Rebel Elements (Seals of the Duelists) (29 page)

Eshkin froze. Philo hadn’t learned what Eshkin’s fears and secrets were at the party, but their mere existence told him much.

After a long moment, Eshkin spoke. “I shall have to agree to disagree with the emperor on your performance, then. However, it is within my power to encourage you to focus more directly on your cartographical tasks. From now on, Philo Sallas, you are confined either to your home, or to your office. More specifically, I want you in your office from sunrise to sunset. No exceptions. Am I perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Lord Eshkin.” An odd sense of relief welled up in him; a spy he most certainly was not. But perhaps he could become a spymaster.

~~~

In the evening, someone finally pounded on the door to Bayan’s barracks room, prompting Kah to squawk querulously. Hoping for news from Instructor Ithrakis, Bayan opened the door and saw Ramil, one of the newniks from the class behind his, panting.

“Your hexmate wants you at the front door,” the Pinam said.

“Why didn’t Odjin just come upstairs?” Bayan stepped out into the hall.

“It’s a girl,” Ramil replied.

Bayan glanced back into the room. Calder and Eward mirrored his concern. He headed for the stairs at a trot.

Bayan had spent the morning back in the cold house, drinking and meditating. Doc Theo told him that since potions merely caused natural emotional states, there was no simple healing cure to purge the body of the potion, and he’d have to wait for it to dissipate. He’d given Bayan a huge container of water and advised him to drink as much as he could. In between peeing sessions, Bayan had huddled within his dark Void, clinging to his control over the rage that shuddered through him and thanking Bhattara for Sint Esme’s lesson in focus, which had surely saved at least one life during Bayan’s Shock exam earlier.

Finally released after the lunch hour, Bayan had sought out his hexmates in his room, only to have them question him all afternoon about how he had managed to avoid the effects of the anger potion. In the end, he told them the same lie he’d given Ithrakis and Doc Theo: that he’d taken one sip, found it bitter, suspected Braam of spitting in the cup, and dumped the water back into the fountain, then scooped a new cupful while everyone gaped at Braam. The lie meant that some poor newniks earned the chore of draining, scrubbing and refilling the water fountain for no reason, but Bayan’s tale kept everyone from questioning him too closely and learning about his Savantism.

With either Kiwani or Tarin at the door, Bayan wasn’t sure what to expect. He headed down the spiral staircase, his hexmates thudding behind him.

Tarin stood on the porch in tears. “Come quick. It’s Odjin.”

Spurred into motion, Bayan trotted beside her, while Calder and Eward ran closely behind.

“What happened?” Calder asked.

“Master witten Oost found him on a cliff top. He—he’d gotten in an illegal duel sometime this morning. If Master witten Oost hadn’t found him when he did, Odjin might have died.”

“He was lying out there all day? In this cold?” Calder’s face blanched.

“Might have died?” Bayan blurted. “How badly was he hurt?”

Tarin swallowed hard. “His right leg is gone. Just gone.”

Bayan jerked to a halt. “He can’t duel with just one leg.”

Tarin nodded, teary-eyed.

“I don’t understand,” Eward said slowly. “If he’s going to live, why are we hurrying?”

“Because,” Tarin said, rounding on him in frustration, “if you canna duel, you’ve washed out. And when you wash out, they send you to the apothecaries. Immediately. He’ll be potioneered before supper, and we’ll never see him again!”

Bayan felt a giant hole open up inside his chest. His hex had broken. One of their own was leaving, shattered, unable to perform as the emperor required.

“Who left him alone out there? Who was he dueling?”

“Don’t know. As soon as we heard he’d been taken to the Chantery, I came to get you. Kiwani and Azhni are with him now.”

“So much for her perfect hex now,” Calder muttered.

They hurried on, entering the Chantery at a flat run. Diantha wordlessly pointed to the next floor. The look in her eyes gave Bayan chills, like she thought all six of them had died. As they clumped up the stairs, he wondered if that wasn’t exactly the case. The rank of Hexmagic Duelist was out of everyone’s reach without a sixth member in the hex.

They slowed, quieting their steps, as they came to the first room on the right. Azhni sat on a bench outside the door; she shook her head sadly. Inside, late afternoon light shone in through the window, illuminating a pale rectangle of floor tiles. A bed sat to the right of the door, and Odjin lay in it, mounded under a blanket. Despite being healed, he had dark circles under his reddened eyes, and his skin was pale.

Kiwani sat in a chair by his side, but her arms were crossed and she gazed out the window. Neither of them spoke.

“Odjin.” Tarin dragged over another chair. “Odjin? How are you?”

“How am I? I’d rather be dead on that cliff.” His voice sounded faint, defeated.

Bayan shared an aching look with Calder. His friend came and put a hand on his shoulder. “Be here for him now, Bayan,” Calder whispered. “We can fall apart after he leaves.”

Bayan looked at the flat space under the blanket, where Odjin’s right leg should have been. “I—I don’t even—” Bayan began.

“I do.” Calder tapped his scarred cheek. “At least a little.” He turned and sat on the bedside next to Odjin’s shoulder, murmuring quietly to his injured hexmate. Bayan stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed next to Eward, who wore a distant stare as if watching a different tragedy than the one unfolding in front of him.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Tarin asked Odjin when Calder had finished his private words.

“Braam, he dosed Bayan.” Odjin spoke through gritted teeth, though his voice couldn’t muster much volume. “He attacked my hexmate. And if his plan had gone right, and Bayan had let loose some wild Shock magic, I could have been killed. I was Bayan’s tegen this morning. And Braam, did he think once about me? About anyone else in my hex? No! I couldn’t let that pass.”

“You found him and… and asked for a duel?” Tarin asked in a faint voice.

“I
demanded
one as soon as his class let out and I got him alone. Said I’d crack his skull right there if he didn’t agree. I was so angry, I couldn’t think straight. I’m surprised I could keep my magic inside me until the duel started.

“Braam, he thought it was hilarious. Agreed right away. So we hiked up and started dueling. But even though I was furious, his magic was wilder than mine. He cast Lavafall at me, but instead of pouring down in one place, it sort of… exploded… all around me. I guess I passed out. I woke up here.”

Tarin growled down in her throat. “Someone needs to show Braam how Lavafall really works.”

“No,” Bayan heard himself say. “He fought an illegal duel while dosing. There’s nowhere he can go in the entire empire where people won’t hear about what he did. He’ll live a long life with the knowledge that he might have been a duelist, but he broke faith. Even other potioneers will scorn him. Can you think of a worse punishment?”

“Other potioneers, like me,” Odjin said.

“It doesna seem right that both of them share the same fate,” Tarin said.

Kiwani finally spoke. “It takes two to duel.”

Odjin stared down at the single bump made by his remaining foot. “Yes. It does.”

Kiwani’s words poured forth, and she didn’t seem willing or able to stop them. “It would have been better if you’d died at Bayan’s hand by a Bluebolt spell.” She stood up. “We could have mourned you properly and moved forward. But instead, you lived, and now we all have to decide whether you were right or wrong, whether Braam was right or wrong, and none of us are going to have the same answers for the same reasons. Your mistake, the one
you
lived to make, is going to haunt
us
. How are we supposed to move forward with you anchoring us to this very day, forever? You should have died, Diogenes!”

She stepped around the bed and left the room, leaving everyone in stunned shock.

Eward’s voice filled the silence first. “No, you shouldn’t have died.” Bayan put a hand on Eward’s shoulder, then he noticed Eward was still staring at the wall above Odjin’s head, while tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I—I should go after—” Tarin stuttered, nearly bolting from the room.

Calder stared after them both in angry surprise. “Some hex we are.”

Bayan looked down at Odjin, expecting him to resist Kiwani’s death sentence, or acknowledge Eward’s plea. But he lay on the bed like an empty husk, staring upward.

“You all should go, too,” Odjin said. “Kiwani, she has a point. The sooner you forget me and move on, the better your training will be.”

“We will never, ever forget you, Odjin,” Calder said. “You’re a part of our hex. Even if we get assigned a replacement member, no one could truly take your spot. You were here first.”

“Calder’s right,” Bayan said. “You have to promise to write to us once you’ve finished your training with the potioneers.”

“You won’t want to hear from me then.”

“Do it anyway. Promise us now.”

“Fine.” Odjin’s voice was flat.

Bayan and the others stayed with him until Doc Theo and Diantha came up to help him down to the carriage roundabout. Between Calder’s angry silence and Eward’s distant grief, Bayan felt like he was part of a funeral procession.

But out front, a surprise waited in the form of Taban.

Bayan stared at the older boy’s hard expression, unsure what to expect. Even the chanters paused, supporting Odjin between them.

With a smooth set of motions, Taban invoked his Wood avatar, which appeared by his side. The creature was vaguely manlike and draped so thickly with ghost moss that it seemed to be wearing tattered clothing. Its head bore an uneven series of twisting limbs, and its eyes were dark knots.

“Sem will carry Diogenes to the roundabout, if that’s all right, Doc.” Taban held his arm in its summoning arc. His voice held a certain hollowness that told Bayan he was deep within the Void. “The smallest apology I can make for my hexmate’s actions.”

Everyone turned to Odjin, who nodded. Sem the Wood avatar creaked forward and gently lifted Odjin into its arms. As the chanters flanked the avatar, it turned to go, carrying Odjin out of Bayan’s life.

Bayan’s hexmate took one last look around the Chantery’s tiny valley. He raised a hand in farewell as the avatar entered the tunnel to the Hall of Seals. Over the creaking of Sem’s limbs, Bayan could hear Odjin weeping.

Kiwani wiped sweat from her brow despite the near-freezing drizzle that wafted down into the Flame arena. Pacing back and forth, she kept her muscles warm as she watched Bayan and Tarin duel each other.

Tarin’s Lavafall was the most powerful in the hex, but Bayan could usually block it with Dead Embers. Having just sucked the heat right out of her spell, he formed a leaping wedge with his arms and right foot and powered toward her in a dense haze of red magic, releasing Cindercone as he thudded to the sand. Tarin’s eyes went wide as she saw the size of Bayan’s volcano forcing its way up through the sand beneath her feet. Throwing Icedust at it, she leapt to the side. Bayan met her with a Flame hold, ending the fight by pinning her so she couldn’t summon any more spells.

Kiwani shook her head in annoyance. Bayan had the strongest, sharpest learning curve of anyone in the class. Most students who, like Bayan, had started out barely able to manifest a thing were still struggling to produce mediocre results.
They’ll be Elemental Duelists for sure, and no more than that. But Bayan… he seems to have more raw power than I do. I can’t believe I might make Hexmagic Duelist with him, of all people. I’m already wrong enough about his potential that I can’t look him in the eyes. What can I do? How do I make peace with myself and with my hexmates at the same time?

She watched Calder and Eward step up to duel, then looked over at Tarin and Bayan, chatting amiably as they paced the arena to cool down. A simple answer came to mind, which she immediately rejected in horror.
I can’t possibly! It’s unthinkable! Not to mention illegal! And especially after what our hex has been through!

Then Instructor de Rood’s rules of dueling came back to her. “A skill duel may have its own rules, as long as they are agreed to by both duelists before beginning.”
I shall make my own dueling rules, then. And if Bayan can beat me, he’ll have earned my respect.

~~~

Kipri stepped through the kitchen door into the weak winter sunlight and headed for the front gate of the Eshkin estate, a hot apricot tart in his hand. The Pallithean indentured in Lord Eshkin’s kitchens had not shared any useful information, but she had given him the tart.

In fact, she’d been very kind. In Kipri’s memory, many of the servants and employees at the Eshkin estate were very polite to him indeed, which was one of the reasons he enjoyed spying for Philo.

He stepped onto a paved carriage roundabout beside the manor’s portico. A man dressed in fine Shawnash fashion stood between two marble pillars, holding a warm drink. Kipri could see its steam from a distance. Something struck him about the man’s appearance, but he couldn’t decide what. He nodded to the man and walked down the lane toward the gates, but after a few dozen paces, he glanced back. The man watched him.