The Sage's Consort (The Scholars of Elandria Book 1)

by Craiker, Krystal

“No, my lady. Just folks passing through. We are not even sure if they are Elandrians. I have men stationed in villages throughout the country to find out what they can.”

  The King spoke for the first time. “Amarice, do you think it could be the Lazori? They have been quite frustrated with our terms for the latest trade agreement. I know they believe in evil magic.”

  Amarice did not know. It could be the Lazori, but she felt villagers would recognize the travelers as foreign. She thought it far more likely to be a political group responding the new laws regarding the Deyoni and the protection of the earth. She knew many in small towns hated the work she and other Scholars had done to increase the rights of the Deyoni. Perhaps the two Scholars who had been slaughtered in their inn were advocates for the nomadic people. But that did not explain why these people, whoever they were, would burn a forest. They discussed their theories some more.

  “As always, keep me informed. I will go through the histories to see if I can find anything that sounds similar.”

  The Chief Inquisitor thanked her and excused himself. “Are you quite all right, Amarice?” King Roland asked her. She shrugged. He appraised her, but he did not push her to talk more. “Very well. Thank you for coming into town. How is your new apprentice doing?”

  Amarice grinned, despite herself. “Well,” she replied. “His Gift is quite strong.” The King studied her face, as if he wanted to ask more, but he did not. He excused himself to a meeting with ministers from the parliament, and Amarice left the study to walk among the palace gardens to meditate.

  Chapter Ten

  Amarice’s laughter rang through the air like the perfect song. Quinn laughed, too, happiness and pride filling his soul. He had just grown a small harvest of asparagus from seed to stalk for the first time. “We’re eating that tonight!” she exclaimed. “Excellent work.” She pulled herself up from the ground in the eastern garden and dusted the dirt off the back of her pale blue dress.

  A month had passed since Amarice’s trip to the palace. Quinn’s abilities had undergone a drastic improvement. Though he kept his emotions to himself most of the time, he had practiced opening himself up to harness his Gift. Fire seemed to be the easiest for him to control. The last week he had taken to starting every fireplace in the Villa himself. For fun, he would raise and shrink the flames, while everyone around him shivered. Amarice was unsure what he would do as the weather grew warmer and there was no need for fireplaces.

  He still struggled with growing plants, and he spent hours every day with buckets of seeds in the garden. He had no control over water at all, but he had successfully changed the direction of the breeze the day before. Whenever he grew frustrated, jolts of visible magic would shoot from his fingers, but he had worked hard to ensure it caused no danger. He did not want to incinerate any more of the Sage’s belongings.

  Amarice learned to recognize his frustration before it boiled over. Whenever Quinn struggled with a block on his magic, she instructed him to take inventory of his emotions. Today, in a fit of asparagus-inspired anger, he had told her he kept imagining the misery of farming with his father. He shook himself; he had never told anyone of the strained father-son relationship he had known his whole life. And yet, telling Amarice just seemed right.

  As always, she listened with empathy. She had let him sit in silence for a few minutes before she told him to try again. He placed his hand on the soil over the spot where the seeds lay beneath the ground, and imagined himself pulling the stalks from the earth. What felt like flames left his palm, and he could feel the growth of the seeds beneath the dirt. Slowly, he moved his hand away, and the stalks of asparagus followed the trails of magic. Soon, he had about a dozen stalks of asparagus.

  She turned to walk back to the Villa. “That won’t feed too many people,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “Grow some more.” Quinn laughed and watched her walk away, one of his favorite pastimes.

  With his newfound abilities, Quinn’s confidence had grown, as well. He acted less shy around everyone at the Villa, especially Amarice. They spent hours every day together, often just talking. She imparted her knowledge of politics and diplomacy. He gave her his thoughts and interpretations on history and laws. Often, they would enter the veranda for dinner together, continuing a lighthearted debate on something historical or political, much to the chagrin of most of the Villa’s residents, who had grown bored with their overtly-Scholar discussions.

  His letters to Rafe raved about his life at the Villa. He wrote in detail the things he learned about earth magic, hoping it would be of some use to his friend. He told him what he had learned of the Deyoni: how they, too, had earth magic but not in the same way the Scholars did. He told him the Sage’s perspective on the Deyoni’s history, that their lands were taken by the earliest settlers in the Valley and were squashed when they rose to defend themselves. “They are an old people, the oldest in Elandria. They are not savage and simple. We should not be so quick to dismiss them. I believe Scholars have much to learn from their ancient magic,” Quinn wrote.

  No new attacks had occurred, and the King’s Inquisitors had no further leads. Amarice was cautiously hopeful that the attacks had ended for good. Still, the Deyoni feared for their safety, and more and more tribes poured into and around Teleah. Scholars in the Forest of Seluya made slow but steady progress in revitalizing the forest as they learned how to do the magic of which Amarice had written.

  Many of the Villa’s Scholars had left to travel for their work, and occasionally visitors would arrive for a day or two. Sometimes they were friends of the Villa residents; other times Amarice met with members of Parliament who sought her advice on proposed legislation. Quinn learned much from these meetings.

  Overall, the mood at the Villa was bright. Quinn now felt completely at home. The days grew longer, and the weather grew warmer. Quinn was the happiest he had ever been.

  One afternoon, he heard voices coming from the library as he went to grab a book he wanted. He stopped himself pushing open the door when he heard his name. Ignoring his moral compass telling him not to eavesdrop, he paused and listened to the conversation.

  “Amarice, if you would just sleep with him for all of our sakes. Especially yours.” Daisy’s voice carried through the walls.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s my apprentice, nothing more.”

  “That’s never stopped you before.”

  “Drop it, Daisy.” Amarice’s voice held a warning.

  “Amarice, I’m speaking as your friend. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “This conversation is over.” The door to the library flung open, and Amarice looked at Quinn with wide eyes.

  He stammered an apology, and she pushed past him without a word. Daisy followed, offering a look of sympathy at Quinn as she passed.

  Quinn waited until the corridor had cleared before returning to his room. He slammed his fist on his door in frustration. He knew Amarice regularly took lovers, sometimes residents of the Villa, other times visitors from the capital. He had to fight off a monster of jealousy every time someone mentioned sleeping with Amarice.

  He lay on his bed. Of course, he wanted her, but his attraction was so much deeper than just physical. He felt drawn to her mind, to her humor. He still felt amazed by her every second they were together. But Quinn was shy and inexperienced; he was also her apprentice. He had forced himself to fight his desire for her except in the deepest hours of the night. He had believed he would never have her because it would be inappropriate.

  But now he felt confused. Apparently, Amarice had no problem bedding with her apprentices. Perhaps she wasn’t attracted to Quinn, but Daisy made it sound otherwise. Maybe she could sense his innocence and did not want an inexperienced lover. But he wanted to be more than her lover. He was falling in love with the Sage of Elandria, the most powerful woman to ever walk the earth.

  He screamed into his pillow.

  ***

  Choking. Gasping. Quinn struggled
for air, fighting back against his faceless assailant. He grasped at his neck to no avail. He felt himself grow weaker, darkness filling his thoughts until he could see nothing, feel nothing. He was gone.

  Quinn bolted upright from his bad, gasping for air. It took him several minutes to slow his breathing and realize he was, in fact, alive. He rubbed his neck that still felt pain as he searched his room. He was alone; his door was still locked. It was a dream, he told himself. He felt reassured for just a moment, until he remembered what his dreams of late had meant.

  He glanced at the clock. Just after midnight. He needed to walk, to breathe in the fresh air. He wondered if he would run into Amarice again, wondered if she had had the same dream. Of course she had, he thought as he pulled on a shirt. This one felt far more real than the others. He grabbed his Scholar’s pendant from his bedside table out of habit then thought better of it. A heavy chain seemed far too restrictive for his neck after the nightmare.

  He unlocked his bedroom door and opened it into the cool midnight breeze that flowed through the corridor. He used his Gift to enhance his body heat and warm himself, then he walked into the courtyard. The moonlight reflecting on the water of the fountain was the only source of light tonight. He wandered slowly through the grass and evergreen trees, but Amarice was nowhere to be found. Maybe she slept soundly, and tonight’s dream had no deeper meaning. He tried to convince himself of this, to no avail.

  There was no use returning to his bedroom; his mind was far too awake to sleep. He found his way to the library and lit the fireplace. He feared what news would come in the next few days. He still did not understand why only he and Amarice had these dreams. There were other powerful Scholars in Elandria; it did not make sense for only him to share this connection to the Sage. He sighed. For now, he would lose himself in the words of others and worry about this dream tomorrow.

  Quinn read in the library until pale yellow light crept through the windows. Yawning, he turned toward the clock; he had enough time to bathe and change before breakfast. Then he could discuss this dream with Amarice. But at this moment, all he wanted was several cups of coffee.

  Amarice was not in the veranda when he entered, which was unusual. She was normally early to breakfast, chatting happily with Madge and the others. He took his seat and poured himself some coffee. Slowly, the rest of the Villa residents entered, some cheerful, others far less talkative. None of the Scholars had slept well, it seemed, but no one had the same dream. Quinn ate his eggs in silence. A half-hour passed, and Amarice still had not arrived. He considered going to find her, even though no one ever went to her personal chambers. Still, a knock to see if she was all right would not hurt. He mulled over this point and had nearly decided to go find her after breakfast, when she entered the veranda.

  Her un-brushed hair had been pinned carelessly away from her face. She wore a wool shawl over her dress, unusual attire for the fashion-conscious Sage. Her eyes were red and puffy with dark circles underneath.

  “You look terrible, Amarice,” Daisy said.

  “Thank you.” Amarice’s sarcasm stung this morning. She took her seat at the head of the table and met no one’s eyes. She just sat, staring off into space. Everyone else chose to ignore her, except for Quinn. He poured her a cup of coffee. She nodded in thanks and downed the coffee in one swallow

  He poured her another cup. “You should eat something. You’ll feel better. I was up all night, too.” She looked at his face and her lip quivered. “It’s all right. We’ll talk about it later.” He spooned some eggs on her plate.

  Amarice ate a few bites and finished her second cup of coffee. She did not speak until she rose from the table. “Come.” Quinn followed her from the veranda through the ivy-lined walkway that led toward the river.

  She walked slowly down the hill. The rush of the water grew louder as they drew nearer. Quinn noticed many of the trees had begun to turn greener. Spring was not far away. At the banks of the river, Amarice sat and stuck her feet in the icy water. The water slowed to a gentle pace, and, he knew, was probably quite warm from her magic. Quinn had no desire to follow suit; water was still an element with which he struggled. Instead he sat cross-legged next to her.

  “Choking?” she asked. She seemed to struggle with sentences this morning. He nodded. She closed her eyes. He listened to her breath for a while. After some time, she spoke again. “It’s been nearly two months.” Quinn nodded again, unsure what to say. Several more minutes passed in silence. “There’s nothing to do but wait for news, I suppose.”

  Quinn looked at her face. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He fought the desire to reach out and wipe it away. “Why us?” he asked her. She still had no answer for him. They continued to just sit on the banks, watching the river run, the fish jumping in and out of the water. The sun grew higher in the sky, kissing Quinn’s face with warmth. The morning birds began their songs. For all the darkness of the night, the morning still rose lovely.

  Amarice broke the silence. “There is a state dinner at the palace next week. A Lazori minister is coming to discuss the trade agreements with the King. Though I doubt the Lazori are behind these attacks, we mustn’t rule out anything. The King believes they might be; or else, he wants to believe it.” She paused and turned toward Quinn. “I’d like for you to come with me, to get your thoughts and intuitions on the matter.”

  A smile broke across Quinn’s face, despite everything. His first diplomatic assignment—and dinner at the palace! He had never dreamed he would have the opportunity. And Amarice cared about his thoughts, his finely tuned intuition that came with the Gift of the Earth. “Of course,” he said, far more composed than he felt. She smiled in return, some light returning to her eyes.

  “You’ll need to brush up on your knowledge of the Lazori.”

  He nodded. He recalled the basics: their superstitions, their tenuous relationship with Elandria, their deplorable practices of human slavery. It was the slavery that kept King Roland from establishing too many trade agreements with them. He would have banned all trade with Lazoria if he did not fear it would result in war. But recently, he had pushed Parliament to raise the tariffs on Lazori goods to discourage Elandrians from trade. The Lazori government was not happy.

  “You should get some rest, Quinn, if your night was anything like mine. I think I’ll return to bed. I’ll let you know the minute I have news.” She stood, and touched his shoulder gently. He shivered at her touch. “Don’t fear sleep.” Amarice turned away and walked up the hill toward her chambers. A part of him wished he was going with her.

  That morning, in a small town outside of Teeh, a Messenger’s screams woke the citizens. People rushed from their homes and businesses to see what was wrong.

  There, on the tree that marked the town’s center, a female Scholar hung. Her face was blue; it appeared she had been strangled by her own Scholar’s pendant before being nailed to the tree. Her clothes had been stripped from her, and on her belly, the word “SIN” had been carved by a knife. Blood dripped and stained the grass below.

  Hundreds of miles away, on the southern peninsula, one of the few remaining Deyoni camps sat, a flash of color on the winter-touched plain. No Deyoni rose this morning from their silken tents. Their fire burned untended, and the smell of burning flesh mingled with the cold breeze. Thirty burned corpses lay near the fire and would not be discovered for days.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amarice laughed at Quinn’s boyish excitement. He had spent most of the carriage ride down the mountain asking detailed questions about etiquette and expectations, nervous about getting anything wrong at the palace. “Relax, Quinn. King Roland will make you feel quite welcome.” Quinn tried his hardest to relax but failed.

  “Are you sure my clothes are appropriate?”

  “No.” He looked at her with wide eyes full of panic. “I think it best you just attend dinner naked.” He blinked, then realized she was teasing him. He forced a nervous laugh. “You will be fine.” He left her alone for
a few minutes, and she mused on the prospect of him attending dinner at the palace without clothes. She hid her smile.

  The carriage stopped at the base of the mountain for the horse to drink. Quinn climbed out to stretch; he did look cramped in the carriage with his height. Amarice stayed inside. She was not looking forward to the state dinner. She had heard rumors of the Lazori minister’s repugnant personality, and recent events did not have her feeling overly diplomatic.

  The latest attack had given some credence to the King’s theory that the Lazori might be behind the attacks. Their rigid morality and degradation of women and slaves did not endear them to the Elandrians. Still, Amarice had her doubts. The people of Lazoria were highly suspicious of magic, but she had never heard of them viewing it as sinful. And the country’s largest issue with Elandria was political in nature and did not concern the Scholars as a group. This latest Deyoni attack was at the farthest corner of Elandria from Lazoria. Her mind thought back to the slaughter of the Deyoni a few months’ prior. She felt certain the attacks on the tribe and the burning of the forest were related to the deaths of the Scholars, and those did not seem likely to concern the rulers in Lazoria.

  Quinn had mentioned that in his village earth magic and Deyoni were both viewed as sinful and degenerate. She knew many of the outlying villages held the same ideas and clung to various illogical religious traditions. But these attacks had happened all over Elandria, not in one isolated region. There were no major organized religions in Elandria to orchestrate these attacks. Perhaps dinner with the Lazori minister would give her some new insight into the cause. Or else prove I’m right, she thought bitterly.

  The carriage door opened and Quinn took his seat across from Amarice. The carriage driver peered his head inside. “Do you wish to stop at the Deyoni camps, my lady?”

  Amarice shook her head. “Not today. We will stop on our return journey.” The driver nodded and shut the door. The horse began trotting southward to Teleah again. “Quinn, I have arranged for you to be seated near some of the Scholars of Parliament and a few of the Lazori traveling party. Listen for anything that might suggest the Lazori have knowledge of the attacks.”