About the only thing she’d ever managed to do consistently was a whirlwind, usually outside where it could pick up dry leaves and dust. But she couldn’t think of anything else. Even if it only distracted him, maybe she could get past him to unbolt the door and get out.
She felt the air swirling, around her but nothing much else seemed to be happening. Something brushed her shoulder. Ailsa jumped, heart beating faster than ever, but it was only the vine from outside her window that had somehow gotten sucked into the whirlwind.
The whirlwind picked up speed and the sharpened quill pen leaped up from the table, striking the man just below his eye. He stopped and clapped his hand to the spot, cursing. Then he rushed at her. Ailsa dodged aside. For an instant, she hoped his momentum would carry him out the window. The man put his hands out to brace himself against the windowsill. Somehow, his hands got tangled in the vines writhing there and he had to struggle to free himself. This was the best chance she was likely to get. Ailsa ran to the door and unbolted it. She yanked the door open.
A maid stood out in the hall, mouth hanging open, hand raised to knock on the door. In her other hand, the maid held a tray with a covered dish. Ailsa’s dinner.
Ailsa swallowed down the urge to scream. “Don’t just stand there. Go call the guards, or the landlord, or whoever’s in charge. That man tried to attack me.”
The maid set down the tray and scampered back down the stairs. Ailsa slipped out into the hall and slammed the door behind her. She followed the maid to the top of the stairs, ready to run, but hesitated to go down to the public rooms in nothing but her shift and robe. She could hear muttered curses and thumping noises from behind her closed door, but the man didn’t come bursting out to attack her again as she feared. She waited, shivering, until the landlord clumped up the stairs to take charge of the situation. Two burly men followed the landlord. By their clothing, they’d come from the stables.
Ailsa stood aside to let the men go past her to her room. Exclamations and thumps followed before the three men came back to the door. Ailsa huddled back in a corner while they dragged the man, struggling against their hold on him, out into the hallway and down the stairs. The innkeeper’s stout wife came up the stairs and guided Ailsa back to her room.
When they’d gone, the landlady fussed over Ailsa for a few minutes, seeing her settled in the chair, with the tray of food on the table in front of her. “Now, don’t you worry. Ferd’s already sent a boy to town for the Imperial Guard. That man won’t get back inside this inn. You’re safe. You should eat a little something, eh? Then sleep.”
Sleep! That was about the last thing Ailsa thought she could do. She wanted to run straight home, where she’d be safe. But that would mean three more days on the coach. She wasn’t at all sure she could stand that—even without that man sitting in the same space. She wished she were already with her grandmother. Ailsa took a deep breath. Grandmama was the perfect combination of comfort and encouragement. Always pragmatic, too. Tomorrow night. She just had to hold on until then.
Sighing, she took a bite just to appease the innkeeper’s hovering wife. Satisfied, the woman patted Ailsa on the shoulder and left. Ailsa got up and bolted the door, then paced across the room several times. Her stomach was too knotted for her to eat, good as the food smelled. She pulled her braid around and chewed absently on the end. Mama hated when she did that. The thought of Mama’s irritation helped to steady her. Something normal to focus on, but so was the chewing. An old and comforting habit.
She should have asked the innkeeper’s wife to stay awhile. Ailsa didn’t want to be alone right now. Maybe she should put her traveling dress back on and go downstairs. No. She couldn’t stand the thought of the busy common room and the guards who’d failed to protect her. Besides, she wouldn’t be any less alone there. Not really. She wished again that Mama and Papa were here to comfort her. Even more, she wished Sav was here to hold her and make her feel safe again. He’d always been good at cheering her up when things were rough back home. Maybe if she wrote to them, it would be at least a little like having them here. She couldn’t think of anything else to do. She couldn’t eat and she certainly couldn’t sleep. Not yet.
She ran her hands across the smooth leather of her traveling desk. It helped a little to remember Papa giving that to her for this trip. She reached inside for another quill and sharpened it with the small pen knife. After a moment’s thought, she slipped the pen knife into the pocket of her robe.
She sat and stared at the page. Impossible to write to her father about this. She just couldn’t. Sav. She could write about it to Sav. Ailsa’s hand shook as she picked up her pen.
Oh, Sav, I wish you were here. I want you to hold me and tell me it’ll be all right. I don’t have anyone to talk to about what just happened. I need to tell you this, because you were always the one I could talk to about anything, but you mustn’t tell Papa. He’d go to your father and that would only make things worse. You know how your father gets when he thinks Papa expects special treatment. That’s why I was on the public coach in the first place.
I’m all right, but I’m still scared and I won’t be able to sleep until I tell someone. I know you’ll understand how I feel.
She wrote as clear a summary of what had just happened as she could. There was something cathartic about putting it down. The fear seemed to flow down the pen and drain away with the ink. Somehow, it made Sav feel closer, too.
Thank you, Sav. I feel better now. I’ll put the chair under the doorknob and go to bed. Maybe I’ll even be able to sleep a little. Tomorrow night I’ll be in the capital and with my grandmother. I’ll be safe, then.
She folded the letter and sealed it with a dab of wax melted in the candle flame, pressing her personal seal into the wax. She’d drop it in the courier bag downstairs in the morning, before getting on the coach for the last leg of her journey.
~
In spite of her assurances to Sav, Ailsa hadn’t managed to sleep much at all. She was tired and still shaken the next morning. She looked longingly down to the lake before boarding the coach, but she didn’t feel like walking down to the water by herself. Not anymore. Even though that horrible man was gone, she couldn’t relax in the coach. Two new passengers joined them. Strangers who made her feel uncomfortable just by their presence, although there was nothing out of the ordinary about them. The girl and her mother left the coach at the noon stop, but another man got on.
Ailsa would normally have been excited at her first view of the Old Empire, but the day was only a blur of forests, fields, and towns as she alternated between looking out the window and watching her fellow passengers. Her fingers clutched around the pen knife, which she’d transferred to her dress pocket, just in case.
The growing darkness obscured her first sight of the imperial capital, but the coach station was lit with tall streetlights. By their light, she recognized her grandmother waiting for her. It had been a few years since Grandmama last visited Far Terra. She’d gotten a little more thin and wiry and her hair was more grey than blond, now, but her face and her smile on seeing Ailsa were the same as ever. Ailsa tumbled out of the coach into her grandmother’s arms and truly relaxed for the first time all day.
“Child! You’re exhausted. What your mother was thinking, sending you alone—and on the public coach! Let’s get you home and get a warm meal into you, shall we?”
Grandmama’s house was nearby in a very quiet part of the city in the district immediately surrounding the Institute of Magical Arts. The house itself was small, even cozy. The garden was twice as large as the house and very lush. Ailsa could hardly wait until morning to explore it. Just knowing it was there lifted her spirits. Grandmama was the rarest of all mages—a green mage—but after the way King Ewart had treated her on her last visit, she and all the other green mages had refused to return to Far Terra. Think how different things could be if the king had welcomed mages instead of treating them so badly.
Grandmama sat Ailsa down at the small d
ining table and put a bowl of hot soup in front of her. “Nothing better after a long trip than a simple meal and a warm bed.”
Having eaten little all day, Ailsa applied herself to the soup.
“Oh, yes,” Grandmama said, pulling a paper from her pocket and handing it to Ailsa. “This came for you earlier. Someone’s anxious to correspond with you. I don’t recognize the writing, though. I had one from your mother, too, about all the opportunities she wants to make sure I provide for you while you’re here.”
Ailsa took the letter and looked at the address. The writing was Sav’s. Ailsa drew in a sharp breath. Her letter couldn’t have reached him already, could it? The imperial couriers were fast, but she didn’t think they were that fast. Even if he’d gotten her letter, there was no way an answer could have reached her so soon. No. Sav must have written this the day she left. In spite of her weariness, Ailsa’s lips twitched up into a smile.
“Looks like you know who it’s from,” Grandmama said with a smile.
“Yes. It’s from my best friend, Prince Savyon.” Ailsa turned the letter over and stopped. The seal had been broken and then resealed, slightly awry. “It’s been opened.”
“I noticed that when it arrived.”
Ailsa looked up into Grandmama’s eyes. “My mail is being read? By whom?”
Grandmama shook her head. “It looks like it. And if it’s from whom you say it is, then I think we can both guess who’d have access to that letter.”
A chill went down Ailsa’s spine. The king. King Ewart was reading mail addressed to her—and probably any mail she sent back home. She’d grown up knowing that the king was paranoid about her family, but reading his own son’s letter to her seemed to be taking it pretty far, even for him. Sav’s mail! She tried quickly to remember everything she’d written to Sav and winced. She’d have to be a lot more careful in the future—and find a way to warn Sav to be careful, too.
She broke the seal—re-broke it—to find out what Sav had written to her. Nothing, really. Nothing at least that the king could object to. Sav wished her a safe and pleasant trip—again. And said how much he already missed her. That was all.
“All right. Finish up your soup, girl. Tomorrow’s a big day. I’ll be taking you to the Institute to begin your testing. You’ll want to be well rested for that.”
Ailsa blinked. She’d been expecting a day or two to rest up after her journey. She’d had no time to prepare. “Already?”
“It’s important to start you on the right courses as soon as possible. The testing alone has been known to take days.”
Days? It sounds exhausting. Ailsa wasn’t ready to think about that. What she needed was as much rest as she could get.
Before bed, Ailsa took a few minutes to finish her letter to her parents, just to let them know she’d arrived safe. She didn’t say anything about what had happened the night before. It would only worry them and there was nothing they could do about it now, anyway. She took out a fresh sheet to write a quick note to Sav, too.
I’m at my grandmother’s, safe and sound. I feel much better now. My testing starts tomorrow.
I miss you, too. I was glad and surprised to find your letter waiting for me here. Thinking of home, my memories turn to the most unlikely things. For example, I was thinking earlier of that silly game we used to play to confuse our tutors when we wanted to pass notes to each other. Remember that?
There. Hopefully Sav would catch the reference and realize that their mail was being read.
~
Savyon tore open the letter from Ailsa and devoured it. He crumpled the paper in his fist after reading about the attack. If only he could have been there to protect her. He should have been there for her. He smoothed the paper out and read it over again. Don’t tell her father? Who had a better right to know? Ailsa had always been ridiculously careful not to cause friction—all right, additional friction—between their fathers. Well, he’d honor her wishes, but she hadn’t said anything about telling his father. It was the king’s responsibility to see to the safety of all his people, after all. It wasn’t enough—not nearly enough—but it was all he could do from here.
He charged down the hall to his father’s office and barged in without waiting to knock.
Father looked up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. He set his pen down. “This had better be important.”
Savyon brandished Ailsa’s letter in the air. “Ailsa was attacked at the third coach stop.”
Father waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing I can do about that.”
Savyon’s eyes narrowed. “You knew about it? You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
Father stood up from his desk, voice rising with anger. “What’s the meddling girl to you, anyway, eh? And since when am I required to carry your messages?”
Savyon stood his ground. “How did you know?”
“I’ve had a report,” Father answered steadily.
“From whom?”
Father stared back at Savyon. “Sources. I have agents along the coach road—and elsewhere.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Savyon asked.
Father sat back down and picked up his pen. “I told you, there’s nothing I can do. It happened across the border, out of my jurisdiction.”
“That road exists only to link Far Terra with the rest of the empire. You could at least complain to the emperor, insist on better security for the coaches and their passengers after they cross the border.”
Father didn’t look up from his work. “I’m sure the emperor has better things to do. And so do I. You’re dismissed.”
Savyon stared at the top of his father’s head for a long moment. “All right. I’ll write to the emperor, then.”
Father set his pen down and looked up again. “You’ll be wasting your time. What makes you think that a letter from you would even reach the emperor?”
“Well, I’m going to try, anyway. It’s better than doing nothing.” Savyon turned on his heel and stormed back to his chambers. He threw Ailsa’s letter down on his desk and paced across the room several times, his fists balled so tight that his nails bit into his palms. He threw himself into his desk chair and slammed his fist on the desk before taking out a clean sheet of paper.
The sharp nib of his pen cut right through the paper before he even finished the address. The pen snapped in his hand. Savyon blew out a breath. He’d better calm down a little before he attempted to write to the emperor, anyway. He’d write to Ailsa first. That’d help. He sharpened another quill with quick, jerky strokes.
Dearest Ailsa,
I am very distressed to hear of your trouble. In fact, I’m so angry that I just broke the first pen I tried to write with. You should never have been subjected to that—or forced to take the public coach just to keep from arousing my father’s suspicions. I should have been there to protect you and comfort you. I’m glad, at least, that you felt you could write to me and that it helped a little.
I’m going to write to the emperor about the security of travelers on that coach line since my father won’t do it. But I don’t want you to worry about the return trip. When you’re ready to come home, I’ll come myself and bring you back safely. I promise.
It can’t be soon enough for me. I miss you.
Your Sav
Savyon blew out another breath feeling his heartbeat slow to something closer to normal. Writing to Ailsa had helped. He folded that letter and sealed it. Then took out another fresh sheet to write to the emperor. If he hurried, he could get them both into the courier pouch just in time.
Chapter 6: The Testing
Ailsa walked with Grandmama the short distance to the Institute of Magical Arts, trying not to be nervous. She had a strong desire to chew on the end of her braid, but was prevented by the rapid pace Grandmama set. She smoothed down her dress for the fifth time. She didn’t like taking any test, especially not the most important one of her life, while she was still tired from four days of travel. She didn’t like fee
ling unprepared, either. No one had told her what she was supposed to do or how to study for this test.
Grandmama smiled. “Don’t worry. The testing doesn’t hurt. It just takes a while sometimes.”
Ailsa cleared her throat. Her mouth was unaccountably dry. “How . . . how exactly is the testing done?”
“That depends on what we’re testing for,” Grandmama replied unhelpfully.
Ailsa would have asked more questions, but they’d already arrived at the Institute. She stopped to take it in. The Institute of Magical Arts was huge. She could see at least twelve buildings from where she stood. Each structure exemplified a different architectural style, as if they’d been built over hundreds of years. She smiled inwardly. They probably had been. The Institute and its companion Academy were even older than Far Terra.
Nearly everything in Far Terra was made of stone or brick. Some of these buildings were, too, but others were made of wood—a resource too rare and precious to be used for construction back home. Rather than squatting close to the ground, many of these buildings soared as if trying to touch the sky. One even had a metal dome on its roof. The surrounding lawns, fountains, gardens, and patios dotted with statuary that separated the buildings kept the varying styles of the buildings from clashing as they might otherwise have done. There seemed to be more open than enclosed space at this Institute. Just looking at the expanses of green eased Ailsa’s nerves.
Grandmama tugged her forward. “You’ll have plenty of time to explore later. The master is waiting for us.”
Ailsa swallowed, nervousness returning at the reminder. “Who exactly is the master?”
“The oldest and most experienced mage at the Institute, of course. He’s available for consultation, and he tests new students, but his main job is coordinating the various mages who’ve graduated from the Institute to help see that they get to where they’re most needed. Most contracts for mages come through the Institute.”
Ailsa stopped. “He coordinates the contracts? The why doesn’t he stop mages from taking contracts with the worst of the Far Terran barons? The ones who really mistreat their mages? Couldn’t he discourage that? Maybe even influence the way mages are treated in Far Terra by withholding mages from the very worst barons?”
Daughter of the Disgraced King Page 5
