Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1)

by Robin Lythgoe

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Tameko asked, brows lifting.

  “No,” Sherakai put in swiftly.

  “Maybe later,” Imitoru countered.

  From behind them came Tasan’s firm voice. “Yes.”

  Fazare laughed out loud.

  “You lot are going to be the death of me.” Tameko grumbled good-naturedly and turned to make his way through the small crowd. Congratulations and compliments followed them. Somehow Sherakai found himself sandwiched between his father and Bairith Mindar. His brothers trailed behind.

  “I am not much of a horseman myself,” Bairith apologized. “You seem to have excellent form, and you manage your animal well. I imagine your Gift helps.”

  Sherakai shot a startled look at his father.

  “As a matter of fact, your father and I were just talking about you.” He smiled, cool and polished.

  “This is not the time or place,” Tameko said, an unexpectedly sharp edge to his voice.

  “Shall we retire to your office, then?”

  “I don’t see the point.” He put a hand on Sherakai’s shoulder as they turned up the stairs to go into the hall. Silent guards opened the great double doors. “We’ve discussed this before.”

  “I am well aware.” Bairith dropped back a fraction, allowing the pair to precede him into the entry hall. “And you are aware of my need, and what I have to offer in return. I understand your reluctance, my lord. Have you considered asking him what he thinks about it?”

  Tameko blew out an impatient breath. “I have considered every aspect. Now, if you will excuse us, we have things to attend to before the wedding.”

  Bairith stopped, inclining his head. “Of course.”

  Tameko took the hall to the right, which led to his study. “With me,” he said to Sherakai, briefly touching his arm.

  The youth glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. Tasan wore an expression of concern while the other two looked wildly curious. Leaving them behind, Sherakai and his father finished the short journey in silence.

  Pale gold paneling cocooned the room. Thick, deep rugs of ruby red softened the geometric blocks of the wood floor. Near the fireplace stood a carving of a daxar representing the House nemizu, or totem. It was lifelike, and Sherakai had loved it since toddlerhood. Forbidden from climbing on it to play, it had evolved from an inaccessible toy to a quiet reverence for form and beauty. He’d only seen the mountain cat it was modeled after once in his life. Riding the mountain trails with Imitoru, they'd seen it creeping beneath the trees. Chocolate brown with white, clear eyes, its shoulders would have been even with a grown man’s hips. Imitoru hadn’t let him linger to admire it.

  Sherakai went to touch the cat’s smooth head and admire the bright glass eyes. Then he knelt next to his father as the older man sat, resting his injured leg on a footstool. Lightly, Sherakai drew one hand down the supported limb. Tucking the other behind the knee, then began to rub. “Does it hurt terribly?”

  “Been on my feet too much,” the older man grumbled. He gripped the arms of his chair at first, then relaxed little by little. A wound taken in the constant war against the Romuri had done this to him years ago. A permanent limp was made worse by too much activity, too much cold, or too much riding—which devastated a man who loved horses as he did.

  Sherakai lowered dark lashes. “I’m sorry. I will stay close tomorrow, and I will be your feet.”

  He did not see his father’s tender expression. “What will I ever do without you?”

  “Worry less.” He grinned, but the meaning of the words struck him, arresting his humor. “Are you going to be doing without me? Is this something to do with Lord Chiro?”

  Tameko sighed. “Yes and no. Your brother and I have been watching you.” Tasan was the only other of Tameko’s children to bear his Gift. The magic was not always passed down from generation to generation. House Tanoshi was a rare exception. “Particularly in light of Bairith’s ardent interest.”

  “Is his interest a bad thing?”

  A slow, uncertain frown pulled at Tameko’s brow. “To tell you the truth, I am not certain. We’re not exactly friends, but we are family by marriage.” It didn’t sound like an overwhelming endorsement. “He would like to foster you. Teach you. And he thinks you can be a balm to your sister.”

  “Is she worse?” he whispered.

  His father brushed Sherakai’s shoulder gently, affectionately. “How like you to worry for Mimeru before yourself. It does my heart good. But yes, yes, I think she is.”

  Sherakai lowered his gaze to his task, considering what it would mean to leave Tanoshi and his family. Chakkan. The horses. Sickness churned his stomach. Still, he couldn’t stay here to ride, swim, read, and dance while his sister faded away. He swallowed. “I would do anything for her.”

  “I know you would.”

  “Bairith—” The name tangled on his tongue. He never felt comfortable addressing him as anything less than ‘Lord Chiro.’ The difference in age and station created a gulf he could not cross. The strange way Bairith treated him didn't encourage trust. Besides, he had never been invited to such familiarity. “He’s Ru’s husband. And he’s a mage.”

  “He is.”

  “Like us.” Meekly.

  “More, if I understand correctly. Earth.”

  “Oh.” He rubbed a little harder. Tameko tensed, and he immediately paused before resuming again with a more considerate touch. “Sorry.” And then, “He’s always looking at me, as if I’m some odd sort of bug he wants to put under glass.”

  “He gives Tasan a good deal of attention, too. He is your brother-in-law. Interest in your well-being and character is greater because of your Gift. How will it manifest? How strong will it be? Which direction will it take?”

  “But it’s already manifested,” he pointed out dubiously.

  “It has begun, yes,” Tameko corrected. “It takes time. Sometimes a Gift sprouts up and just keeps growing. More often, it develops in fits and starts.”

  “Which is mine?”

  Tameko tipped his head, considering. “We don’t know yet.”

  “Can Lord Chiro tell? Is that why he’s always touching me? He treats Mimeru like he barely remembers she’s there, but he puts his hand on my arm or my shoulder. He strokes my hair. Sometimes he puts his arm around me.”

  “Like the rest of us do?” came the gentle tease.

  “I suppose.” Sherakai glowered at his father’s knee and didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s different with him, though.”

  “Why?”

  “To start, he’s not my brother. He doesn’t act like they do, he doesn’t—doesn’t feel like they do.” A glance at his father’s expectant expression encouraged him to go on. “They are warm and he is cool. They are near and he is not. He has a space around him that keeps people away.”

  Tameko gave a soft snort of surprise. “So he does,” he admitted. “I expect he didn’t have the same upbringing you did. Elven society is different than that of humans, and the racial tension in Suminia is always at a high simmer. It must have been difficult for him being halfblooded.” He considered. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him mention any other family. It says something that he is trying to cross that barrier.”

  Sherakai nodded thoughtfully. Strange looks and reserved affection were no reason to be unkind to a person. “If Ru needs me, I’ll just have to get used to it.”

  “No,” Tameko said slowly. “Your mother and I have considered it, but you will not be going to Chiro.”

  Relief flooded him. A quiver of guilt followed on its heels. He’d get to stay with the Indimi-o! Perhaps he could go visit Mimeru instead. They didn’t often go to Chiro as a family. His parents would likely require he travel with a guard, but he—

  “We’ve decided you will go to the College of Magic in Kesurechi instead.”

  Chapter 4

  He would not have been more surprised if the floor had disappeared from beneath him. “What? Why?” Sherakai blurted,
bounding up with fists clenched and heart pounding. He’d been to Alshan’s capital city, but never further. Kesurechi was a completely different country! It didn’t matter that he’d been fantasizing about running away to sea—the shock of being sent away against his will washed over him like a cold wave. He could scarcely breathe for the enormity of the news. “You can teach me. Or—or Lord Chiro can. Don’t send me away. You can’t.”

  “I can and will do what I decide is best for you and for our House.”

  “I won’t go.” He quivered. Faced with the very real possibility of losing everything, he could not imagine a life that didn’t include riding the Indimi-o every day, practicing weapons and rules of conduct, the teasing of his brothers and sisters, lessons with his father or the tutor, adventuring with Chakkan, listening to his mother sing… Such a world was not his world.

  Tameko’s brows tented in reproach, challenging his son—his vassal—to defy his authority. “Is that so? What will you do, then, Sherakai?”

  His chin lifted. “I will stay here. I will become Master of the Horse for Tasan.”

  “Does Tasan know this? What of the current Master? And why would your brother agree to allow a dangerous, unpredictable squall anywhere near the horses?”

  Another shiver ran through him. A squall was an unflattering term for an untrained mage. On the one hand, it might refer to a short, violent storm. On the other, it reminded him of whining, crying babies. “A tutor can teach me how to control the magic if you will not.”

  “Will not, boy?” The easy comfort of moments ago slipped away entirely. Tameko’s blue gaze sharpened to ice and a prickling silence hung between them.

  “That—that’s not what I meant.” Sherakai looked away, abashed. The continuing silence suggested he should explain, but words eluded him. “I don’t want to leave, Papa. I don’t want to be a mage, or a warrior. Please let me stay.”

  “You would rather be a squall then? Surely you know what happens to them.” Sherakai opened his mouth to confess his limited, gossip-tainted knowledge, but Tameko pressed on, an edge to his voice. “Some foreswear the magic, or so they believe. But most mages can’t help themselves; they use the power without thinking. It is there, a part of them, and it takes so very little effort. Isn’t that so? It is like putting an untrained rider on what he imagines is a headstrong horse, except in reality the horse is a dragon. That is particularly true for those with a strong ability, and those who think themselves naturally skilled. The next thing you know, that unschooled mage has loosed the dragon on his friends, his House, his entire village, and has no way of calling it back. And if not that, then the dragon breathes in the mage and consumes him completely.”

  Sherakai shook his head mutely. Wings of terror beat at him.

  “Come here.” Tameko held his hand out.

  Automatically, he closed the space and put his hand in his father’s. Smooth against rough. Slender against broad. Callow against valiant.

  “You are my son; I don’t want you taken away and molded by strangers, even if the school is widely acclaimed. I don’t like the politics they play. Politics are inevitable where power is concerned, and mages hold power. You can hold power, Sherakai.”

  He did not want power. That was for men the likes of his father and his brothers. Thoughtful, he sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor next to Tameko’s chair where he had heard so many lessons before. “When you were King Muro’s general, weren’t you in charge of enforcing politics?”

  His father snorted. “That is one way to put it. He’s a good man, our king, and if he weren’t I’d never have accepted the commission.”

  “What would you have done instead?”

  “Grown potatoes.” Reaching out, he lifted one black, bead-bedecked braid, caressing it between thumb and forefinger. “Maybe what happened today when you were racing was one of those fits and starts I told you about, son, but I want you to be aware of two particular dangers inherent in your Gift. First, others might use you. Second, you might use others. Just as with physical strength, education, or personality, magic gives one an advantage. Advantage is power, and with power—”

  “Comes responsibility.” He could not help the swell of pleasure at the gleam of pride in his father’s eyes.

  Tameko let go the single braid, gently smoothing his hand over Sherakai’s hair. “One of my responsibilities is to my children. It would be wrong for me to ignore your needs, and you need training with your Gift. I saw you today, Sherakai. I saw the brightness of your joy. I saw the way you manipulated the aro, the energy of magic—yours and Aishe’s together. And that… that, my boy, is something I cannot do. I have only seen it done by two other people in all my life, and they have both passed from this world.”

  “What are you afraid of, Papa?” he whispered.

  His smile was rueful. “The magic is a complicated thing born out of simplicity. All things have magic in them to one degree or another.”

  “With the degree decreasing the more a thing is changed,” Sherakai nodded.

  “Exactly, and man’s ability to manipulate that magic varies as well. Tasan must work at it and you—”

  “I just do it,” he whispered. “Is that bad?”

  “If you do it carelessly, yes. If you do it without understanding the consequences, yes. You have access to something in others that is very private and personal. There are aspects to consider that would never come up at all if you were, say, a firebrand.”

  Sherakai eased himself down to sit cross-legged on the floor, arms around upraised knees. “It’s mostly with the horses, though.”

  “The hounds respond to you well, too, and your sister Kanya bragged for days about how you coaxed her kitten down from the roof. Cook swears you can sweet-talk the hens right off their nests.”

  Another blush touched his cheeks. “But I can’t do it all the time. Sometimes I can feel the aro but I can’t touch it. Does that make sense?”

  “Aye. Education and practice will change that.”

  “Why can’t you teach me, Papa?” As Tameko eased his leg from the stool, Sherakai pushed the support out of the way.

  “I wish I could, son, but what I know is not enough for the potential I see in you.”

  “A tutor, then?”

  “No.” Gathering himself, Tameko straightened his shoulders. “Omuri dan Enirun, a proctor from the college, arrived today.”

  “Today?” The wave rose again. His chest tightened painfully. It would have taken weeks for the proctor to make the trip. “H-how long have you been planning this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “The moment your Gift showed, we had to consider the possibility, Kai.” He gave a little smile, a little tip of his head. “We hoped it would be strong in you—and we hoped it wouldn’t. Do you understand?”

  “I think… no.”

  “It is a case of being given a blessing on one hand, and having one taken on the other. It makes us happy and sad at the same time.”

  “Oh.” Lower lip between his teeth, he mulled over the idea for a moment or two. “It makes sense now. You want me to go, but you want me to stay.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How soon must I see the proctor?”

  “After the wedding he will test you.”

  Hope lifted its head. “And if I fail his tests?”

  “You will fail me.”

  He lowered his eyes. “Yes, sir.” Hizuka City in Kesurechi was so very far away. Another thought struck him, bringing his head up again. “If I go, will I be able to return home for my Second Rites?”

  For men, First Rites recognized a youth’s physical capacity to sire children. Second Rites, at the age of sixteen, marked the point where he was judged physically able to earn a living, take a wife, and begin a family—though taking on those responsibilities at such a young age was not common, particularly among those of the upper classes. When he became a father of a living child, he passed his Third Rite. His living family and friends ushered him from this world and into the
arms of the gods with the tender Departing Rite.

  Tameko gave him a perplexed look, then rose from his seat, holding a hand out to his son. When Sherakai stood, he tugged him into a rough embrace. “Do not believe for a moment that I would have it any other way. And no, all the Indimi-o together will not keep your mother away.”

  His hiccuping laugh, muffled against his father’s chest, strangled on an unseemly, childish sob. He held on tight until he regained control of himself, then eased away. For a moment he couldn’t think what to do or say. “It is… much.”

  “Aye. Aye, it is, son.” Compassion and worry showed in his eyes, in every line of his face.

  Lower lip caught between his teeth, Sherakai went to the door, his thoughts awhirl. He paused on the threshold to look back at his father, standing as strong and indomitable as he ever had; the rock of House Tanoshi. “I won’t disappoint you, Papa.”

  Chapter 5

  Tanoshi Keep overflowed with guests, color, and expectation. Weddings were said to bring the many blessings of the gods, and those who attended hoped some of that good fortune would rub off on them. To invite particular attention, guests brought gifts of every variety: food, flowers, spices, coin, wine, and gifts for the bride and groom. The nightly music and dancing began days before the actual ceremony and worked up to a pair of feasts. One came the night before the wedding, and one directly after.

  Jansu Tanoshi's long friendship with King Muro made him a man to be reckoned with, a man to be courted. He may have retired from his commission as general of the army, but his opinion held weight. Muro depended on him, and Tanoshi was often at the capital. The rumor that the king might attend the wedding prompted a significant number of uninvited guests. Tanoshi village burst at the seams. The inhabitants happily took advantage of the situation by renting out their rooms or even their houses. Barns transformed into guest accommodations, colorful tents sprouted on the green. Entertainers and peddlers added another rich layer of texture to the celebratory tapestry. Hawkers called out their wares, jugglers performed, minstrels sang. There were races of every kind, wrestling matches, contests of arms, contests of skill. For the space of one week, Tanoshi transformed into a small city.