The Magician's Apprentice (38 page)

Werrin looked at Genfel. “You will need the king’s endorsement.”

Genfel shrugged. “Of course.”

“If I may speak?” Hakkin looked at Werrin, who looked amused as he nodded. Hakkin turned to regard the other magicians. “Chasing the Sachakans with such a small party is ridiculous. We need more magicians and we need them now. With enough support, we could fan out across the north and sweep them out like the scum and dirt they are.”

“With respect, Lord Hakkin,” Dakon said – speaking for the first time, Jayan noted, “but the area you speak of is extensive and mountainous. It would take more magicians than we have in Kyralia to spread across it as you suggest, and even if we did they would be stretched so thin it would be no effort for the Sachakans to break through.”

Hakkin looked at Dakon thoughtfully, and then, to Jayan’s surprise, nodded. “You’re right, of course. I am not familiar enough with this part of Kyralia and am only just coming to understand the challenges of moving in this type of terrain.”

“We should, as you have suggested before, Lord Hakkin, regain control of the pass,” Narvelan said.

Hakkin admitting his ignorance? Narvelan supporting Hakkin?
Jayan resisted a wry smile.
If only it hadn’t taken the gruesome death of a magician and his apprentice to get these men to co-operate.

“I agree,” Werrin said. “I suspect a large part of the Sachakans’ plan is that news of their continuing existence here – and now the killing of one of us – should inspire their countrymen into joining them. We must make that as difficult as possible. But controlling the pass will have to become a separate task from ours.”

“Then I volunteer to gather the forces necessary,” Lord Ardalen said, “and to take them there and hold as best we can.”

Eyebrows rose, then all nodded. Werrin smiled. “We must, as always, seek the king’s approval, but I will also suggest that he would not err in granting the responsibility to one as capable as yourself.”

Ardalen flushed. “Thank you.” He grimaced. “I think.”

“I’ll send a scout south. We should have a reply in four or five days. I will suggest he replies with mental communication, using code words to indicate approval or disapproval, as Lord Olleran suggested a few days ago.”

“If we block the pass,” Prinan said quietly, “then I suspect any Sachakans determined to enter Kyralia will attempt to use the new pass in my father’s ley. He should be warned and…and action taken to prevent access that way.”

“Yes,” Werrin said. “You are probably right.” He paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “I will also suggest this to the king.” He glanced around the group. “It would not hurt to have one who saw today’s crime with his own eyes speak of it to those who do not yet grasp the situation we are in, and the future we face if we lose.”

“In the meantime, we are too few and too weak,” Bolvin said. “Is there any way we can strengthen ourselves more effectively?”

“We cannot speed or increase the rate at which we gain magic,” Narvelan said, spreading his hands. “Even if we were allowed to seek power from commoners, most in these parts have fled or been killed.”

“The king cannot grant us access to the strength of commoners, no matter how willing, until we are officially at war,” Werrin said. “But…I know he has been considering how he might make exceptions.”

“There is power and there is knowledge and skill,” Dakon said. “We can, in the meantime, hone our skills. And improve our abilities, if we are willing to share what we know and practise working together.”

“But that will use up magic we may need to deal with the enemy,” Werrin pointed out.

“We do not have to use full-strength strikes,” Dakon said. “Only beams of light. It would be considerably safer, too. Other magical applications… I’m sure we can come up with ways to teach or demonstrate to each other without overly tapping into our resources.”

Werrin looked at the other magicians. “What do you all think?”

Shoulders lifted and heads nodded. “I doubt I have anything new to add,” Prinan said wryly. “I’m no keeper of any great magical secrets.”

“I may have something to offer,” Ardalen said, smiling crookedly. “A little trick my master taught me that may prove useful, which I’m more than willing to share if it helps to protect Kyralia.”

“I think that must be the aim against which we must all weigh any ownership of magical knowledge,” Werrin said. “Secrets may be lost for ever if we lose. And you can be sure no Sachakan master will be paying any Kyralian magician for his unique talents – if we survive being conquered.”

“I doubt there will be any Kyralian magicians left, should the Sachakans be in charge,” Narvelan muttered darkly.

A long silence followed, then Werrin looked around the circle again, this time meeting the eyes of the apprentices.

“Now, do our young charges have any questions, or suggestions?”

Magicians looked at their apprentices, who shook their heads or shrugged. Jayan bit his lip. He realised Dakon was looking at him, one eyebrow raised in question. As Werrin opened his mouth to announce the meeting over, Jayan cleared his throat.

“I have one suggestion,” he said.

All eyes turned to him, and he had to push aside a sudden nervousness.

“Yes, Apprentice Jayan?” Werrin said.

“I know this has come up before, and been rejected, but I would ask that it be reconsidered,” Jayan began, choosing his words carefully. He glanced at Tessia to draw their eyes to her briefly. “Apprentice Tessia and I have had little training from our master since leaving Imardin. For me this is not such a loss, since I have many years of training behind me. Tessia and many of the other apprentices here have had almost no training – perhaps only rudimentary instruction in defending themselves, if any.” He paused to take a breath. “Could we begin training each other now?”

Werrin had already begun to frown in disapproval, anticipating Jayan’s request. He looked at his fellow magicians, most of whom appeared as unimpressed as he with the idea.

“Might I make a different suggestion?” Dakon said.

Jayan looked at his master in surprise, and not a little disappointment. He had been hoping for support, not an alternative.

“I’m sure we all acknowledge how unfortunate it is that we must neglect the training we are obliged to give our apprentices in exchange for strength,” Dakon said.

“Strength they should not be using up needlessly,” Ardalen injected.

“No,” Dakon agreed. “They should not need to protect themselves unless in an unusual or desperate situation. In that case, it would be better to have a weakened apprentice than a dead one, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ardalen nodded and shrugged in agreement.

“Apprentices do not teach apprentices, however,” Dakon continued. “It has been a rule for as long as we remember. We do not have time to spare in instruction. Or do we? How much time does it take for seven magicians to teach the same lesson to seven apprentices? The same time as it would take for one magician to teach the lesson to seven apprentices? I think not.” He smiled. “If we are in agreement on what is taught, is there any harm in one of us teaching a group of apprentices, perhaps sharing the responsibility by teaching in turn, a different magician each time, as the opportunity comes?”

For a while none of the magicians spoke. All looked thoughtful, their gazes moving about the circle and finally settling on Werrin.

“That is a suggestion we may have to think on,” he began.

“No,” Hakkin interrupted. “I think we can decide on this now. So long as these lessons do not take time or power from more immediate and important matters, and we are in agreement over their contents, I am in support of them. I think it will raise our spirits. Help us to feel we are achieving something, at least.”

“Very well.” Werrin looked around the magicians. “Does anyone disagree?”

None of the magicians responded. Jayan felt as if his heart was singing some kind of victory song. It wasn’t what he had been hoping for. It was better, since he had suspected that, as the most experienced apprentice, he’d have been doing most of the teaching if the magicians had agreed to his suggestion.

“Then we shall begin group lessons,” Werrin decided. “Before we discuss the contents of these lessons, and agree on a roster of teachers, let’s attend to the matter of food. I believe the meal is ready.”

Following Werrin’s gaze, Jayan saw that some of the servants were stirring the contents of three large pots, which were sitting on a flat rock that one of the magicians had heated with magic to avoid the smoke of a cookfire.

Soup again
, Jayan thought, groaning quietly.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the ingredients weren’t mostly shrivelled vegetables and the occasional bit of hard, overly salty dried meat.

But he doubted anybody would be complaining. And he knew he’d be too hungry to care anyway.

As Hanara swung the pile of dead branches and twigs off his back he felt the chill air of the night turn his sweat ice-cold. He dropped them beside the fire. Takado was seated before the flames and was staring into them, his expression thoughtful but with hints of the suppressed annoyance that only Hanara knew well enough to recognise.

Jochara squatted beside Takado, ready to leap up and do his master’s bidding. It had taken the new source slave a long time, in Hanara’s opinion, to learn not to interrupt Takado when in one of these moods. The burn across his cheek must hurt. Hanara felt a faint pity, but no great sympathy. Having seen how some of Takado’s allies treated their slaves, he knew he and Jochara were lucky.

And I’m luckier than all of them, because for a short time I was free.

He resisted snorting aloud at himself. The freedom he’d experienced had never been true freedom. He’d known from the start that Takado would return for him. If his freedom had been real, it would not have been temporary. It had been like a small reward. Maybe just a concession – time to recuperate.

The rest of the magicians and their slaves were busy setting up their tents and bringing out food. Since Takado did not indicate otherwise, Hanara returned to the forest. It was getting dark and finding firewood was growing more difficult. At one point something dark slithered across his hand. He dropped the branch he’d picked up, heart pounding, then continued to gather wood while trying to ignore the memory of multiple tiny legs running over his skin.

The fire was a luxury. Takado had chosen to camp in a twisting valley that hid the light of the fire from all but those about to stumble upon it. This far up in the mountains it was still chilly at night. The magicians could keep themselves warm with magic, but they preferred to save their strength.

Just as he had tied the first bundle of sticks together and hoisted it onto his shoulders he heard a voice. Looking further down the valley, he saw floating globes of light appear and several shadows approaching. The glimpses he caught through the trees were fleeting, but there was something familiar about the way these people walked. He abandoned his bundle of sticks and bolted back to the camp.

Takado looked up as Hanara hurried to his side. One eyebrow rose.

“Dovaka,” Hanara panted.

A fleeting scowl darkened Takado’s face, then his expression became calm again. He nodded to the ground.

Hanara huddled down beside Jochara and waited.
This is going to be interesting
, he thought. From what Hanara had overheard, some sort of confrontation had happened between some of Takado’s allies and some Kyralians. Takado had been quiet since. And not a good kind of quiet. His voice had been calm and measured in a way Hanara had learned to dread.

Takado was angry. Very angry.

The other magicians in his group had been cautiously enthusiastic, phrasing their words carefully. One fewer Kyralian, they said, meant one more success to attract supporters to Takado. But mostly they kept their opinions to themselves. Takado had said little, and nothing to indicate his approval or disapproval.

After the camp was established and slaves were sent to the end of the line of communication so that the other group of magicians could find it, they had settled down to wait. Eventually the second group arrived, minus two members, Dovaka and Nagana. None knew anything about the confrontation.

Calls of greeting preceded Dovaka’s arrival, then the man and his friend appeared and slaves of his group followed him into the clearing. Takado rose.

“I hear you have had a busy day,” he said.

Dovaka grinned. “Yes. One of those weak white barbarians came sniffing, all on his own.”

“He found you?” Takado’s eyebrows rose.

A line deepened above Dovaka’s brows at the suggestion he’d failed to remain hidden. “No. He came snooping so we taught him better manners.”

“A lesson I’m sure he’ll have plenty of opportunities to put into practice in future.” Takado finished with a smile.

Dovaka hesitated, then grinned. “No chance at all.”

A silence followed. Hanara noted that the rest of the magicians were watching Takado closely.

Takado’s smile broadened. “Then congratulations on being the first of us to kill a Kyralian magician. You may go down in the records for that. Here.” He glanced down at Jochara. “Let’s sit and celebrate your achievement.” The slave dashed away to the packs and brought back a bottle of spirits, while the magicians all sat down round the fire. As Takado offered Dovaka the first drink his smile faded. “I hope you don’t go down as the man who spoiled our chances of conquering Kyralia.”

Dovaka shrugged. “By killing one Kyralian?”

“Which we all know will have consequences,” Takado replied. “They will have been restraining themselves for the same reasons we have been. Now that we’ve killed one of them they’ll be free to kill us. Their tactics will change. So must ours. Don’t tell me you didn’t realise this? It was why I asked that no Kyralian magician be killed until we were ready.”

“We’re ready,” Dovaka scoffed. “We have the numbers and strength to take over ten villages. You would wait until all of Sachaka was roaming the mountains in hiding.”