“My apologies, princess, but you’re not going back to work that close to the road again,” Captain Damek said.
Ailsa shrugged and rubbed the scab on her forehead. “Possibly not. But there are other things we can do. If we can’t actually go out and get the new plants started on site, we can at least prepare the plants for someone else to put out. And I’m sure there are a few other things we can do. It may not be as much of a testimonial to green magic as we’d planned on, but it’ll be something.”
“Should you try to work magic after that knock on the head?” Papa asked.
Ailsa smiled and snuggled in a little closer to Jathan. “Actually, I think magic will help me feel better. It always does.”
~
Ailsa looked over her shoulder as she led the others to the little-known trail that would connect to the Imperial Highway at the second courier station. In the early dawn light, it was hard to make out much detail. She thought the wheat field looked greener already after she and Jathan had dealt with the incipient rust infection. And the young orchard would probably bear half again as much fruit this year. The berry canes were well rooted and ready for someone else, someone less at risk, to plant out along the little stream Aunt Izbel had brought up from underground. But none of that quite matched the work she’d hoped to leave behind on this first trip home. She’d wanted to do so much more for Far Terra.
“It’s all right, Ailsa,” Jathan said, following her gaze. “We’ll be back.”
Ailsa nodded and turned back forward in her saddle. Time to focus on the next task—getting them all across the desert and back across the border as quickly as possible. She turned her heels in to encourage Diamond to a trot. At least the desert wind was still strong. With any luck, it’d blow away any trace of their passing before anyone knew to look for their trail.
By afternoon, she slowed their pace and rode beside Jathan, who drooped in his saddle. They were on the Imperial Highway now, where it was easy to ride abreast and Rishiart could take the lead of their little caravan.
“I thought you said the second time was easier,” he said with a crooked smile at her solicitousness.
“It was for me.” She reached out to stroke his arm and sneak just a touch of her magic into his vine. She didn’t seem to need to draw from hers otherwise. “Maybe we just didn’t give you enough time to recuperate. I had more than six months, you know.”
Rishiart reined his horse back to ride on the other side of Jathan. “Are you going to be all right? We shouldn’t stop for long at the next oasis, if you can make it. If this wind gets any stronger, it’ll blow up into a real sandstorm.”
Ailsa looked around her. In her concern for Jathan, she hadn’t paid much attention to the wind, though it whipped her braid across her face. “The wind’s almost strong enough for that now.” She squinted into the gale. “And the next oasis is one of the larger ones, where the coach stops. If there is going to be a sandstorm, it’s probably the best place to wait it out.” She reached out to Jathan again. “He’ll feel better, there. I did.”
Rishiart nodded grimly. “You’re right. I hate to lose our chance to get away clean. Delay gives anyone with bad intentions a chance to plan something, but I don’t think we have a choice.”
~
Jathan winked at Ailsa the next morning. “I think one of the secrets to this is not to try crossing the whole desert at once. I feel lots better this morning.”
Ailsa smiled. “I’m glad. It worked that way for me, too, the first time. I’d always feel better at the oases, even if we only stopped to change the horses.”
Jathan nodded and stroked the potted vine in its pouch on his chest. “Green growing things. We green mages need them like everyone else needs air.”
Rishiart turned to Ailsa. “So, why isn’t the desert affecting you like it is Jathan? It can’t just be that you’ve crossed it once before.”
“I don’t know,” Ailsa said. “The first time was almost as bad for me. I don’t know why it’s different this time.”
“You don’t even mind this gods-forsaken wind,” Rishiart said.
“No, I’ve always liked the desert wind, actually. I know that’s strange.”
Jathan shuddered. “I’ll say. I think the wind makes it worse for me. Like it’s sucking up what little life there is out here.”
Rishiart put his hands on his knees and stood up. “Let’s be on our way. The sooner we get started, the sooner I can get you back to Terranion. Then I have to turn around and go right back through this wind.”
Ailsa shook her head. “The wind will die down in another day or two.”
“How do you know that?” Jathan asked.
Ailsa shrugged. “It never lasts much more than a week at this time of year.”
“Good to know,” Rishiart said. “Mount up.”
Halfway to the next oasis, they crossed a stone bridge spanning one of those ravines that cut down across the plateau to the killing-hot and even more barren low desert. Just as they reached the other side, a dozen mounted men boiled up from below the bridge. The cavalry guards, who’d been hunkered down in their cloaks against the wind, didn’t have time to draw their swords before they were surrounded.
Rishiart spurred his horse forward. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Another rider pushed through the circle and looked the three of them over.
Ailsa gasped in recognition. “Baron Mikel. What do you think you’re doing?”
Baron Mikel smiled unpleasantly. “I would think that would be obvious. Really, did you think styling yourself ‘Princess’ would protect you? Or that we’d ever let you leave Far Terra? Not when you could be so very . . . useful.” His gaze raked up and down Ailsa’s body in a very offensive way. “You and your partner.” He looked between Jathan and Rishiart. “Which one was it again? Ah, never mind. We’ll sort them out when we get you all back to my estates.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” Rishiart said.
Baron Mikel smiled wider. “Oh, I think I will. You will all have been tragically lost during a sandstorm.” His gesture took in the high desert surrounding them. “There’s another one blowing up. It’ll cover all trace of what happened here.” His eyes narrowed. “Take them.”
One of the riders pushed close and attempted to pull Ailsa from her saddle. Before she could react, Diamond reared back and caught her would-be abductor across the face with one of his hooves. Ailsa clung to her saddle as Diamond immediately shifted to kick out at someone trying to come up on her from behind. Apparently, he really had been trained as a war horse.
The others drew back out of reach of Diamond’s hooves. Ailsa heard the hiss as Rishiart drew his sword. The cavalry guards’ swords cleared their scabbards at almost the same instant. She turned to Jathan, to find him clinging to his saddle, slightly askew. Either his horse had shied, or someone had tried to pull him from his saddle. His eyes met hers.
“Ailsa, run! Diamond can outrun them.” Jathan croaked.
Not a chance. She wasn’t about to leave him—or Rishiart, come to that—to Baron Mikel’s not-so-tender mercies. There was no way she was going to let Baron Mikel win, even temporarily. No, nor King Ewart, either, because she was sure that Mikel wouldn’t have dared something like this without Ewart’s implicit permission. She was done with that. Rage flooded her. Blood pounded in her ears and her vision narrowed. Everything but her enemies seemed to be obscured by a mist.
Their attackers’ horses shied as spines sprang from the nearest cactus to stab them and their riders. There was nothing else she could draw from the sparse vegetation. Ailsa instinctively reached for the only other defensive magic she knew—the magic that had saved her once before. The whirlwind.
It started at the outside of the circle of riders that surrounded them. The cyclone fed on the power of the desert wind and grew beyond anything Ailsa expected. She’d never made a whirlwind like this before and she struggled to keep it from growing beyond her control. The center was perfectl
y calm. In fact, even the persistent desert wind didn’t reach Ailsa and her companions in the heart of the whirlwind. But everywhere around them was blowing, sand-obscured chaos. Horses bolted either carrying their riders off with them or throwing them to the ground. Within moments, the only attackers left nearby were Baron Mikel and three of his henchmen, all lying on the ground with their hands over their heads. With a sigh of relief, Ailsa let the whirlwind drop.
The cavalry guards hastened to secure Baron Mikel and his men. Ailsa cried out as Jathan slid limply form his saddle. Ailsa and Rishiart both leaped from their saddles and ran to Jathan’s side.
“He must have hit his head,” Rishiart said. “What do we do now? I don’t think he can ride. And if there really is a sandstorm coming . . .”
Ailsa looked around desperately. She didn’t like the thought of trying to get Jathan to the next oasis, but he clearly needed the boost of denser vegetation. “The ravine! Get him into the ravine.”
Rishiart’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
Ailsa huffed impatiently, trying to drag Jathan to his feet. “Because water flows downhill, when there is any. During the rains, there’d be a creek at the bottom. There’re always more things growing in a ravine than anywhere else in the desert except an oasis.”
Rishiart nodded and with the help of one of the cavalry guards, carefully lifted Jathan and carried him into the ravine. It was like a different world from the desert. A little way down, the canyon floor was actually shaded by sycamore trees at least as large as those lining the road. Other plant life was thicker and lusher here, too.
Ailsa opened Jathan’s cloak to check for other injuries. The pot his little vine was rooted in had been smashed in the fall. Ailsa unslung her own pouch and quickly transplanted Jathan’s vine into the same pot as hers. Then she poured more magic into both of them and put the pot with the doubled vine into Jathan’s pouch.
Meanwhile, Rishiart had soaked a cloth with some water from one of their bottles. He dabbed at Jathan’s forehead.
Jathan raised an arm to fend off his brother’s ministrations, then opened one eye to focus on Ailsa. He opened the other and tried to smile. “That was . . . really something.”
“How did you do that?” Rishiart asked, continuing to work on the cut on Jathan’s forehead.
Ailsa shrugged. “There weren’t enough plants to work with. Any mage can make a whirlwind under the right conditions.” Her voice faltered a little. “Though, I’ve never made one like that before.”
Jathan grabbed her hand. “Not just any mage could have done that. That was the work of a wind mage.”
Ailsa sat back. Was he delirious? “No, it wasn’t. I did it and I’m definitely a green mage.”
Jathan nodded. “I know that. But you’re also a wind mage. No doubt in my mind.”
Was that even possible? Grandmama had mentioned something about the new master, hadn’t she? That the new master was both a wind and a water mage. “But—”
Jathan squeezed her hand, whether because of Rishiart’s less-than-gentle attentions or for some other reason she couldn’t tell. “It’s very rare. Even more rare than green mages. But there have been mages with more than one talent in the past. And, when it happens, it’s almost always among the most powerful mages—like a level-nine green mage.”
Ailsa shook her head, still trying to take in this possibility.
Rishiart waved this conversation off. “You two can talk about that later. After we get across the border. How are you feeling, Jathan?”
“Better now,” Jathan answered. “Skull’s too thick to crack over a little fall like that.” He waved his hand around. “And this place helps. I can feel magic rushing back to fill the empty spaces the desert left. I’ll be ready to ride by the time the sandstorm passes. If there is a storm.”
“Prince Rishiart?” the sergeant in command of the cavalry guards said. “What do you want us to do with the prisoners?”
Rishiart turned. Baron Mikel and those of his men who’d been captured had been dumped in a heap with their legs and arms tied. “Put them on some of the remounts. We’ll take them with us.”
“I am a noble of Far Terra on Far Terran soil,” Baron Mikel said. “You can’t take me anywhere but back to King Ewart.”
Rishiart’s smile was cold. “Oh, no. You led an attack on an imperial prince—two imperial princes—not to mention a member of Far Terran royalty. That’s treason. In addition to that, Father was very clear in his proclamation that anyone in Far Terra who interfered with a mage would answer to him. That’s exactly what you’re going to do. This is certainly a case for the Imperial Court. I imagine you’ll be judged by the emperor himself. Don’t expect much mercy, though.”
Jathan sat up a little straighter, beginning to recover. He looked around at the trees. “Are there a lot more of these ravines in Far Terra?”
“Quite a few,” Ailsa answered. “Why?”
“Well, I understand why the Imperial Highway goes by the straightest, fastest route. But, wouldn’t it be easier to have another road that took advantage of these ravines? I mean—”
“No.” Ailsa shook her head firmly. “Easier, maybe. But much less safe.”
“Because of bandits?” Rishiart asked.
Ailsa shrugged. “That, too, I guess. Mostly . . .” She let out a frustrated sigh, then reached for her water flask. She dribbled a little water on the ground, where it ran off down to the bottom of the ravine. “Rain in the desert isn’t like rain in the forest. The water doesn’t soak in until the ground can’t hold any more. The desert soil is dry and baked hard. The water starts by running off, downhill. If there’s enough rain, enough water, you get a flash flood. A ravine like this is the last place you want to be when that happens. That’s why the main road sticks to the high ground and crosses these canyons on bridges.”
“Oh,” Jathan looked around at the trees again, but his smile had turned to a scowl. “A place like this would draw a green mage. That could be exactly what happened to my father.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the very ravine in which your father drowned.” Baron Mikel bared his teeth. “I remember when the mages left. Some of us “helped” them to find places of shelter like this. About this same time of year, it was.”
Rishiart’s eyes flew wide.
Ailsa pushed Jathan back as he tried to push himself upright. “It couldn’t have been during the winds. There are no rains—and therefore no flash floods—while the sandstorm winds blow.”
“You knowingly lured mages to their deaths?” Rishiart asked in disbelief.
Baron Mikel tossed his head—about the only gesture available to him with his hands and feet tied so tightly. “Not me personally. But I knew those who did. Some of them worked for me. We know how to treat mages who try to shirk their duty. They’ll take care of you, too.”
Rishiart shook his head. “I’ll be sure to report that to Father, too. I wouldn’t expect it to help your case.”
Chapter 30: Making It Official
Ailsa pulled Jathan to a stop outside the door to the emperor’s office, while Rishiart went on ahead, shoving Baron Mikel ahead of him. They’d pushed themselves on their way back to Terranion, stopping only to leave Baron Mikel’s men imprisoned in the first town they came to and snatch a few hours of sleep. They hadn’t even paused to change from the clothing they’d traveled in.
It wasn’t Baron Mikel or the events in Far Terra that stopped her now, though. It was Jathan’s plan to ask the emperor for permission for their marriage.
She leaned close to whisper. “Are you sure about this, Jathan?”
He didn’t seem to have any trouble interpreting her question. “Absolutely. Aren’t you? You won’t be getting a prince you know. Not really.”
Ailsa squeezed his hand. “That’s good, because you’ll be getting a working mage, not a princess.”
Jathan winked. “Suits me.” He placed her hand formally on his arm and led her into the emperor’s office.
/> The emperor looked them over, taking in their dusty, travel-worn clothes and their bound prisoner. “What’s this all about?”
Rishiart stepped forward and gave his father a summary of everything that had happened on their trip to Far Terra, paying particular attention to the attack on the Imperial Highway.
The emperor’s eyes hardened and his frown deepened as Rishiart went on. At the end, he turned to Baron Mikel. “Do you deny any of this?”
The baron shrugged as much as it was possible to do so with his hands tied behind his back. “Why bother? Of course I acted to keep an important and valuable resource within Far Terra. It was the only sane thing to do.”
The emperor sat back and stared at Baron Mikel until he squirmed and lowered his eyes. “Mages are not ‘resources’ that are yours to control. My son and Princess Ailsa certainly are not.” His eyes narrowed. “Did King Ewart know of your plan?”
Baron Mikel stood up as straight as his bonds would allow. “King Ewart knows the proper place of mages in society. He said as much when he decreed that Ailsa should not be permitted to leave Far Terra. I consider that my mandate. But, no, the king did not know exactly what I intended to do. I’m sure, if I had consulted him, he’d have lent me more men and I would not be standing in front of you now.”
The emperor nodded gravely. “Very well, by your own admission you have committed treason and you will be sentenced accordingly. You are forthwith stripped of your titles and lands and you will be taken directly from here to be imprisoned in the southern Ring Mountains where you can be a resource to help mine gold and silver for the imperial mint.”
Mikel’s head came up. “You can’t do that!”
The emperor smiled dryly. “On the contrary. I think you’ll find that I can.” He smiled. “It’ll set a useful precedent. A warning, if you like, to the other barons of what will happen to them if they try to follow your example.” The emperor gestured for his guard to take the former-baron away. He turned to the others. “Well, you three have had a more difficult and adventurous journey than I had expected. But you came through it safely, thank the gods. It looks to me like you can all use a chance to clean up and get some rest. You most of all, Rishiart. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to send you right back to Far Terra. Your diplomatic skills are clearly desperately needed there. I’ll send another full troop of cavalry along with you to bolster Arrigo’s forces.”
Daughter of the Disgraced King Page 29
