by R. K. Thorne
“By the gods, Aven, have you gone insane? Don’t think like that.”
“I want us both to be happy.” And he had felt her fear so clearly, her gut instinct that she would not be happy. Even if she denied it, he knew what he had felt.
“I can’t be happy without you either, though.”
He pulled her into a hug and breathed her in, catching different scents of violet, rose, mint on top of the lavender. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.
“This is a big adjustment,” she said softly into his ear. “I’ve gone from having nothing to potentially having what feels like the whole world. I can’t even take a bath without feeling guilty for those back home.”
She was right. Maybe all she needed was time.
“Except that’s not home. I have no home. I want this to be my home. But I’m still very much an outsider here.”
He pulled away, frowning.
“No, no, don’t argue that I’m not. Just give it time, Aven.”
He sighed. “Patience is not one of my strengths.”
“You were doing so well up until a few minutes ago, though.” She grinned. He studied her face and decided she did not mean it critically.
“Well, at least it wasn’t those banquet tables we talked about.”
She chuckled. “That sounds uncomfortable anyway. But what brought this on? Last night?”
“Last night combined with my guilt over avoiding you this morning. Colliding with a nice chat I had with Derk.”
She raised an amused eyebrow. “A nice chat, huh?”
“It could have gone worse. I didn’t beat him to a pulp.”
“Wait—is that a victory or a defeat?”
“A victory of my patience, but apparently I had none left after that. No, but more seriously. He must have picked up on something between us. He talks like an ass, but his intentions seemed good.”
“Hmm. Sure they were.”
“Well, he did want to find you and take off his shirt. But he seemed to be just goading me. He may think I’ve taken you for a mistress or am planning to. And he was rightfully offended by the idea.”
She smirked. “Well, that is sweet in a way. But I’m sure he’d be a lot less offended if he found me more hideous.”
Aven laughed. “Maybe so. Either way, at least I didn’t eviscerate him.”
“What happened to your hand?”
“Oh. That. Well, we did exchange a few magic-related blows.” He gasped as he felt the skin itch, heat, pucker—and then his hand was back to normal again. “Warning next time, maybe?”
“We’ll see. We should go find Camil. She may have a few… questions.”
“Wunik, can you get closer to the tower? Look at that. Are they—” Miara pointed into the window of light. She, Aven, Wunik, and Derk had gathered on the starlit balcony to make another attempt at freeing a mage slave.
“Shackled? The mages are shackled to the towers? By the gods,” Aven breathed.
A rush of excitement ran through Miara’s veins. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Masters were afraid of something. And that something was her and Aven.
“The Masters must know Jaena got free somehow,” Miara said, “although that doesn’t prove she actually made it out. Or if any of those we freed did. The Masters could have discovered Menaha and Kae too, I guess.”
Derk nodded. “The Masters need mages to guard them against external attacks—air and earth attacks, in particular. But those would be the easiest positions for a freed mage to escape from. They cracked down.”
Again, the night was eerily still and silent. No one was about. “Gods,” Aven grumbled. “We are never going to free anyone this way, let alone even a few.”
Miara sighed, although she wanted to groan outright. She didn’t want to let her discouragement with the situation show, though. “Over there, Wunik. Can you get closer to the temple? Maybe someone is near there. The columns are high and there are no shutters on some of those windows.”
Wunik moved the window of light slowly toward the building Miara indicated. The high, pale columns of the temple came into view. “Try that garden over there,” she said. Could Menaha have reached Sefim with her message? Was this simply wishful thinking? She was dreaming, wasn’t she? The guards had ensured that no one was outside. “Argh, try the next one.”
“I think no one’s out. Their curfew is still in place,” said Wunik.
“Gods, I hope they let them eat,” she said. “Menaha said they hadn’t let them out for dinner yesterday, even.”
Aven folded his arms across his chest. “By Anara, I hope they’re not suffering more without any of them even escaping. Damn it. Where else do you want to try—”
“Wait—there!” Miara pointed.
Three statues sat on a bench with wall fountains burbling behind them. The stone had been carved in the forms of monks, legs crossed in meditation.
“What about it?” said Wunik.
“There are usually two statues. Can you go closer?”
They drifted closer, and indeed, the middle statue was a bit stouter than expected.
Sefim?
The statue’s eyes snapped open, startling Derk, who took a step back. Wunik let out a soft chuckle.
Miara?
Thank the gods. I’m glad you… figured out a way. There’s still a curfew?
“Working on it,” came Aven’s voice. Sefim’s eyes closed again.
Yes. But apparently the guards are rather inattentive to religious statues. Now I just have to sit here the rest of the night.
Well, at least you’ll be free while you do it.
Truly?
We’re working on it. What news?
Over a dozen new mages arrived today, but none have been branded yet. They’re being kept in the dungeons, which are now full to the brim. Maybe they haven’t branded them because there are so many. There have been more than usual each day, but this was high by even normal standards. They are actively trying to increase our numbers, I think. Also rumor has it at least one mage has escaped. Some rumors say two. I think those count your escape.
Jaena, Menaha, Kae?
Kae—no. Menaha told me to tell you he was summoned by the Dark Master this morning for some kind of mission.
Miara caught her breath. What terrible luck. The knots would not work on him with the bond broken. Would he have to act the part? Would it even be possible to fool them? Kae hadn’t seemed like he had much ability at deception. Do you know any more about the mission?
No. But I think it must have been Jaena who escaped. Menaha was unable to find her anywhere, although she didn’t dare ask specifically in case that aroused any suspicion by association.
Good thinking.
“It’s done,” Aven said, voice gentle, almost forlorn. “Is there any chance we’ll find anyone else?”
“One more moment, and we’ll look around. But I doubt it.”
There. You’re free, Sefim.
He took a deep breath, taking in the moment, an even more perfect picture of meditation than the statues at each side. Then she heard softly, Thank you, Miara.
It’s not me. It’s my… friend.
Sefim’s eyebrow twitched, made all the more subtly humorous looking by his statue imitation. Your… friend, eh? Should I be telling your father you have a ‘friend’?
He did not seem at all mystified by what she meant. Which figured. He had always seen right past her barriers and into her soul, and speaking this way doubtlessly did not help. If you see him, certainly. Have you any news of his whereabouts?
None new. Menaha told me what she told you, and neither of us have seen any change in the situation. But wait—who is this friend?
The prince I kidnapped.
Now a smile spread across his otherwise still face. Didn’t I tell you not to worry about your soul? He sobered, probably remembering his disguise. The Masters perpetrate this evil, and the Balance will bring justice back to them.
I hope you’re right. But this
whole bringing justice business personally is new to me.
You’re going to be a natural. I can tell.
Sunlight filtered through the dust motes that came through the library windows. Daes had hoped never to open this library. This wasn’t somewhere he had ever wanted to be. It was a place of forbidden magic, the kind of magic that he wanted to destroy.
But when all your power rests on one thing, it makes a certain sense to have a backup plan.
Three air mages trailed him, ready for his orders.
“I suppose you’ll need to clean this place up first. I don’t know how long it’s been since someone’s been in here.” Daes certainly had no desire to touch anything. The dust was a fingernail thick on some of these tomes. “If you think it will slow you too much, I can arrange for more mages to help you, although access to this room will be strictly controlled.”
“What are we doing here?” the young blond one said.
The comment seemed a little out of turn, but Daes chose to ignore it. “I have a special mission for you,” he said. “Something a little different.”
He turned left when they reached the far side of the library and headed down to the stacks that were the farthest from the door. An alcove separated a handful of tomes from the rest of the collection. A shaft of wheat hung over the top of the alcove. Whether it was meant to protect or signify something, Daes wasn’t sure, but it seemed a little decorative for his tastes.
The three mages followed obediently and stopped as he did upon reaching the alcove.
“What I have to tell you I command you not to repeat. I seek the creation of a second brand to further our mage control efforts.”
“A second one?” said the mage that had spoken up at first. Again, the comment struck Daes as a little odd. But he couldn’t put his finger on why. This boy had been a talkative one the few other times Daes had had the misfortune to run into him. Perhaps he just didn’t like the boy or that peasant accent he had.
“Yes, a second one. For traveling.” The Masters had enough rumors flying around; they didn’t need these mages to know that the real brand was missing. No one needed to know that. He would find it. It wouldn’t be long now.
But just in case he didn’t.
“As you know, the Devoted Knights are working hard to bring more mages to Mage Hall, and we almost can’t keep up with them. In addition, some mages have to be transported long distances from other kingdoms. It would behoove us to have more options, perhaps to enslave them first or to create a second major control site. And that’s where you come in.”
Daes spread his hands wide at the shelves of tomes behind him. “I am told that these books contain the knowledge that was originally used to create the brand. As you can imagine, these texts are quite old and fragile. You will use the utmost care and secrecy in dealing with them.”
He pinned them under his gaze, studying their posture, their faces for some hint of what they thought of this assignment. If he had learned anything from dealing with the rebellious creature mage, it was that perhaps the mages’ temperaments should figure into his plans. At least a little. He could have taken the hint, noticed her temperament as an indicator to watch her more carefully. Seulka had been right about that much, and that much only. Exactly why he’d sent her off on a fool’s errand to keep her out of his hair. But if he’d listened to her and paid the mage’s temperament more mind, been less arrogant, he could have sent other mages on that journey with the creature mage, and that might have prevented all that had transpired. He could have—
No, it didn’t matter. He was second-guessing himself again. He had been trying to study the mages, but he wasn’t even paying attention. He redoubled his focus.
None of the three mages looked particularly comfortable about the assignment, but none of them had that rebellious streak in their eyes either. The young blond one looked determined not to meet Daes’s gaze. The oldest one stared off into space, shoulders stooped, long ago defeated. The tall, dark-haired one studied the room with curiosity. None of them gave him any explicit reason for concern.
Perhaps he should give them a reason for concern.
“You have seven days.”
Now the oldest one looked up, slight alarm in his eyes. “Seven days?” He glanced at his colleagues nervously. Neither of the younger men reacted.
“What, too long?” Daes said with a wicked smile. The fool blanched. “Seven days.” Daes kept his voice hard as iron. The older man hung his head as if he’d accepted a death sentence. Daes wanted to give him a good shove. He barely held the urge in check. If one thought the battle was lost before it had even begun, one was sure to lose. Should he get a replacement for this one already? But this oldest mage was also the most experienced, so he decided to let it slide. If the spineless husk was still looking like he would have a heart attack at the end of the second day, perhaps then Daes might take some action.
Daes’s smile grew to a grin. “You had better get to work.”
8
Demonstration
Miara sliced another section of apple and held it out. The white mare chomped happily away. Her mane was striking, her demeanor calm. All these things steadied Miara’s nerves. The demonstration was to start any moment now, but she’d stolen away for a few moments to herself.
She wasn’t hiding. She was just… gathering her strength. Searching for a way to convince herself that she was not in far over her head and about to do something entirely stupid and dangerous. Of course, she’d been quite talented at doing some stupid and dangerous things and getting away with them.
But none of those had required an audience.
She forced a deep breath. Gods, what was she thinking? She was just a horse healer, and that glorified how she’d spent most of her life. It didn’t take a mage to muck a stall. Right now, she would have preferred that chore to what she needed to do.
Someone’s eyes were on her now, she realized. Warden Asten had appeared at the back of the stall and was eying her.
Oh. “This your horse?” Miara said.
Asten nodded, approaching with more caution than Miara would have expected.
“She’s beautiful. I gave her some apple, I hope you don’t mind.” Gods, she should have asked first. She hadn’t thought she’d get caught, but she should have either way. And she should have realized they’d all be gathering down here anyway. Great, she was already estranging the very people she needed to win over.
“Thank you,” Asten said, holding out a hand. Miara sliced another section of apple and gave it to her. Well, perhaps no harm done after all. The mare chomped loudly. “She’s a fine steed, from the Delagosan line out of Dramsren.” Did Asten expect her to know this, or was she simply making conversation? She could only hope it was just small talk.
“I never saw anything so fine in Kavanar,” Miara replied. “Mostly Southern Beylans and Hepani Creams out that way.”
Asten nodded again, smiling. “Makes sense, if you don’t need a warhorse.”
“No wonder she’s so calm with a stranger feeding her an apple.”
“She hasn’t seen much battle. But we’re ready, when the day comes. Which may be sooner than later, I fear.”
Miara frowned. She hadn’t been paying the horse’s health much mind. Some horse healer she was. She needed her strength for what they’d planned, but… Perhaps she could stave off an ailment that might critically weaken the mare in the battles to come. “Well, let me give her a look, eh?” Miara skimmed her mind over the mare, first her skin, then shoulders, stomach and all those inner workings, down to her legs and hooves. A fine steed, indeed, and in very good health. Oh, but the back hoof— “She having any problems with this leg?” Miara pointed at the back left one.
Asten frowned. “I noted a bit of a change to her gait on the last stretch of the way here, but nothing specific to one leg yet.”
Miara nodded and handed the apple to Asten. “Takes time for the signs to show in the hooves, all too often.”
“Ind
eed, it’s a shame how many a horse is brought low by injuries so suddenly.” Asten cut off her own slice of the apple to give to the mare.
Miara stepped around the warden and caressed the mare’s side as she stepped back a few feet. There, she could grasp it now—tiny bits of life squirmed on the hoof’s left side that didn’t belong there. To her mind, the hoof felt fiery, oozing.
She beckoned the mare to lift the hoof and winced at the sight. “Ah, beginning of an abscess here. Well, lucky we caught this, or it might have slowed you down.” The wounds were hard to catch until the horse was damn near lame and unwilling to walk, and could take weeks to resolve without magical assistance.
Should she wait till after the demonstration? No. The gods didn’t give her these abilities only to raise eyebrows and drop jaws. She poured a small amount of energy into the natural resistance of the hoof and guided the tiny squirming bits out and away. Probing further, she’d probably stepped on something, maybe a nail. With a touch more magic carefully placed, the slice in the heel began to close. Even that small effort was more than was needed, as the mare attested by stamping the now hot foot.
Aven’s voice caught her ears. Not calling for her yet, but talking to someone in the courtyard. Enough hiding—er, gathering her strength. Searching for calm. Right.
“It should be healed now, but keep a watch on it,” she said, patting the mare. “If you notice something more, I can look at it again in a few days. I think they are getting ready for us.”
“Uh, thank you, Miara. And I believe they’re getting ready for you, in particular,” Asten said.
Thanks for the reminder, she thought. She stalked toward the center of the stable ground, where the horses were turned out for exercise. Asten followed, half an apple in hand.
Aven caught her eyes from the back of the crowd. He was standing with that damn dvora, clad in a pristine sky blue. Miara had cast aside thoughts of queenly politics for her clothing today, not that she’d embraced them very well in the first place. She wore the leathers of a royal guardsman she’d convinced Camil to track down. She was not demonstrating magic in a courtly affair. This was war. Aven’s gaze flicked to her hand—oh, she’d forgotten to sheathe the knife. Did that look odd without the apple as explanation? Oh well, too late now.
