“A couple of hours ago. Hasn’t said a word.” Loriot kept his voice quiet. He had no desire to break Savarin’s concentration, not when he’d been working so long. Not when Loriot didn’t know what such an action would do to whatever magic Savarin used.
“Huh.” Commander Oudin stared at Savarin for a while, his expression curious, which was better than earlier when Savarin had been less than courteous to the man, or at least a little too peremptory. “I don’t know much about magic.”
“Me either,” he admitted.
“Do you know what he’s doing?”
“I know his objective. What he’s doing to accomplish it….” He shrugged.
Commander Oudin rubbed at his chin, his expression thoughtful, but he didn’t press for more information. Whether he didn’t think Loriot had it, or he just didn’t think Loriot would tell him, Loriot didn’t know. It was all to the good as they were doing their best to keep Savarin’s objective as vague as possible. No one needed to know he was testing the protections and searching for weak spots. No one needed to know there were weak spots in the protections.
“You won’t make the nearest town before dark,” Commander Oudin said after another few moments of watching Savarin, during which the most Savarin did was lift one hand and wave it side to side before lowering it to his thigh again. The motion produced no effect that Loriot could see. “Not if he doesn’t stop soon.”
“I don’t want to disturb him.” He didn’t know if he could get Savarin’s attention if he wanted to, or how to go about it without harming anything. As far as he knew, Savarin wasn’t doing magic that could be dangerous, but what did he really know about it?
“Stay here for the night. We can put you up easily.”
“We couldn’t impose on you.” The army kept their outposts well supplied so their staying wouldn’t likely put a dent in their larder, but he’d never intended to take advantage of the commander’s hospitality.
“No imposition. We have guest quarters, though I’ll warn you they’re small, and the evening meal will be simple, but there’s plenty for you of course.” Commander Oudin gave him an easy smile. Loriot knew the offer would have been made to anyone on the princes’ business—and certainly to the captain of the royal guard and the most powerful sorcerer in Tournai—but the smile lent sincerity to the commander’s statement. And the existence of guest quarters meant they weren’t putting soldiers out of their beds.
“Then I’ll accept your kind offer.” It would certainly make the evening easier without having to figure out where they would go after Savarin finished, whenever Savarin finished. And whatever condition Savarin would be in then. One of the few things he knew about magic was that using a Talent used up the sorcerer’s own strength. How much seemed to depend on the Talent and how strong it was. Savarin was almost unimaginably powerful, at least to someone like Loriot, and he had no idea how Savarin’s power would affect his fatigue after an afternoon of magic. “Thank you, Commander.”
“You’re most welcome, Captain. I’ll have the guest quarters readied for you and Master Savarin. Someone can show you the way whenever you finish here.” Commander Oudin glanced at Savarin once more, a furtive, almost nervous look, before he retreated back into the outpost.
Loriot stared after the commander for a moment, thinking about that look. Was this what Savarin had been talking about? How nervous, even scared, people were around him? Commander Oudin hadn’t been overtly fearful, but he was certainly wary of, even anxious about, what Savarin was doing. Savarin had to have seen the commander’s reaction—how could he not? And how could it not bother Savarin? Loriot would be bothered if people were scared of him wherever he went. He would be angry as well.
Of course, a small voice inside his own mind reminded him, he was wary of Savarin himself.
He shook his head. He was cautious of Savarin’s power, of what it could do, which was why he didn’t want to disturb Savarin while he used his Talent. So the magic couldn’t accidentally hurt someone, if that was possible. But that caution didn’t make him scared of Savarin—he wouldn’t be calmly traveling with him if he was—and he would never act in a way that displayed fear even if he was. Or he hoped not. Whether or not Savarin admitted to being bothered by other people’s fears, he didn’t want Savarin wondering about his feelings. He would make certain Savarin never saw that Loriot was cautious about his power. Easy enough not to let it show. He’d never displayed his feelings about magic in the course of his duties before.
He watched Savarin, letting his gaze trace over the perfect profile, the shoulders stretching the lines of his jacket. Loriot shook his head and turned away. What was he doing?
Loriot walked a lap just inside the edges of the small wood. He’d done so periodically throughout the afternoon in the interest of being vigilant, but nothing would happen here. When they were farther out, away from the presence of the army, he’d have to be on guard. At the moment the short walks did little more than slightly alleviate the monotony. His circular path brought him back to where he started, and he made himself as comfortable as possible leaning back against the same tree trunk.
Savarin hadn’t been wrong saying he’d be bored this afternoon. Not that Loriot planned to admit it to him.
It was coming up on dinnertime when Savarin finally moved. Moved more than just the odd and unfathomable hand motions he’d made from time to time throughout the afternoon, that was. All at once, the rigidity in his posture fell away, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed, and he took a shuddering breath. Loriot stepped forward, concerned, but Savarin sat up straight before he took more than two steps, and turned, his gaze latching on to Loriot unerringly despite the shadows in the wood.
“How long?” Savarin’s voice was rusty, rasping. He cleared his throat after saying only the two words.
“Hours. I was beginning to wonder if you were all right.”
“I’m fine.” The words came out much closer to Savarin’s normal smooth tones this time.
“And how would I know if you weren’t?” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Savarin.
“You’d know, believe me.”
“Would I? You sat there but were obviously elsewhere entirely for hours on end. I had no idea if you were aware of what was going on around you, but I sincerely doubt it, which shows me that the prince was quite right to be worried about you out here by yourself.”
The sound that came out of Savarin’s mouth was inarticulate but indignant nonetheless.
“I wouldn’t have known what to do if something happened, Savarin. Should I disturb you? And how? And what do I do if something goes wrong with your magic?” He didn’t know why he was saying all of this now, except that he’d spent far too long staring at Savarin and thinking. And thinking had started annoyance brewing somewhere inside where he hadn’t even noticed it.
Savarin looked as if he wanted to snap at Loriot, but he only sighed. “If something goes wrong with the magic, which it won’t, there wouldn’t be anything you could do. I would have to fix it myself. And if you need to disturb me, and I do mean if it is absolutely necessary that you do, do so gently, as if you’re waking someone. Quiet, careful. I need to be able to extricate myself and my awareness from the spells, not be ripped out.”
He rocked back on his heels, surprised and somewhat mollified at Savarin’s candor. “It may not be possible to do it that way. If I’m disturbing you at all, it’s likely to be an urgent and possibly dangerous situation.”
“Do what you can, then.”
Loriot nodded and studied Savarin, searching for some hint to what had gone on these last hours. “What did you find?”
He expected Savarin to refuse with another statement about how Loriot wouldn’t understand or didn’t need to know, and was readying his arguments to the contrary, but Savarin surprised him. “When we’re on the road.”
Whether Savarin was putting him off or really intended to tell him, Loriot didn’t know, but he’d figure it out soon enough.
Savarin finally moved, getting to his knees and then beginning to heave himself to his feet. Loriot hesitated, then stepped forward. Savarin glanced at him and shook his head, finally gaining his feet with what looked like too much effort. Loriot remembered his earlier thought about how using his Talent would affect Savarin. He wasn’t sure he had an answer even now. Savarin seemed tired, but not overly so. Or was he just hiding deeper fatigue?
Savarin brushed his clothing off, restoring his appearance as if he had someone to impress. “We should get on the road.”
He fell into step beside Savarin. “Too late for that. We’ll stay here tonight.”
“No, there’s no need for that.”
“There is. You’ve been working for hours. It’s dinnertime now. It would be dark long before we made the nearest inn. I don’t fancy camping out if we don’t have to nor do I feel the need to travel at night when it isn’t necessary.” Needlessly risking injury or bandit attack on a dark, empty road was not a smart idea.
“We should make some time tonight. Sleeping out won’t be so bad—it’s warm and dry. I’m sure the commander can have some food packed for us to take.”
He stopped and waited until Savarin did as well. “Is there some reason you want us to travel tonight as opposed to tomorrow? We won’t lose that much time waiting since we wouldn’t be able to travel far or fast after dark anyway.”
“I can light our way,” Savarin said.
“And we’ll still be a target for every bandit and thief out there tonight.” He looked at Savarin for a moment, mildly surprised Savarin didn’t jump in to argue immediately. “Why do you want to leave now? Is it because of something you found?”
“No, nothing like that.” Savarin denied Loriot’s suggestion with a shake of his head. “I just wanted us to cover some distance while we have the weather on our side. But you’re right, of course. We’ll stay the night here and get an early start again tomorrow.”
He was so surprised at Savarin’s capitulation he almost missed the rest of Savarin’s statement. “Wait,” he said, halting Savarin who had begun walking again. “What was that about weather?”
It was perfectly clear and pleasant out, as it usually was this time of year. Early summer was his favorite time. He’d spent hours outside in the long sunny days when he was a child. Traveling conditions should have been ideal for them.
“The weatherworkers at the university are keeping an eye on some storms moving toward Tournai, or they were before we left. I was told the storms would likely hit us next week unless something changes. But we won’t know if anything does now that we’re out here.”
“How bad are these storms likely to get?”
“They’ll be strong enough that we won’t want to be out in them.” Savarin shrugged. “We should cover as much ground as we can before they hit, and find an inn to hole up in until they pass.”
Loriot rapidly sorted through information and plans as they began walking again. Why hadn’t Savarin told him about the potential for storms before they left? If they were predicted to be that bad, perhaps postponing their departure would have been a better idea than riding into storms and getting delayed in the middle of nowhere. “Will the weatherworkers do anything about the storms?”
“How much do you know about weather magic?” Savarin didn’t wait for an answer. “Weather magic is delicate. Changing a weather pattern can have far-reaching, and often unforeseen, negative consequences. Even the most experienced of them have to approach each working with care. Often not acting is less dangerous than acting.”
“And in this case?” he prompted.
“I don’t know.” Savarin started walking again. “They weren’t ruling it out last I heard, but they’ll do the minimum possible to prevent severe consequences.”
Loriot wondered if the severe consequences they meant to prevent were those of the storm or those that would come from using magic to affect the storm, or both. He didn’t think asking would help his understanding.
“We’re out of touch now anyway. We’ll just have to watch the weather and plan accordingly.”
He’d have to pull out his maps after dinner and take a look. They’d need a plan for where to wait out the storm. The problem was they didn’t know when the storm would hit, and he had no idea how long Savarin’s magic would take each day. If Savarin took as long as he did today every day, they wouldn’t have gotten far by the time the storms hit. And their journey would take forever, but that was another issue to be dealt with. “We’re not completely out of touch.”
“How so?”
“I have a set of spelled mirrors that belong to the guard captain’s office. I brought one, and my second-in-command has the other, so we can contact Jumelle,” he said. “If there’s someone in particular who could give you information about the timing of the storm, I could send someone to visit them.”
“Yes, Gemella could. She’s a weatherworker at the university.”
“All right. I’ll have Ruban visit her, and check in with him daily for the information.”
Savarin nodded. “I’d like to see the mirror.”
“Why?” Loriot glanced at Savarin. They were approaching the gate to the outpost, and he could smell food on the wind. It didn’t smell bad for army cooking, but he was more interested in why Savarin needed to examine the mirror than in dinner.
“Curiosity. Good spelled mirrors are rare, and are often antiques. There hasn’t been a glass Talent in many years strong enough to make mirrors that have good range on them and don’t wear out too quickly. So I haven’t come into contact with too many quality mirrors. I’d be interested to see yours.”
“Of course. It’s in my bag, so after dinner?”
Savarin agreed, but his reluctance was clear. He was obviously itching to get his hands on an interesting magical item.
“I’m not letting you keep it, you know,” Loriot said and grinned when Savarin glared at him with narrowed eyes. “You seem to covet the mirror a little too much.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Savarin sailed through the gate and into the outpost compound, leaving Loriot behind trying to stifle laughter.
Chapter 9
DINNER WAS already underway when they joined the soldiers in the small dining hall. Commander Oudin waved them over to his table at the front of the room where there were empty chairs. As soon as they were seated, a young soldier brought over plates for them. The food was simple but hearty, and better than Loriot would have expected.
Conversation at the table had died out when they arrived but picked back up slowly, mostly at the instigation of the commander. Loriot participated as much as he could, but Savarin concentrated on his meal with single-minded determination. Was he really that hungry after his use of his Talent? Did he feel he was too good for these men, too important to converse with them over a meal? Or was he trying to allow the others to ignore his presence if they wanted to, because he thought they were afraid of him?
Loriot realized that he didn’t know Savarin quite as well as he’d thought, certainly not well enough to tell, when yesterday he might have hazarded a guess. Possibly the wrong guess.
He and Savarin didn’t linger after dinner ended. Some of the men left, but others stayed in the dining hall. One had a deck of cards in hand, but it wasn’t until Savarin and Loriot rose and began making their way toward the door following the commander that the cards were brought out to the tabletop. There were no invitations to join them, but Loriot wouldn’t have expected any, even if Savarin hadn’t been with him.
Commander Oudin led them up a flight of stairs and to the end of a corridor to the two doors there and left them with assurances that they should come to him if they required anything further. The commander strode back down the corridor to the door at the other end that he’d pointed out as leading to his office and bedchamber.
He turned to Savarin once the commander left them, but before he could say anything, Savarin spoke. “May I see the mirror now?”
He’d been a
bout to suggest an early night since they’d set out before dawn that morning and should do the same the next, but he doubted he could put Savarin off for long. Not with how eager the sorcerer seemed to examine the mirror.
“Certainly. Come in.” He let them into the bedchamber on the right, the one Commander Oudin had pointed out as his. The bedchamber was small, just large enough for a single bed, a chair, and a narrow chest of drawers. The one small window let in just enough moonlight for him to see but left the room in shadow. He moved to grab the candles from the chest and light them from the candles in the corridor, but Savarin was faster. He took hold of Loriot’s arm, keeping him back from the candles, and an instant after, the wicks ignited into steady, glowing flames.
He sucked in a quick breath. At the surprise of having the candles light on their own? Or at the surprise of having Savarin touching him? Both were unexpected, and both kicked his heartbeat up. The idea that Savarin had used his Talent to light the candles settled into his mind, becoming far less jarring. But Savarin was still touching him, his grip firm on Loriot’s forearm. Loriot was suddenly much more aware of Savarin’s presence close by his side, of Savarin so much taller than Loriot was. But Savarin’s hand holding his arm, that was almost devastating in the awareness it produced. Yes, he’d always known Savarin was an attractive man, but he’d thought of the trait in a more detached, aesthetic sense, and less on the level of being attracted to Savarin himself.
But in that breathless moment, heat rushed through him from the one point of contact between them, and he wondered in what was obviously lunacy what it would feel like to turn and push Savarin up against the closed door, trapping him there with his body and kissing him. He wondered what Savarin would feel like against him, under him. Would he melt into Loriot’s kiss? Would he push back and fight for control?
He looked from the elegant, long-fingered hand on his arm up to Savarin’s eyes and saw something flare in the gray depths. Was it the same mad awareness Loriot was suddenly feeling?
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