The Magician's Apprentice (68 page)

“The slaves?” She shook her head. “We’re relying too much on the idea that Sachaka’s slaves are going to rejoice at us marching in and changing their lives. They may not want us to. They may be loyal to their masters. Hanara returned to Takado, after all. They may not co-operate. They may resist us. Non-magicians can fight, too. You don’t need magic – as you showed when you set fire to the storeroom to save the apprentices.”

She may be right
, he thought. “But not all slaves will be like Hanara,” he reasoned. “If he had been truly loyal to Takado, he’d have left Mandryn as soon as he was well enough. He probably only returned to Takado because he knew his master was close by, and that Mandryn wasn’t safe any more. If he didn’t think he could escape, he’d think he had no choice.”

Tessia gave him an oddly approving look. “Even so, Hanara did not adjust to freedom well. He did not make friends or trust anyone… except me, I think.” She looked away. “I don’t think Sachaka’s slaves are going to trust or befriend us just because we free them. They won’t know what to do with themselves. Without someone ordering their lives, fields won’t be harvested, food won’t be prepared. They’ll starve.”

“Then we’ll have to help them learn a different way of doing things.”

Tessia looked back at the magicians riding behind them. “Do you think enough of us will want to stay here, afterwards, to help Sachaka’s slaves adapt to freedom? Or will everybody go home?”

Jayan doubted many would stay, but he did not want to admit that. He shrugged, instead.

“I can’t help thinking what we’re doing is wrong.” Tessia sighed. “We’re so convinced that all Sachakan magicians are bad. But not all of them joined Takado. Those who did are nearly all dead, so the magicians we’re going to fight will be mostly those that didn’t want to invade us.”

“Just because they didn’t fight doesn’t mean they didn’t support the idea of invading,” Jayan reminded her. “Some might not have been able to fight. Perhaps they were too old, or not well trained enough. Perhaps some were too caught up in something else to leave Sachaka. We can’t assume they were all against their country taking back lands that they once considered theirs.”

Tessia nodded, then glanced at him sidelong. “So how do we tell who was and who wasn’t in favour of the war?”

Jayan considered this. “I expect that if most were against it, they’ll get together and meet with us peacefully.”

“But if only a few were against it?”

“There are always a few people who don’t agree with the majority – or their rule. We can’t let Sachaka recover and return to invade us again because a few of them might be nice people.” He felt frustration rising. “Surely you can see that we must do this to stop Sachaka invading again.”

“I can,” she replied. “But I can also see that it could be disastrous if we lose. Should our invasion of Sachaka fail, Kyralia will be left with a handful of magicians to defend it. The Sachakans will invade us in turn, again, and nobody will be able to stop them.”

Jayan felt his stomach sink at the thought, but as he considered it he realised she had nothing to fear. “Even if the Sachakans win, they’ll be weak as well. The magicians in Imardin have a whole city willing to give them strength. Whether that strength is taken by a few magicians or many, it’s still enough to deter a few Sachakans.”

“Even if those Sachakans have the strength of all the slaves here?” She turned to look at him.

Darn it, she’s right.
He bit his lip. “Are you suggesting we kill the slaves, just in case we lose?”

“No!” She glared at him. “We shouldn’t be invading in the first place. It’s justifiable to kill in defence, but saying we’re here to protect ourselves from future invasions is… you could justify
anything
saying that. It’s . . . wrong.”

Jayan stared back at her. He remembered what Dakon had said the night before. “If we must invade Sachaka in order to save Kyralia, let’s not become Sachakans.”

Perhaps he could dismiss Tessia’s worries as those of someone whose morals were good, but impractical. Even as he disagreed with her he could not help admiring her for her desire to do right. He could not so easily dismiss the opinion of his former master and teacher, either.

“Strategically, we should kill the slaves, but we won’t. We have the luxury of doing things differently from the Sachakans because we have the storestone. And our different ways… our better morals… maybe they’re something we can give to them. Freedom for the slaves and better morals for the magicians. Surely that’s something worth fighting for?”

She glanced at him then looked away, her expression full of doubt. Whether it was at what he said, or at her own opinions, he couldn’t tell. She said nothing, and they rode on in an awkward silence for some time, before Jayan gave up and dropped back to ride next to Mikken again.

The road into Sachaka had stretched across the bare skin of the mountains first, twisting this way and that as it descended steeply. Then, abruptly, it reached the hills below, where it took the easier route along flat valley floors, going wherever the water-courses went.

But the Kyralian army did not venture into the gentler landscape at first. It had camped in the shelter of a forest. Though it had been late afternoon, all but the first watch lay down to sleep.
Or attempt to
, Tessia thought wryly. She had lain on her pallet, listening to the other women breathing, wide awake and unable to stop worrying about Jayan and the outcome of this conquest.

Now, as the army rode silently into the populated lowlands of Sachaka, she ached with tiredness and wished she’d managed to sleep.
Tired in my body; tired in my mind. Tired of worrying; tired of arguing with Jayan over what we’re doing
.

They’d talked twice more, once after he’d volunteered to go with the group of magicians who would investigate the groups of buildings they encountered on the way, and again, briefly, as they had neared the first settlement.

Now he was gone, riding with twenty or so other magicians, led by Narvelan, down a side road towards distant white walls glowing in the moonlight.

What I suspect bothers me the most is that I know he’s right
, she thought.
But I’m also sure he isn’t. Invasion is wrong. It makes us the aggressor. It makes us more like the Sachakans. Less certain we are better than them.

Yet I also can’t help thinking we would have to do far worse to be as cruel and immoral as they. Perhaps the harm we do will be balanced by the good. We could make Sachaka a better place. We could end slavery for good.

It’s going to come at a cost. It’s going to change the way we see ourselves. How much are we willing to restrain ourselves in order to be right and moral? If we justify this, then how much easier will it be to justify worse? If Kyralians believe a little wrongdoing is excusable for the right reason, what else will we excuse, or assume others will excuse?

She sighed.
If Jayan is right, then we are risking our future for the benefit of a people who have torn our country apart. I’m not sure many magicians would be putting their lives in danger if they saw it that way. A few may be that noble, but not all. No, most magicians are here to take advantage of our sudden magical superiority and, I suspect, to have their revenge.

A faint murmur among the magicians roused her from her thoughts. She looked down the side road towards the faint shapes of the distant buildings. Shadows moved before them. Though she could not make out recognisable shapes, they moved in the rhythmic, jolting way of riders coming at speed. Something about this haste filled her with dread.

As the riders came close they shifted from shadows to familiar figures. She was relieved to see Jayan among them, and that nobody was missing. Jayan wore a grim, unhappy expression. So did most of the others. Narvelan did not. His straight back suggested defiance or indignation.

Or I am reading too much into this
? she thought, watching Narvelan and two others meet with the king, Sabin and the leader of the Elynes. The rest of the group split up, some staying to listen to the men talking, some moving away. Tessia saw Jayan shake his head, then direct his horse towards her, Mikken and Dakon.

“So,” Dakon murmured. “Did our neighbours give you a friendly reception?”

Jayan didn’t quite manage a smile. “The master of the estate wasn’t home. Just… slaves.” He looked away, a haunted look in his eyes.

“And the slaves?” Dakon prompted when Jayan didn’t continue.

Jayan sighed. “Weren’t happy to see us and didn’t much like our plans for them.”

“So Narvelan offered them their freedom?”

“Yes.” Jayan frowned and looked at Dakon again. Tessia glimpsed pain, guilt and a darkness in his eyes, then his expression became guarded. “When we arrived they opened doors for us, then threw themselves flat on the ground. Narvelan told them to get up. He told them we were there to free them, if they cooperated with us. Then he began to ask questions. They told us their master was away, and who he was, but when he asked where he was it was clear they were lying.”

He grimaced. “So Narvelan ordered one to approach, and he read the man’s mind. He saw that they had sent messengers to their master, who is visiting a neighbour, and that they were loyal to him. Afraid of him, but loyal. They did not understand what freedom was. Our offer was meaningless to them.

“We started to argue about what to do next, but Narvelan said we had no time. The slaves were already spreading word of us. We must stop them and we must take their power. So we did, while he left to catch up with the messengers.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “When he returned he found we had done what we’d agreed – left the slaves alive but too exhausted to move. He looked at them and said we had to kill them. In a few hours they would have regained enough strength to leave and warn of our approach. So . . .” Jayan closed his eyes. “So he killed them. To save us the… from feeling responsible.”

A shiver of horror ran down Tessia’s spine and she heard Mikken curse under his breath. She tried not to imagine the slaves, too exhausted to move, realising as the first of their number died that they faced the same fate and knowing they were helpless to stop it, to even run.

Dakon looked at Narvelan and the king, then back at Jayan.

“Ah,” he said. Instead of anger, Tessia saw sadness in her master’s face. Then his eyes narrowed. She looked over at the army leaders. They had begun to move forward, Narvelan riding at the king’s side, smiling.

Smiling! After just killing so many… How many?
She turned to Jayan.

“How many? How many slaves?” she asked, then wondered why it was suddenly so important.

He looked at her strangely. “Over a hundred.” Then his frown faded and he managed a weak smile. “Not even your healing will help, I’m afraid. Not this time.” He looked away. “I wish it could.”

I wasn’t thinking it could
, she thought.
But from the look of him, I don’t think pointing that out will help much.
Dakon nudged his horse into a walk and hers and Jayan’s followed suit. They rode in silence. Jayan’s words repeated over and over in Tessia’s mind.

“What I don’t understand,” Mikken said after a while, “is why Narvelan thought killing the slaves would prevent the Sachakans realising we were here. Once their master returns home it will be obvious something is wrong. And surely the Sachakans are going to notice a few hundred Kyralians riding through and camping in their land.”

“Yes,” Dakon agreed. “I’m wondering why we ever thought we’d be able to sneak up on them. Or why those who should know better even suggested it.”

“Do you think they said whatever they thought would get the army here, knowing that once we were we couldn’t change our minds?” Tessia asked.

Neither Dakon nor Jayan answered. But they didn’t need to. The anger she had expected from Dakon earlier was now clear in his face. Jayan looked worried. For that, she felt a pang of sympathy. He must feel as if he’d taken part in the slaughter of the slaves.

“I think,” Jayan said, so quietly that Tessia was only just able to hear him. “I think Lord Narvelan may be a little mad. And the king knows it, and is letting him do what the rest of us might not.”

Dakon nodded slowly, his gaze still on his neighbour and friend. “I’m afraid you may be right, Jayan.”

From within the corridor, Hanara watched as another man entered the master’s room and was greeted by Ashaki Charaka. The man wore a knife at his belt, so he was also a magician. He greeted Takado, Asara and Dachido with friendly curiosity and a touch of admiration. Hanara felt a familiar pride. The long-life feeling.

My master is a hero. It doesn’t matter that he failed to conquer Kyralia. He is a hero because he tried
.

Beside him, Asara’s slave stirred. “Something’s not right,” she whispered.

His stomach clenched and the long-life feeling vanished. He scowled at her. “What?”

She shook her head, her eyes dark with fear. “I don’t know. Something.”

He turned away. Foolish woman. He looked at the magicians who had gathered to meet his master. Ashaki Charaka was old, but moved with the confidence of a man used to power and respect. The others were from neighbouring estates. Most of their domains weren’t in the path of the Kyralian army. Unable to take the road, since the Kyralians were using it, and travelling on foot, Takado and his friends had spent two days descending the mountain. They took a direct route that put them in land a few estates away from those most likely to be invaded first.

The magicians didn’t know about the enemy army yet. Takado was clearly waiting for the right time to tell them. Instead he had begun relating stories of the early days in Kyralia, of villages of people left to their own devices, working the land belonging to their master as they pleased, without his protection. How easy they were to take.

The other magicians listened closely. Hanara watched each of them in turn. None of the five hesitated to ask questions, and Takado answered with an honesty that clearly surprised them.