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

by Robin Lythgoe

  Tameko moved to stand in front of Chakkan. “Is that true?”

  Chakkan stood silent, wretched.

  “I take that as a ‘yes.’ You are a good friend. However, knowing my son might be putting himself in danger, it was your duty to come to me. Better to lose his regard than to lose him entirely, do you not agree?”

  Misery stamped Chakkan’s face, but he nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “I appreciate the delicate position my son put you in, but your first loyalty is to me, is it not?”

  “Yes, my lord,” came the whispered response.

  “As a member of my guardsmen, you answer to me or to Captain Nayuri and no one else. Trust me when I tell you our first interest is in keeping Sherakai safe and teaching him the lessons he needs to learn so that one day he will be equipped to go dashing off to rescue someone should the need arise.” His mouth turned down in a rueful line. “You will spend two weeks in confinement—”

  “Papa, no! It wasn’t his fault!”

  “—and you are getting off lightly. It will not go so well for you in the future though I assume I can trust you to remember your duty?”

  “Yes, sir. I will, sir.” His voice trembled, though whether out of relief or dread, Sherakai could not tell.

  He took a step forward, chin lifting. “Let me take his punishment.”

  “Kai!” Chakkan exclaimed.

  Tameko held his hand up. “You have your own consequences to pay. Nayuri, you may take them now.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Papa—” Sherakai appealed, but his father turned his back, ending the discussion as finally as if he’d closed a door.

  Chapter 19

  Light from the evening sun angled across the is’fidri board, picking out the intricate patterns inlaid in the wood and glinting off playing pieces of polished stones.

  “Ah.” Three jade stones hemmed the sides of an uneven configuration of gleaming moonstone. “Your move.”

  Sherakai studied the arrangement, steepled fingertips bumping against his chin, brow furrowed. Finally, he slid two amber pieces out of the immediate reach of the jade, then moved two more the opposite direction.

  “Yes, but…” A design of garnet pieces pointed directly at the heart of the moonstone. “What then? You must accept the one or the other, yes?”

  “Why?”

  “Those are the rules of the game.”

  “What if the rules were changed?”

  “Then it would not be the same game.”

  “A new game, then.” Sherakai leaned back in his seat and folded his arms, lifting his gaze to his father. Annoyance crept through him. It was as though the elder Tanoshi were deliberately playing a trick on him, and knew exactly where the discussion would take them.

  “Would you leave this unfinished?” Tameko queried in an off-hand manner. He picked up the end of the wide saffron sash he wore and toyed with the corner.

  Sherakai shrugged. “It is only a game.”

  “Some would say so, yes, and for some that would be true. Either way, you lose.” Tameko gestured to the chalcedony stones set out along one side of the board. “Now is your opportunity.”

  Sherakai shook his head.

  Exhaustion shadowed Tameko's clear blue eyes, but they held no judgment, no particular expectation. He moved jade stones to separate a group of moonstone from the main body and quirked a brow at his son. When he received no response, moved a trio of jet.

  “You can’t just keep taking turns.” Sherakai snorted in disgust.

  “Does the sun stop rising because you do not wish to get out of bed in the morning?” The grouping of garnet doubled, isolating the moonstones.

  “There are no rules that say I must continue the game indefinitely,” Sherakai pointed out drily.

  “That is your choice,” Tameko nodded. “Well… until the end.” He placed four jet stones in an unerring line, mimicking the garnet, but from a new direction.

  “Do I get three turns in a row now?”

  Tameko shook his head. “You forfeited your turns.”

  Sherakai frowned. “Why are we playing this, anyway?”

  “As an exercise in strategy, a useful skill for a hero.”

  “I am no hero.” In the two months since his aborted adventure, he had been subjected to intense lessons in strategy, warfare, and—though he did not see the connection—economics and politics. Weapon training and fitness exercises continued at a grueling pace. More often than not, he went to bed feeling as if his head might explode or his body might never move again.

  “And yet you tried to be.” He motioned to the board again. “For every opportunity or advantage you do not take, you fall behind.”

  “Then why didn’t you take advantage of what I might glean from the place Toru and Zar were taken?”

  “Because,” Tameko said, sliding another piece of jet across the board, “other men with more experience and more knowledge have already looked. Repeatedly. I have looked, Sherakai. I have looked, I have prayed, I have tested my Gift to its utmost bounds. I have employed two of the best-known trackers in Alshan. I have hounded my friends and acquaintances for the least thread of information and followed every lead. I have applied to the king for aid.” He paused, emotion battering at his wards until they slipped, allowing despair to seep through. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Do you think I would not do everything in my power to find them again? To bring to justice the men who killed Tasan?”

  “Then why are we here?” Sherakai persisted, perhaps foolishly, but with all the earnestness he possessed. “Why are we wasting time with games?”

  Tameko’s fingers tightened on the garnets he held. “Because you, Sherakai, are still alive and free, and I mean to keep you that way.”

  Restricted to the keep as he was, he didn’t feel particularly free. He missed riding in the worst way. To soften the agony, he was in the stables as often as possible. The horses always recognized him, and he knew every one of them by name, where each liked to be scratched, and what treats they preferred. To be with the Indimi-o was like being in Heaven. There’d been precious little of that lately.

  “You are a quick learner,” his father continued, “bright and clever. I hope that—” A pounding on the study door interrupted him. “Come!” he called out.

  A guard pushed the door open. “A messenger from the capital, my lord. He’s ridden hard and insists upon seeing you right away.”

  “Very well, bring him in.” Tameko got to his feet. Across the table, Sherakai mimicked him.

  The haggard man shown into the room slipped a leather packet from his shoulder as he crossed the floor to go down on one knee. “News from the capital, Lord Tanoshi. The king is dead,” he announced in a harsh, hoarse voice.

  Tameko’s face paled and his mouth moved, but no words came out. He took one tottering step backward as the weight of shock and horror punched Sherakai’s heart. Instinctively, he caught his father before he crashed into the table.

  “Papa!” he gasped. Awkwardly, he shifted the chair with one foot. “Easy. Sit down. Shall I call Mama?”

  “Dead?” Tameko whispered, disbelieving. “How can he be dead?”

  The messenger, face pinched, waited until Tameko was seated before handing him the letter. “It’s in here, my lord.”

  His father’s hands shook so badly Sherakai had to help him break the seal and unfold the thick parchment. As Tameko tried to read, Sherakai poured out a glass of wine. “Here, drink this,” he murmured, pressing it into his father’s hand. Tameko drank it down and held it out for more.

  “He’s dead,” he repeated. “Muro is dead.”

  “I’m so sorry, Papa. H-how did it happen?” His own hands shook as he refilled the goblet. King Muro had been a dear friend of his father’s for many long years. The news must be devastating.

  “An accident. Runaway horses, a broken axle on his carriage.” Tameko buried his face in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was strained, but the surge of emotion alre
ady subsided behind his wards. “Sherakai, please take this gentleman to the kitchens, then send in Captain Nayuri.”

  “And Mama?”

  He hesitated, then nodded.

  “Right away. Is there anything else?”

  “No,” he breathed.

  Setting the goblet within easy reach, Sherakai turned to the messenger. “Come with me, please.” All the way through the halls and to the kitchen, he wondered what the terrible news meant for House Tanoshi. Would his father go to Kelamara for the funeral? Might he let Sherakai go with him? Who would replace Muro as king? His wife had given him only daughters, and there was some question about the succession. The nephew Muro named as his heir had died in a hunting accident several months ago, and no one had been chosen in his stead. Such a situation could lead to chaos or possibly even war. It was a thought both exciting and terrifying.

  When he had delivered his charge, he hurried to take the news to Nayuri and his mother. To the captain he delivered a terse message to join his father in the study. He found his mother in the library, an open book in her lap and her unfocused attention on the window. A plain, sleeveless robe of saffron over a gown of pale sage made her complexion sallow. Dark circles marked her eyes. When she heard the news he carried, Imarasu covered her mouth with one hand. It did not hide the shock in her eyes. She stared at Sherakai until he wanted to fidget, then took his arm.

  “Walk with me,” she told him in a hoarse, small voice. Thick carpets muffled their footsteps. It seemed better that way, more respectful of the circumstances. “Is Nayuri with your father?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Good. How are your wards?”

  “Holding up.” He didn’t have the skill to block strong emotions outright. Another month or two like the last, he thought, and I’ll be an expert.

  She gave a curt nod. “You must shield yourself. I cannot keep my feelings from you. Neither can the others—and your father will be devastated by the loss of Muro. The king,” she corrected absently. “He will hide it as much as he can, but it would be helpful if you did not… Did not…”

  “Eavesdrop?” he filled in. He’d already got a good dose and had no desire to repeat it.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She did not speak again until they came to the study. Tameko stood by the window, one hand against the frame supporting him. Imarasu went to her husband and put both hands on his chest while she looked up at his face. “I am so sorry, my love,” she whispered. He caught her elbows and bowed his forehead to hers.

  Captain Nayuri stood to one side of the door, awaiting his lord’s pleasure. Sherakai bowed deferentially, then backed toward the hallway.

  “Wait,” Tameko said. “You should stay, son.”

  Startled, he could only nod. “Of course.” Hands clasped at his waist, he drifted closer, uncertain whether to stand by Nayuri or his parents. Not wanting to intrude, he chose the former. The captain stared at the floor, his mouth tight and his emotions difficult to decipher. Sherakai studied him for a moment, curious, then remembered his manners and lowered his gaze.

  “I will have to go to Kelamara for the funeral.” Tameko’s voice was eerily devoid of expression. “Under the circumstances, it would be best if the rest of you remain here. I will leave in the morning. I don’t know how long I will be gone. There is the—” He stopped, his gaze lowering to where he rubbed Imarasu’s shoulder. He frowned, but said nothing for the space of several minutes. “The throne must be filled. All the High Houses must attend.”

  “Ours is not one of the Exalted, surely they will excuse you,” Imarasu protested. Worry throbbed from her. House Tanoshi still observed the mourning period, and the hunt for their sons continued.

  Tameko took her hands. “Muro was my dear friend. There are details he left to my care, and his legacy to preserve. While I am in the capital I can make inquiries after the boys.”

  She lowered her head abruptly, jaw working. “Yes,” she whispered. “That would be best.”

  Sherakai bit the insides of his cheeks. Grief strained her. Gone was the mischievous smile that so often lit her face. She didn’t sing any more. Sometimes he’d find her standing in the hall, clutching a book or her needlework while she stared into the distance. When Fazare and Imitoru were found and returned to the family, would she be herself again?

  “I am sorry to leave you, sweetling.”

  “No, it must be done, you are right. I will pack your things for you and see to supplies for the trip.”

  Tameko gave the top of her head a lingering kiss. Within the walls of Tanoshi Keep—and away from the eyes of visitors—such sweet intimacies were typical. Their obvious love for each other spilled over to their children. There were always hugs, always kisses. Tugging his wife against his side, Tameko lifted his gaze.

  “Nayuri, word of the king’s passing will travel swiftly beyond our borders. Double the patrols. Let us not give the Romuri an easy opportunity to take advantage.”

  “Yes, my lord. Should I send messengers north and south as well? Better to carry the news twice than not at all.”

  “By all means. Sherakai, while I am away you will act in my place and speak for me should the need arise.”

  “Me?” He colored at the squeak in his voice. Tasan was the eldest. It was Tasan’s right to manage the district while the jansu was away, and Fazare's after him. Sherakai had not even passed Second Rites. Surely he had misheard.

  “Remember your lessons and you will know what to do. Captain Nayuri and Master Ginsaka will advise you well, as they do me. Your mother, too, is a wise and able counselor.”

  Shock warred with stark fear of failure. He had never undertaken such responsibility! He’d never dreamed it would be required of him. How did one go from reckless to reliable overnight? Fierce and dedicated Nayuri often intimidated him, but Sherakai respected and looked up to the man. Ginsaka didn’t much like Sherakai and would sooner advise a goose. Either man was better suited to the job. “I—Surely Mama—”

  “Can rely on you,” Tameko interrupted.

  Looking from one to the other, the world gave a slight, odd turn around him. “Of course,” he breathed, though he had no idea how he’d deliver on such a promise.

  The captain saved him from an awkward reply by taking a step forward, dark brows tented in a frown. “You do not wish me to accompany you, my lord?”

  “Only if you can be in two places at once. I trust no one better than you with the safety of my wife and children.”

  “I will put together a troop to go with you,” Nayuri bowed, “and I will guard your family with my life.”

  “I know it well, my friend.”

  Imarasu slipped out from Tameko’s arm to straighten his tunic. “You’ll come back to me.” Her voice and her hands trembled. She lifted her face. “Can you not send Nayuri in your place?”

  He took her hands in his and held them against his chest tenderly. “Do you remember the little shop with the blue door?”

  “By the river, yes, of course.” She gave him a puzzled look.

  “Do you remember all the wonderful, colorful trinkets? It was like looking through a treasure chest from somewhere far away.” He smiled at her. “I will bring you something foreign and amazing.”

  She was silent for the longest time, then leaned her head on his shoulder. “I would like that.”

  A little noise from Nayuri drew Sherakai’s attention. The captain gestured toward the door and the youth followed him out. As he did with the elder Tanoshi, the captain walked half a step behind and to the left. Contrarily, it did nothing to bolster his confidence.

  “You will not fail.” The captain’s words echoed Sherakai’s thoughts.

  “How do you know that? Where do I even start?”

  “You start with the first matter that requires your attention, and you remember that you’ve been training for this your entire life.”

  “Training to be fourth—”

  “First,” Nayuri interrupted. He did not so much a
s glance aside. “The knowledge and instruction you have received are equal to that of your brothers in every way.”

  “That can’t be true. Tasan knows much more about how to run the district than I do.”

  “Tasan was once fifteen, and even after his Second Rites he learned a thing or two.”

  Nayuri had a swift way of putting things in perspective. “You are suggesting that I grow up, and that I remember that I have not.”

  The captain stepped ahead to open the door to the great room. “Exactly.”

  Chapter 20

  “Master Sherakai. Sherakai, wake up.”

  A rushing noise accompanied the voice. The two sounds overlapped an exhausting dream about ledgers, letters, and bewildering politics. As if that weren’t confusing enough, he had to carry Tasan’s head. The ornate box was too delicate to hold it. Worse, it leaked. Blood. Sherakai squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of the combination.

  The man who owned the voice allowed him no such indulgence. He shook the youth roughly. “Get up. You are needed.”

  The ripping away of warm bedclothes emphasized a growing sense of urgency and irritation. “What? What is it?” he cried, coming bolt upright. The intruder was not one of his brothers plaguing him, but Suchedai Ginsaka. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Ginsaka lifted one brow and opened his mouth to speak, but Sherakai interrupted him. The significance of the steward rousing him personally banished the vestiges of sleep. “What’s happened? Were we attacked again? Is anyone hurt?”

  “Not in so many words.” From the chest at the end of the bed Ginsaka removed a pair of pants and tossed them to Sherakai.

  He yanked them on and reached for a leather tie to bind his long hair into a tail. Rain sluicing down the window identified itself as the noise he’d heard, but how could he have thought any of his brothers would come to his room? They were gone. It would have been a lovely surprise to have Fazare and Imitoru rolling him out of bed in the middle of the night, laughing and joking about what a layabout he was. They were home, and was he going to sleep through the event? “Is Papa back?”