“Thank you.” Shianan gave him a pleasant smile. “Now, I don’t know if anyone noticed, but this man gave a splendid example of using his bodyweight to unbalance an opponent from the side. Did anyone see?”
Plowman looked down. “Um, commander, I’m—”
“One moment, soldier, I’m speaking.” Shianan looked past the shame-faced soldier and continued speaking. “As I said, it was a splendid example. He drove directly into the subject at the best possible angle and took him to the ground. He even delivered a solid punch to the temple. Unfortunately, this brilliant example was directed toward an officer. This could be cause for the stocks and a sound strapping.”
Plowman paled and glanced toward the group, probably thinking of the dozen or more others who had been with him in the attack.
Shianan smiled generously. “But it was such a good example, I hesitate to punish it. So instead, Plowman will have an individual training session with me.” He spun the wooden sword in his hand.
There was a general ripple of relief and then hungry anticipation. Someone snickered, and someone else hooted in laughter. Plowman did not look reassured.
Shianan planted the sword’s tip again. “However, this will be a private session. The rest of you will be on a conditioning run about the fortress.” The growing merriment vanished. “You’ll circle the Naziar palace, then the fortress compound, and then the greater open market below the gates.” The soldiers’ eyes widened and there was a soft murmur of incredulity. “And I have set watchers along the route to ensure everyone makes it to each checkpoint. Anyone failing to complete the entire route tonight will repeat it tomorrow.” He smiled cheerily at them. “Any questions?”
No one dared.
Shianan nodded. “On your way, then. Captain Torg will see you make it to the market fountain, to start. Move!”
They blinked at him with astonished, unhappy expressions and then the group began to shuffle toward the gates. “At a run!” snapped Shianan. “Move out!”
Satisfied they were on their way, he turned toward Tref Plowman, who hung back. “Sir,” he began miserably, “I—”
“Pick up your sword, soldier.”
The sword was not Plowman’s best weapon, as Shianan well knew, and even with his bruises, aches, and cuts, he was more than able to best Plowman. At the end of an hour, Plowman took the twentieth “cut” to his right arm, wincing with the impact to an area surely already discolored with bruising. Shianan, panting, limped backward. “Straighten up and watch your eight, Plowman. Come again.” He was hurting, too. Hazelrig’s amulet was never intended to carry him through an hour of sparring.
Plowman limped forward—Shianan had not limited his attention to arms—and raised the waster. Shianan let him attack, sloppy now with weariness, and moved easily inside the wooden blade, rapping down smartly across the collarbone and shoulder. He’d pulled his blow for that one—no point to crippling the man—but by Plowman’s face, there would be a matching bruise there as well. The soldier yelped. “I’m sorry, sir..”
Shianan regarded him. “You haven’t quit on me yet, and you haven’t groveled for mercy.”
“I can’t quit, or you’d beat me to pulpy jelly. And groveling—if I thought it would help, sir, I would.” He looked miserably ashamed. “I’m sorry, sir, I truly am. We had no right to do what we did.”
Shianan shook his head. “I have no quarrel with your anger,” he answered. “Only with the expression of it. What if the general hadn’t stopped it? What if you’d killed the only man who knew where to find the Shard?” He raised his sword. “Come again, soldier. You could be running with your friends.”
Plowman obeyed, this time managing to keep the exchange of swords playing for a moment before taking a solid hit to his thigh. “A soldier without a leg is a soldier without his life,” Shianan said archly as the soldier staggered. “But I think you know that well enough. Put these away and be sure you go over what we’ve done. I want your mistakes corrected.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
A man waited to one side, leaning on a staff, and Shianan beckoned him as he limped toward his quarters. He wondered if the amulet would have any use left. “Trader?”
“Matteo, my lord. I had your message.”
Shianan nodded stiffly. “I’ll want you tonight, but I have very specific instructions.”
Ewan Hazelrig came into the kitchen, where Tam was stacking dishes. He leaned against the door frame until Tam looked at him. “Yes?”
“You know you needn’t do all that.”
“Habit, I suppose.” Tam thumbed a crooked dish into alignment. “And you haven’t any other servant at the moment. And, it’s something to occupy me.” He stared at the plates.
“You could be in your own world. There must be plenty to occupy you there.”
“Yes. Plenty.” He paused. “Too much.”
“I see. The return was not all that you hoped?”
“Oh, it was. But—there was more, too. And I… I’m not sure how I will address some of it.” He gave the mage a crooked smile. “Woman problems,” he confided, looking for all the world like a precocious twelve-year-old.
Hazelrig laughed at the image. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He sobered. “You know it’s tomorrow.”
“I know.” Tam stared at the wooden surface of the table. “I wish we’d found a way to render it unnecessary.”
Hazelrig sighed. “You and I spent years on that. We did not find anything to make a peace.”
“But that was when I was trapped here. If we had an idea now, something I could present myself to Oniwe’aru and convince him….”
“That would be ideal,” agreed Hazelrig. “But what would you do about her?”
Tam looked sharply at him. “What?”
“You couldn’t court her as you are now. You’d need to conceal yourself in another form. And I don’t know if you can even—comport yourself properly when you’re disguised. I had wanted grandchildren, you know. Or did you intend to take her back to—”
“How,” interrupted Tam unevenly, “how long have you—I was very careful—how did you know?”
Hazelrig gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “How long have you had an eye for her?”
“I don’t know. I thought I respected her as your daughter, as my nominal mistress, as a friend, though she did not truly know me. And then…. I know it must seem odd to you, that I’ve known her as a child as much as a woman, but—well, we live longer lives, and such a view is less uncommon for us.” Tam looked suddenly embarrassed. “Why am I telling all this?”
“Because I asked, and I asked because it has a bearing on my daughter.”
Tam looked down. “I’m sorry. I know your daughter was never a part of any agreement.”
“She was not.” Hazelrig took a seat. “However, I have raised my daughter with independence and intelligence. She may choose her own way. You’ve seen I do not pressure her in these affairs.”
“I have.”
“And I am not so opposed to the idea of a Ryuven as a son. Or rather, less so than most of my peers, at least with an eye to one particular Ryuven.” He smiled. “I’m not sure I’d want to see her cross into your world again, but…. None of that matters, however, unless you intend to act.”
Tam’s expression was wrong for his young face. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She is young. I could be happy with her, and I would try to make her happy. But I would not take her to my world to stay. I have been an exile myself. If I surrendered my place again, we could stay here—but I would be an exile again, and we would have the constant fear I might be discovered.” He flushed. “And there is also the question of your grandchildren, as you put it. While I may assure you that my human guise is—very functional, I do not know if we could successfully have children, and I do not know what characteristics they would bear.”
Hazelrig looked thoughtful. “It would certainly shine a clearer light on my research into our histories.”
“
My lord mage.” Tam gave him a flat look.
“What of her choice—if she would have you, and where she would prefer to live?”
“Why make things awkward if it is impossible?” Tamaryl sighed. “She knows, or she suspects, and already it has changed her. I would not lose her friendship, even if I cannot be more.”
“You know Shianan Becknam would like to court her.”
Tam stiffened. “Shianan Becknam may hate me and my kind, but he is a good man outside of that, I think. She could do much worse.”
Hazelrig sighed. “If you have no regrets….”
“No, I will have regrets, whatever I do. But I mean to have fewer, and to leave her with none.”
“You will return before tomorrow’s shield-making, then?”
“I think so.” He paused. “I will be sad to leave this place. There is a part of my life here, which you have made.”
Hazelrig rose and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, turning him gently. “I will be sorry to see you go.”
Tam sniffed, suddenly very like a twelve-year-old. “I’ll go tomorrow morning, then.”
Chapter 71
Shianan sat at his desk, staring at papers he didn’t see. He did not look at the two men waiting in the corner. He had to harden himself, turn his racing pulse to ice in his veins, lest he fail in his purpose. Every selfish urge wanted to abandon the intent, and he walked a blade’s-edge in doing what he must.
He would have to do it quickly, before his will gave out.
Luca entered with a gust of cold air and noted the two men against the wall. “I’m sorry if I interrupted. Would you like me to bring anything?”
Shianan shook his head, feeling as if it were made of iron. “Stay, Luca,” he said hoarsely. “I need to speak with you.”
“Yes?” Luca looked concerned—but not suspicious.
Shianan drove bitten nails into his palms. “Luca…. Your brother has been looking for you a long time.”
“He did,” Luca agreed, with a small glance toward the silent men in the corner, “until he assumed I was dead.”
“He wanted to—ransom you. Redeem you.”
“Redeem?”
Shianan could not read Luca’s expression. Perhaps Luca himself didn’t know what he felt.
Shianan might not, either. But Luca’s family wanted him—wanted him. And somewhere deep, where he refused to probe, Shianan knew he himself would do anything….
He cleared his throat gruffly. “You’re going with him.”
Luca stared. “I’m going…. But—no!”
The men stirred in the corner.
Luca shook his head. “I don’t want to go!”
Trader Matteo moved and took Luca’s arm. “Come along.”
“No!” Luca jerked away. He recoiled into the slaver’s assistant behind him and spun. They moved to his arms.
Shianan started to his feet, his heart in his throat. “Luca….”
“Let go!” shrieked Luca. He tore loose and lunged toward the desk. His fingers clawed across the surface and grasped the opposite edge, his eyes inches from Shianan’s. “You promised,” he pleaded. “You said no one could buy me.”
Shianan swallowed hard. “I said no one could afford your price, and that’s true. But he’s your own blood, Luca. He has a better claim on you than I could.”
“Don’t do this!”
“Luca—”
The trader’s assistant reached to seize a handful of hair at Luca’s forehead, peeling him back from the desk. Shianan jerked forward. “That’s enough!”
The trader hesitated, holding Luca’s bent arm but without applying pressure. “I’m sorry, your lordship. I remember what you said. But he’s got to come with us, after all.”
“Do it without harm,” snapped Shianan.
Trader Matteo looked doubtfully at Luca. “Right. If he doesn’t fight.” He nodded to the assistant, who ran a loop of cord through the rings on Luca’s cuffs, trapping them behind his back. “That will help, anyway.”
“Master Shianan,” breathed Luca, “I—I hardly know my brother now.”
“The more reason I should let you go.” Shianan bowed his head so he saw only the cluttered desk. “Be careful of him.”
“As you say, lordship.” The slavers started forward. Luca resisted briefly, but the assistant simply lifted the cord on his wrists and he submitted. Then they were through the door, leaving a gust of frigid wind to sweep the office.
Shianan dropped to his chair, seeing the desktop blur beneath him. He had done the right thing—he was sure of it. Luca deserved better than slavery, and he should have the opportunity to return to his family. Their friendship gave Shianan no right to keep him bound in a position where he could not but crave that friendship…. He had done the right thing, but that did not make it easy.
He dropped his head to his hands and sobbed.
Jarrick Roald took a breath, drawing courage, and then rapped at the door. Shianan Becknam had summoned him, and he hadn’t dared to guess the reason. Did the commander want information on the merchant alliance? A ransom for Luca? Revenge for the attempts on his life?
“Come,” came a voice through the door. Jarrick opened it and entered, warm air brushing his face. The commander was at the desk, writing. He threw down his pen and lifted his head. His eyes were rimmed red. “Jarrick Roald.”
“Your lordship, I—”
“Be quiet, Roald. I have something to say to you, and I won’t extend our interaction beyond strict necessity.” He shoved paper and pen across the desk. “Write, quickly, the names of those who are left from the initial scheme to fleece the army. I want the names of whoever worked with Karlm in this league. I doubt his is the mind at the back of it.” He tapped the paper impatiently. “Now!”
Roald’s hands moved without his instruction, taking up the pen and listing six names on the page. “These are all I know. I’ve met only these three, but I know Karlm takes instruction from this one.”
“These are all the names you know?”
Jarrick nodded.
The commander withdrew the page and leveled a finger at Jarrick. “It is only for Luca’s sake that you are not this moment begging the inquisitors to hear your confession. You must know that.”
Jarrick nodded.
“And it is equally for Luca’s sake that you have this contract to save your house.” Becknam withdrew a sealed document and nearly flung it at Jarrick. “If your house falls now, Luca’s sacrifice was worthless. He deserves better than that. And he deserves a house to return to.”
Jarrick blinked. “My lord?”
“I’m sending Luca with you.”
Jarrick caught his breath. “My lord—thank you. I know you will—I can advance part now—”
“I am not asking for payment.” Becknam’s tone was dark. “Do you think you could possibly buy him? No, I am sending Luca with you only because he deserves more than slavery in a foreign land, and because I want him to return to his family and home. He’s already at the caravan staging ground, waiting for you.” He tapped the contract sharply. “You’d better hurry. You leave at dawn.”
“Dawn?”
“You have your contract, you have your brother. You have no other business here.” Becknam’s narrowed eyes communicated clearly that the alliance was beyond Jarrick’s concern now. “You have no reason to remain in Alham.”
Jarrick swallowed. “Yes, my lord.”
“Now get out of sight before I forget you’re Luca’s brother as well as the foot-licking scut who nearly killed him and me both.”
Jarrick hesitated and then made a hasty bow. “Thank you, your lordship.” Clutching the precious contract, he fled through the door.
Chapter 72
“Tam?” Hazelrig closed the office door against the bustle of the Wheel and pulled his white robes over his shoulders. “Tam, you haven’t much time.”
“I know.” The boy who was not a boy straightened a casket of phlogisticated earth in the storage cabinet and turne
d to face Ewan, his arms folded across his chest. He looked across the room at nothing in particular. “It’s hard to leave. I worked so hard to believe I would stay forever…. I never expected to return.”
“But Oniwe’aru welcomed you.”
“He did. And it would be foolish indeed to waste that, wouldn’t it?” He took a deep breath. “Is my lady coming? I would like to bid her farewell before I go.”
Ewan reached without looking to a plaque mounted with fifteen crystals, his fingers automatically brushing the one labeled Black. He had been White Mage a long time. He energized the stone and flicked it once, so that it rang with a whining buzz. The consonant crystal in Ariana’s office would sound as well, alerting her the White Mage wanted her.
Tam twiddled awkwardly with a tray of sand on Hazelrig’s table. A moment later Ariana tapped at the door and entered, already in her black robes. She saw them standing together, looking at her, and quickly closed the door. “You’re going now?”
Tam nodded. “This is my final chance.”
For a moment Ariana looked as if she might cry, but her jaw tightened and she swallowed visibly. She crossed the room and bent to embrace his short figure. “We’ll miss you. Thank you for—for everything.”
Tam held her, but not tightly, his eyes closed. “I’ll miss you, my lady. I’ll miss you dearly.” He released her and turned to the White Mage. “And you….”
Ewan knelt and pulled the boy into his arms. “I wish there were some way. I wish I could see you again. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, my friend.”
Tam smiled sadly. “You did all anyone could.” He stepped back, his throat working. “If you release me here within the Wheel, with all the members of the Great Circle within a short radius….”
Ewan chuckled. “They’ll all come rushing in a panic, and I’ll tell them we just banished a Ryuven who tried for the Shard. You’ll be safely home, and Ariana and I will be minor heroes.” He hesitated. “Are you ready?”
Tam nodded. “As I ever will be.”
Ewan stood and gave Tam a fond, sad look. Tam glanced at Ariana with a conflicted smile and then faced the White Mage.
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