed.
"Have you read this yet?" Hal asked. Ajalia wanted to laugh out loud, but she restrained herself.
"Read it to me," she suggested again. Hal sighed, as though he were about to do a terrible thing, and looked down at the paper.
"It's a formula," Hal said, "for infesting a man with darkness."
"Yes," Ajalia said patiently. "Can you read it out loud?" Hal looked at her doubtfully.
"I really don't think that I should," he said earnestly. Ajalia sighed, and held out her hand. Hal hesitated again, and then gave the folded paper back. Useless, Ajalia told herself with some irritation, and Hal watched her as she pored again over the scrap of leather. "What does that other one say?" Hal asked, his voice urgent.
"No," Ajalia said shortly. Hal looked as though she had kept a treat away from him.
"Why not?" he asked.
"How can you kill witches for years," Ajalia asked, "and then pretend to be surprised when you find out that the witches are bad people?" Hal's face puckered into an anxious frown.
"But you're a nice woman," he said.
"You told Delmar that he ought to have told me everything," Ajalia pointed out, "after he knew who I was. You said that this morning," she reminded Hal. Hal looked a little embarrassed.
"But what is written there is not nice at all," Hal said. Ajalia felt, again, as though she were arguing with a child over the distribution of sweets. She put her face into one hand, and rubbed at her eyes. She felt the black mark smearing over her fingers, and she laughed. She took a small scrap of the plain tunic she had cut up in the morning to use as a bridle, and fished the tiny jar of ointment she had saved out from her things that had been sent on to Talbos with the rest of the slaves. Ajalia put some ointment on the scrap of cloth, and began to clean the black marks from her forehead and eyes. Hal watched her, a look of disconcerted concern in his eyes.
"I've gotten out of my young man what the sky angel is," Ajalia told Hal. "It seems that your people will only explain the particular bits of Slavithe culture that they don't personally believe in."
"Everyone believes in the sky angel," Hal said seriously. He watched her solemnly, and a dark line was between his eyebrows. "You must be much more careful of what you say of such things," he added, "if you want to stay out of trouble."
Ajalia suppressed a sigh. She rubbed the darkening cloth over her temples; the coarse motion of the dampened cloth made her skin relax; she felt as though she were going to fall asleep in this chair.
"Tell me more, please," she said, and she did not sound in the least bit as if she were making fun of Hal. Hal regarded her with a serious frown, and nodded.
"It's wise of you," he told her, "to see out advice from your elders." Ajalia nodded peaceably. She tried to remember the last time that someone had lectured her like this, and she could not think of a time. How, Ajalia asked herself, had she kept from hearing such well-meaning advice as this, all of her days? She had heard other female slaves being lectured in this way, but somehow, whether because of her intensity or out of luck, she had never before been the recipient of such attentions herself. She kept her eyes and her fingers on the scrap of leather and the translation stone, and she began to work out the next word.
"If you are going to be the sky angel," Hal said helpfully, his eyebrows creased with concern, and his mouth drawn down in a furiously thoughtful frown, "then you will have to start changing yourself a little. I think everyone wants the sky angel to be very refined," he explained, "and graceful."
"I see," Ajalia murmured, her eyes fixed on the word she was working out. The old Slavithe letters were slowly becoming familiar to her as she worked through the scrap. Many of the words in the old and new Slavithe were very similar, and when she had gotten the right letters worked out in her mind, she was able to get at most of the meaning within the scrap.
The scrap contained a very dark spell; Ajalia had not read down to the bottom of the piece of leather, or to the words that lay over the other side, but she was sure that the spell was for the kind of possession that Delmar had experienced, that had caused the dark shadows that his father had planted in his brain. The symptoms that the leather scrap described as resulting from the spell were very similar to the way that Delmar had behaved, when he had lied to her, and not heard things she had said. Ajalia sighed, and traced her finger along the translation stone.
"You are very exotic," Hal said critically, "and that is good, but I think you need to look more like a Slavithe woman. We have our women here very modest, you know," Hal told her. "They keep very plain in their clothes, and their hair is dressed simply."
"Yes," Ajalia agreed. She did not see any virtue in the way that the Slavithe women dressed, but she was not about to start an argument with the man. She wondered what Hal found immodest about her own cream robe.
"Your hair, for example," Hal said, frowning, "is very exciting. I think it would be better if you did not look so beautiful."
Ajalia felt a small smile creeping out over her cheeks. She realized that Hal did not seem to understand how forward he sounded.
"Your hair is a very nice color," Hal said, leaning his cheek on one hand. "I think the waves are nice, too. But other people here might not like it as much," he added. "They don't like anyone to look too different."
Ajalia was coming now to the part of the leather that described how to work the spell. As she read laboriously over the words, she began, in the back of her mind, to think of how she could reverse the spell, and quickly undo whatever damage the witches had caused. Hal prattled on, his voice growing warm and interested.
"And then there's your position with Delmar," Hal said. "He introduced you as his friend, but I think you might need to think seriously about how your relationship will look to other people in Slavithe. I know that you're not in love with him," Hal said soberly, "but you are very beautiful, and I can think of several young men who would think you were a flirt merely for being with him when he works."
"I see," Ajalia said. She glanced up at Hal, and saw that his eyes were fixed thoughtfully on her face. He looked thoroughly absorbed in his subject matter, and his eyes were resting with great familiarity now on Ajalia, as though she were a patient that required his careful diagnosis
"Of course," Hal said, "now that Delmar has sponsored you, you'll have to think about getting married. You don't look very old," Hal said, "but you might be, because you're so powerful already. You should think about that. Of course, you don't have to listen to anything that I say," the dark-eyed man said, "but that's my opinion."
"Who should I marry?" Ajalia asked, feeling a li
ttle amused.
"Well, there's me," Hal said, without a trace of irony in his eyes. "I wouldn't be a bad choice," he added. Ajalia said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the scrap of leather, and her fingers traced slowly along the letters as she matched them up with the symbols from the translation stone. "I'm not wealthy," Hal said, and he sounded lost inside of a dream, "but you are, and you're very pretty."
"Thanks," Ajalia said mildly. Hal blinked, and sat up.
"I don't want to marry you," Hal explained quickly, "but I was thinking about it just now. You'll have to marry someone soon."
"Why?" Ajalia asked. She turned the scrap of leather over, and began to work through the symbols on the opposite side. She was coming now to the part of the spell that described in more detail the long-term effects of the spell, both on the one who used it, and the one upon whom it was used. Hal frowned again, and he seemed to be deep in thought.
"You're very pretty," Hal said. "Pretty girls get married."
"Oh," Ajalia said. She finished the scrap of leather, and opened the folded piece of paper. "I was not considered pretty in the East," she told Hal, putting her finger against the top of the page, and beginning to work.
"Really?" Hal asked. He looked surprised. "That seems very strange," he said.
"Why?" she asked, without looking up.
"Well," Hal said. "You're just so pretty." She glanced up at him, and saw that he was staring at her wistfully.
"The only man who was interested in me before was an old drunk," Ajalia said mildly, turning her eyes back to the page.
"Maybe you weren't as pretty before," Hal suggested. Ajalia smiled, and she thought that this was entirely possible.
"Maybe," she agreed.
"You're sure pretty now, though," Hal commented. He watched her translate, and then, after a few moments, he spoke again. "Has Delmar ever told you that?" he asked.
