She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) (21 page)

‘No need to be nostalgic,’ Goodfellow said, still waiting just nearby.  ‘We’ll be home soon enough.  I doubt little will change while we’re away.’

Samuel pulled the reins sideways and his mount brought him around to face his friend.  ‘The city may not change, but we might.’

The sandy-haired magician laughed good-heartedly.  ‘Now you’re just being sentimental.  What kind of magician are you?  Come on.  The others are getting away from us.  We’ve a long way to go.’

Samuel spent most of his time
during the journey
chatting with Goodfellow and the good-natured Captain Orrell, along with his reliable second-in-command, Lieutenant Valiant.  He had been pleasantly surprised to find that the pair was leading their adventure, and that Orrell was now held
in
such high regard within the Royal Guard.  Days were spent
moving
at a quick pace and the light wagons did a good job of keeping up although
,
by nightfall, they had generally fallen a good way behind and only caught up while everyone else was already into their dinners. 

In the heart of Turia, there were plenty of major towns and cities
where they could
lodge, such as Grendin and Callaisia, and the vast
,
lake-hugging settlement of Seven Oaks.  Captain Orrell and his men
usually
spent the night
s
in the local barracks
,
and they were happy enough with that, while the magicians and their Koian guests found their way to the local Order inn
s
and slept there in relative luxury. 

Old Tudor sent Samuel to check on the Koians’ needs each night, and he did so with a minimum of interest.  They would only request water or towels or fresh bedding and it seemed pointless to have Samuel running about like a common servant.  They tried to goad him into conversing with them, but stopped their attempts after he declined quite tersely.  Soon after, Tudor gave up sending him.

At first light, they would all meet up again on the outskirts of the town and head off again.  Orrell’s men took care of their horses and they were given different mounts each day, so Samuel had no time to bond with Brown Eric and did not bother to name any of the horses after that.  There seemed little point.

They managed to cover a decent amount of ground each day, but it was eternally frustrating getting Master Celios and Sir Ferse to
be
ready on time.  More than once the two of them could be heard arguing at the top of their voices.  Even Grand Master Tudor had to give Celios stern words after he had caused them to m
ake
Captain Orrell late for the third day in a row, but the words seemed ineffectual on the distracted old Master.  Several times
,
they questioned Celios if they should not be moving along faster, but he would only say that they were travelling according to plan and there was nothing to worry about.  Still, Samuel could not help but feel they would do much better to leave the Koians and the supplies behind and ride for Ghant with all haste.  Every day they dragged their feet was another day the Empress was slipping further away from them.

Eric spent the days riding alongside the Koians and it only irked Samuel even further that his friend seemed to be getting along with them so well, chatting and laughing all the way.  It seemed
that
the three younger Koian men—at least a decade or two older than Samuel—came from the same small region of Koia and they spoke together in their own incomprehensible tongue.  Only the one called Horse spoke Old Tongue and he acted as translator between Canyon and the other two.  It had surprised Samuel when he learned that the Koians were culturally diverse, but then he supposed every continent would be similar in some respects.  Even Turia still had pockets of differentiation, despite the Empire’s best efforts to make the people homogeneous in every way.

‘Don’t worry, he won’t give away any of our secrets,’ Grand Master Tudor said, noticing Samuel’s concerned looks.  ‘I’ve already spoken to him about what he says and what he does.  He is a grown man and he knows better than to discuss Order secrets with common folk.’

‘Can we trust them, Grand Master?  They seem so strange to me.  We know nothing about them or where they really come from.  Everything they told us could be a lie.’

‘Samuel, I would have thought that all your experiences as an
O
utlander in Turia would have taught you better.  Did you learn nothing from all your years in Cintar?  It’s our nature to be wary of all things that challenge the expected but
,
as magicians, that is our main function.  No, I don’t think there is anything amiss about them—at least, not yet.  Yes, they do look strange and they have strange ways, but we cannot let that cloud our judgement.  I’m only disappointed that you have decided to keep yourself aloof from them.  They are people, the same as we
are
, and Master Celios has never been wrong.  I will not start doubting him now.  We must trust him, and trust the faith the Council have invested in him.  These people, thrown upon our shores, will have some role to play in the coming days and we can only thank fate that we have the foresight of Master Celios to prepare us for such.’

‘Please forgive me, Grand Master Tudor, but what if Master Celios and the rest are all mistaken?’

The old magician gave Samuel a knowing wink.  ‘Everything is possible, young Samuel.  Assume the best, but be prepared for the worst.  I think that is perhaps the best advice for this situation.’

The first couple of weeks passed quickly and Samuel had done a fine job of avoiding the Koians and their croaking
,
many-costumed crone.  He was quite surprised when one of the Koian men, the ambassador called Canyon sidled up to him as they were waiting atop their mounts—Captain Orrell had drawn the column to a halt as he discussed their best route with Lieutenant Valiant—and startled Samuel from his thoughts.

‘We haven’t had much opportunity to speak, Magician,’ he said, granting Samuel his most reassuring expression.  ‘You seem to be avoiding us.  I hope we haven’t offended you.’

The man’s eyes were barely slits in his face; his nose was barely a nub.  His Old Tongue was
punctuated
with unusual pronunciation that had Samuel struggling to understand the context of his words.

‘You haven’t offended me.  I am only quiet with my thoughts.  We magicians are solitary folk.’

The Koian seemed to accept that.  ‘So it is.  If you feel the need to speak your thoughts, I am happy to talk with you.  This road is long and, despite the beauties of your land, we also find ourselves getting bored as one valley leads to the next.  Some conversation would ease this tiresome journey.’

‘Perhaps.’

The Koian looked back to his party, where Eric was laughing merrily with the three other men.  ‘Your friend is not as solitary as you.  I perceive that you are not on such good terms.  It is unfortunate.’

‘I thought your people didn’t tolerate magicians?’

‘This is your country.  We are guests here.  We will not judge your choices.’

‘I do remember you mentioning “putting to death”.’

‘We are not a savage people, Samuel.  Magic is not tolerated in my home
land
for good reason.  Our history was marred by magicians seeking to further their own inte
rests
at the expense of society.  The
R
oyal
F
amily had them outlawed.  I understand something similar almost happened here only recently,’ he added with a knowing smile.  Eric had obviously told him of the time when the Emperor had tried to put all the renegade magicians of the city to death.

‘Almost.  Luckily, it did not,’ Samuel told him with a steady tone.

Ambassador Canyon seemed to sense he would have no more productive conversation from Samuel and dropped back to rejoin his party.  ‘Very well.  I hope to speak with you soon,’ were his parting words.

The party had travelled long and were far from Cintar and central Turia.  They had left the highways and were now crossing overland to make the best time.  The trip had been uneventful and boring, and it came as good news when they heard they did not have far to go.  Samuel had said few words to Eric and spoken only with the Koians when necessary.  He sp
ent most of his time
with Goodfellow throughout the course of each day and Tudor and Captain Orrell besides, but he had no real wish to speak to Master Celios or his aloof companion. 

Canyon attempted to converse with Samuel on several instances and, on noticing
the rebuffs Samuel gave him
, old Tudor suggested that Samuel should return the attempt to befriend them.  Samuel, however, was stubbornly upset by Eric and, by association, the Koians with whom Eric was getting on so well.  Sighing once more, Samuel checked that the Argum Stone was sitting tightly in his pocket and began guessing how long it would take them to reach the next rest stop.

After a few more nights
,
they stopped in a logged clearing.  The Koian women were settled into one large tent together and they had requested water and clean cloths so they could wash themselves.  They could be heard talking softly inside, whispering and giggling in their womanish ways.  There was no sound of the hag’s ear-piercing voice and
,
for that, Samuel was thankful.

Orrell’s men were setting up tents and Samuel took the opportunity to speak to Sir Ferse, who was standing idly
by
while the others busied
themselves
around him
.
H
e
seemed
intrigued by the nature of their individual tasks. 
Samuel
had avoided the man the entire time, but now, with little else to do, he decided to accept old Tudor’s request to be more civil
to his companions
.  He was not in the mood to force a conversation with the Koians, so he thought the eccentric attendant might be a good start.

‘Sir Ferse,’ greeted Samuel. 

A well-practised smile flashed onto the moustached man’s face.  It was the look of an experienced salesman or merchant, executed with precision and designed to put the recipient at ease, and Samuel already found the man to be frustratingly charismatic. 

‘Ah!’ Sir Ferse returned.  ‘I haven’t had the pleasure of speaking with you yet, young Lord Samuel.  This journey is so demanding on us physically that it leaves little energy for the common pleasures of conversation.  Master Celios demands so much of my time.  I was hoping to corner you eventually for a friendly chat—but it seems you have beaten me to it.’

Samuel was taken aback, for he had not heard more than a few words from the man before.  Despite the friendly tone, there was just something disconcerting about the nuances of this man.  On top of that, Samuel had the feeling he had met or seen him before and hearing Sir Ferse speak only reinforced the feeling.  He was very good at recalling names and places, but in this instance he drew a blank.  ‘You know who I am?’

Sir Ferse raised a quizzical eyebrow.  ‘How does one not know the Saviour of Cintar?  Any magician who can achieve as much as you have must
,
indeed
,
be great, Samuel.  And I’m sure you are destined for even greater things.  Wouldn’t you agree?’

The statement had Samuel feeling awkward.  ‘I’m not sure.  What do you mean?’

‘Oh, don’t be coy.  The city itself talks about you.  Your two young friends are quite gifted, yes, but they don’t hold a candle to you—oh, no.  Why else would the Paatin Queen want to meet you?  To see the best, of course!’

Samuel shifted in his boots, trying to ascertain what the man was on about.  Such unabated flattery was not something to which he was accustomed and the words just kept rattling from the man’s tongue before Samuel could garner a decent response.  ‘Well, I’m not sure about that.’