The Magician's Apprentice (41 page)

He looked at Vora. “Leave us now. Stara, you should have sought my permission.”

“I’m not a child now, Father,” Stara reminded him gently as Vora backed away. “I don’t need anyone holding my hand.”

“You are a woman,” he snapped. “And this is Sachaka.”

“Nobody bothered me,” she reassured him. “I took slaves—”

“Who could not have done anything to protect you,” he interrupted. “You forget: most free men are magicians here.”

“And lawless savages?” she asked. “Surely there are laws against harming others here. If not, wouldn’t the fear of retaliation from family deter criminals?”

He stared at her. “Is it true what the slaves tell me: that you let Ashaki Kachiro bring you home?” he asked softly.

She blinked at the change of topic. “Yes.”

“You should not have done that.”

She considered all the excuses she could give: that Kachiro had wanted to protect her, or that she hadn’t known whether it was correct to refuse or accept, or that the man was their neighbour, or that Vora hadn’t told her not to. Instead she decided to let him reveal what her best defence was by telling her what concerned him most about Kachiro. “Why not?”

He crossed the room to stand in front of her. Strangely, his gaze focused above her eyes, as if he was looking inside her head.

“What did you tell him?”

She shrugged. “A little bit about my life in Elyne. That Mother and I helped with your trade – but not that Mother was in charge. That there were products at the market that would sell well in Elyne, but not which products. That… you’re not even listening, are you?” His gaze was still fixed on her forehead. She shook her head and sighed. “I find a possible source of profit but you’re not even listening.”

“I have to know what you told him,” he said, more to himself than to her. He reached out and took her head between his hands.

“Father,” she said, trying to pull his hands away, but his grip only tightened. “Ow! Father—”

Suddenly all her attention was drawn inward and she became conscious of something inside her mind that didn’t belong there. A sense of him, laced with suspicion, anxiety and anger. At his direction her memories of the day began to play out – every bit of her frustration at his absence, every shred of her worry for her mother, all the information she had gathered at the market, all of Vora’s advice and futile warnings, and, finally, every word between her and Kachiro. Even her attraction to the man.

He’s reading my mind! I can’t believe he’d do that. Without even asking me if I would let him. Would I, if he asked? Of course not! He’s my father. He’s supposed to trust me. All I did was talk to his neighbour. I don’t deserve to be treated like this!

He delved deeper, seeking more personal information. Had she ever bedded a man? Had she ever been with child? How had she prevented it? Information that was private, that he had no business seeking.

She knew at that moment that she would never trust him again. Love shrivelled and was replaced by hate. Respect died in the face of a burning, raging anger. The bond of loyalty that she’d felt all her life, tested again so recently, broke.

He must have seen it. Felt it. But she sensed no shame or apology. Instead he kept looking, looking, and she knew she had to make him stop.
I have to get him out of my mind NOW!

She reached for magic. He recoiled as he realised what she was doing, letting slip both his control of her mind and his grip on her head. She backed away, and as he reached out to grab her again she knocked his hands back with a slap of power.

He stared at her, his gaze calculating. She felt a rush of fear as she realised he was deciding whether to try again, this time with magic. It would go badly for her, she knew. He was a fully trained higher magician. She had learned magic as opportunity presented itself, and did not know how to draw power from others, let alone have a reserve of stored strength.

The fire in his eyes faded. She hoped that meant he had decided not to pursue her thoughts and memories again. Perhaps he hadn’t seen enough to know the extent of her abilities…

“Your mother should have told me you had learned magic,” he said, his voice laced with disgust and a hint of threat.

“She doesn’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was waiting for the right moment.”

His expression didn’t soften.

“You have made yourself next to valueless as a wife and a daughter,” he told her. His face set in a cold, hard expression and, not looking at her, he strode past her towards the door.

“I learned it for you,” she told him. He paused in the doorway. “Like everything else. Always for you. I thought it would allow me to help you in the trade.”

Without turning, or speaking, he strode away.

The silence that he left her in was empty and full of hurt. She felt a loss, deep inside. But at the same time she felt a hard, cold anger growing to fill the void.
How dare he! His own daughter! Did he ever love me at all?

She felt tears fill her eyes, ran to the bed and threw herself on it. But the sobs she expected didn’t come. Instead she hammered the pillows in frustration and anger, remembering his words: “
You have made yourself next to valueless as a wife and a daughter.”
She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Marrying her off for profit was all that he cared about.
In that case, I’ve just delivered the best revenge I could have managed in this stupid country.
She didn’t care if nobody wanted to marry her.

But that was not true. She did dream of finding the right man, who would appreciate her talents and tolerate her flaws. Just as any woman did.

And if she did not marry, she might be stuck here – locked up in her rooms – for the rest of her life.

Footsteps echoed in the room. She lifted her head and found Vora approaching. The woman’s expression was calm, but Stara caught hints of both anxiety and concern before the woman prostrated herself.
I’m beginning to read her better
, she thought. She dropped her head back to the bed.

“Ah, Vora. I have just experienced the joy of learning I am not just a chattel, but a
useless
chattel.”

The bed shifted slightly as Vora sat on the edge of it. “What is useless to one person can be precious to another, mistress.”

“Is that your way of telling me a husband might turn out to be more loving than my father? It wouldn’t be difficult.”

“Not exactly, though I wouldn’t object to your taking it that way.” Vora sighed. “So. You have magic.”

Stara sat up and considered the old slave. “Listening in, were you?”

Vora smiled faintly. “As always, only for your benefit, mistress.”

“So you heard what he said. Why does having magic make a Sachakan woman useless as a wife?”

Vora shrugged. “Men aren’t supposed to like powerful women. The truth is, not all of them are like that. But they must appear not to, in order to gain respect. Remember what I said: we are all slaves.”

Stara nodded. “If I am useless to him …I guess I can’t hope that he’ll let me help in the trade now. Do you think he’ll send me back to Elyne?”

There was a flicker of something in Vora’s eyes. Surely not dismay. “Perhaps. It is too dangerous to do so now, with the border closed and the ichani doing as they please. He might merely reconsider who to marry you to. Hopefully not someone who likes to break a woman’s spirit – just someone who fancies having such a beautiful wife enough to overlook the annoyance of a bit of magical resistance.”

Stara winced and looked away. “Can’t it be someone I wouldn’t want to resist?”

“Do you think you can mend things with your father?”

_His own daughter _. . . Stara felt anger stir inside again. “Maybe on the surface.”

“Do…do you know how to kill a man while bedding him?” For a moment Stara could not believe what Vora had just asked. Then she turned to stare at the woman. Vora searched Stara’s eyes, then nodded.

“I guess not. I believe it is a skill linked to higher magic.” Vora rose and moved towards the door. “I will have some food and wine brought in.”

As the slave’s footsteps faded, Stara considered what the woman had asked her.
So it’s possible to kill someone that way. Trouble is, to do so you’d have to allow yourself to be bedded by someone you hated so much you wanted to kill them. But I guess if someone forced themself on you, you might want to kill them that much.

She cursed Vora silently. The trouble was, once Stara knew something was possible with magic, she itched to know how to do it. And considering the situation she was in, she had more than just curiosity to fuel her desire to learn this particular skill.

But who was going to teach her?

Tessia yawned. For the last week the apprentices’ day had begun early, with a lesson from one or more of the magicians. Usually the lesson began with one teacher, but often the other magicians would emerge from their tents to watch and comment, and this sometimes led to one of them taking over to contribute something that enhanced the original teacher’s lesson, or, in one case, starting an argument.

“. . . some way of continuing after we deal with the invaders,” a voice said. Tessia resisted the temptation to turn and look at the magicians riding behind her in case it alerted them to the fact that she could hear them.

“I doubt it. Nobody co-operated to this extent before and I expect we’ll revert to our old suspicions and secretiveness again after.”

“But it is so much more efficient.
I’ve
learned new skills. I never realised there were such gaps in my knowledge.”

“Or mine.” There was a wistful sigh. “If there was a way to sustain…”

“We will have to find a way. The healers have their guild. I’ve heard it suggested we should start our own, so…”

As the voices faded Tessia looked at Jayan to see if he’d heard. He was smiling, his eyes bright.

“Do you think one of the apprentices passed on your idea to their master?” she asked.

He looked at her and his shoulders straightened. “Maybe.”

Tessia shrugged. “Perhaps the magicians came to the same conclusion by themselves. They were bound to eventually.”

He frowned at her reproachfully. “Do you think so?”

She smiled. “It would be too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Besides, they haven’t had the time to think it through.”

A few nights before, Jayan had told her of his ideas for a guild of magicians, where knowledge was shared and apprentices were taught by all magicians, not only their masters. They would have badges to identify them as members of the guild in the same way that members of the healers’ guild did, to assure customers that they had been well trained.

His plans had included separating members of the guild into two or three groups and encouraging competition between them in order to spur on invention and the development of skills. She’d pointed out it might also cause division and conflict and suggested a tiered system for the apprentices based on skill and knowledge levels. Perhaps one for each year of learning. Jayan then decided that those on the same level could compete individually or in teams.

She had suggested that magicians might concentrate on one type of skill in order to explore and develop it further. Some might study fighting and defence, others construction techniques for bridges and buildings. She could see potential in the latter for ensuring all constructions in the country were safe, by encouraging magicians to oversee their creation.

Other apprentices had come to join them then, and she’d felt vaguely disappointed. It had been the first extended conversation she’d had with Jayan that she’d truly enjoyed, in which they’d agreed with each other and shared a mutual excitement. When he’d told the other apprentices about his idea she’d been taken aback, though she was not sure why.

I don’t think it was because he put it forward as entirely his idea
, she thought.
Or that it went from being something just between us that he suddenly shared with everyone else. No, it was more a feeling of worry than annoyance. Worry that if he told people about it too early, before it was fully developed, they would forget who came up with it in the first place.

Ahead, the forest receded from the edges of the road and they rode into a small valley divided into fields. The state of the crops dismayed Tessia. Some fields had been left unharvested; others were covered in patches of weeds, having never been planted or maintained. Many of the crops were dry and brown, dead for lack of irrigation. The frustrating side to this wastage was that the Sachakans had never ventured this far south. The people had fled for no reason.

The magicians had abandoned their pursuit of the Sachakans for now, and were returning to the lowlands to meet reinforcements sent by the king. Tessia was looking forward to sleeping on a real bed again, and eating better food. Above all she was looking forward to not having fear constantly nagging at her. She could relax, knowing that they wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked by Sachakans at any moment.

Seeing dark shapes in the field ahead, Tessia grimaced. They had encountered animals dead or dying of starvation or thirst throughout their travels. She heard curses from the magicians and apprentices and silently added her own.

Then she realised that the leaders were urging their horses forward. She felt her stomach sink. None of them would be hurrying to investigate dead animals. As she reconsidered the dark shapes she began to make out human forms.

“How long ago, do you think?” she heard Werrin ask Dakon.

“Not long. A day at the most.” Dakon looked around and his gaze settled on her. His face held a grim question. Suppressing a sigh, she directed her horse to move alongside his and looked down at the first corpse, forcing herself to notice only the colour of the skin and condition of the flesh.

“More than half a day,” she said.

“These people aren’t dressed in clothes warm enough for the night,” Narvelan said. He had moved into the field and was riding back and forth, glancing from side to side. He came back to the road and turned his horse full circle. “Nor are some of them wearing shoes good enough for walking long distances. I think they had carts with them, probably stolen. There are trails of crushed curren moving out in all directions from this point. They must have seen their attackers and scattered.”