by Beth Alvarez
The spoon began to levitate. Threads of energy moved around them like currents in the ocean, rushing power that raced to answer Filadiel's silent call. Rune's snake-slitted eyes widened as he watched, and as the spoon took on the warm glow of a mage-light, he felt it, and he understood.
17
Succession
“Errands again?”
Kytenia rolled her eyes at Rikka’s playful ribbing. She couldn’t do much else with her arms full of books. “Better than to be lounging about in the library.”
Rikka grinned, pushed herself up from the reading table, and moved to join her. “Should I carry some for you?”
“No, these are an urgent request out of Ilmenhith and the Masters are unhappy enough that I know what they are. I’d appreciate it if you would open the door, though.” Kytenia stopped beside it and tried to be patient. The tomes were almost more than she could lift. She didn’t know why Firal wanted a dozen books on machinery and mechanisms, but the request had come through Nondar’s office, so it wasn’t her place to ask questions. Anaide had grumbled so much when she shared the request that Kytenia knew there was something going on.
Rikka pulled the door wide and ushered Kytenia through with a bow. “After you, your apprentice-ness.”
“Being an apprentice doesn’t give you a fancy title. In fact, I’m fairly sure ‘apprentice’ is the opposite of a fancy title. Who wants to be an apprentice?” Kytenia hefted the books against her chest to balance them as she made her way through the temple courtyard. “Do you know if there are any Masters in the Gate rooms right now?”
Rikka shrugged, padding alongside her friend. “There always are. Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Kytenia grunted. “Positive.”
Rikka trailed along beside her anyway.
The Gate rooms had been added at Firal’s behest after Kirban's mages returned to the temple. Similar to the parlor in the palace kept aside for safe Gates, Kirban's Gating rooms hosted nothing but empty arches used for framing portals. The old office building that contained them had never been fully repaired, but a handful of chairs sat scattered through the rooms so people could wait their turn in comfort. With the temple once again serving as the primary base of operations for mages, there were almost always people coming and going. It was an inconvenience for some, having to Gate halfway across the island to tend their duties in other cities, but the bustle meant there were almost always Masters present to manage the Gates. Nondar had mages who could open Gates at his beck and call. As a mageling, Kytenia had to hope she could catch the Masters when they weren’t busy.
The room she chose was half filled with Master mages. A pair of Gates already stood open. One white-robed woman turned to look at them with one eyebrow raised.
“To Ilmenhith,” Kytenia said, peering at the Master over her books. “I am to deliver these to the queen on behalf of Archmage Nondar.”
The Master sighed. “Very well, we’ll send you in a moment.” Then she turned her eyes back to the open Gates.
“Are you meeting with Firal?” Rikka asked, mindful to keep her voice low. Their friend's ascent to the throne had changed a great deal, including how they were expected to speak of her. Referring to the queen in a casual manner was likely to get them both in trouble.
“I don’t know,” Kytenia admitted. “She’s so busy these days. I’ve only seen her once since the baby was born.” Which was not as bad as it could be, she reminded herself. Had Firal stayed in the ruins, she likely never would have seen her again.
Rikka nodded, though her face fell. The changes had been difficult for everyone, but Kytenia often thought Rikka had it worst. After Firal left, Kytenia still had Shymin, even if her new apprenticeship made her relationship with her sister strained. But her duties left no time for anyone else, which meant that for Rikka, the loss of Firal and the death of Marreli—Rikka’s childhood best friend—left her all but alone.
“I’ll tell her you said hello if I see her,” Kytenia offered.
“Tell her she owes us a visit, too.” Rikka smiled, though she still looked sad. Kytenia freed a hand to pat her friend's arm. Then the air surged with power at the opening of a new Gate.
“The queen’s Gate parlor,” one of the Masters called as it stabilized. Kytenia shifted the books in her arms and strode through the open portal at a brisk pace.
More than a dozen court Masters looked at her in surprise as she appeared in the palace's parlor. The Gate dropped closed behind her and Kytenia blinked. It wasn’t unusual for a handful of Masters to be present, just in case someone needed a Gate, but so many meant something must have happened.
“May I help you, girl?” A white-robed court mage stepped forward from the other side of the room.
“The queen requested these books from the temple library,” Kytenia explained. Not for the first time, she wondered if she would benefit from some sort of marker on her mageling's uniform to identify her as the Archmage's apprentice. Her life would be easier without mages questioning her at every turn.
The court Master nodded. “Her Majesty is out at the moment but should return soon. Come along, we’ll leave those in her office.” She led the way into the hall without stopping to see if Kytenia followed.
Kytenia knew the woman led the mages stationed in the palace, but she didn’t know her name. She should have, she realized, having spent so much time in Ilmenhith. And time in the palace, to boot. She made a mental note to review the lists of Masters in leadership positions when she returned to the temple. If she was to work as Archmage’s apprentice, it was likely something she’d need to have memorized anyway.
She already knew the way to Firal’s office, but it would have been rude to refuse the escort. The trip down the hall was short and a moment later, the Master mage pushed the office door open wide and held it with one arm. Kytenia bowed her head and slipped inside.
The office was empty, though the curtains were open and the room was bright and tidy. Firal couldn’t have left long ago. An empty teacup still sat on her desk. Kytenia sighed, carried the books to the desk and divided them into two neat stacks. If only she’d been a bit earlier.
“Were you given any other orders?” the court mage asked.
“No, Master, that’s all.” Kytenia wiped her hands against the front of her green robes. Many books in the temple were still dirty with ash. The dust left her hands dry. She glanced at the books again before she returned to the doorway and stepped into the hall.
“Kytenia?”
The familiar voice made her heart leap into her throat. When she turned and saw Vahn behind her, the warmest of smiles wreathed itself upon her face. He looked magnificent, wearing blue silks and the rich purple cape of royal consort, with a silver circlet on his brow. She opened her arms and stepped toward him.
He stepped back.
Her face fell. She dropped her arms to her sides, her enthusiasm cooling. “My lord,” she murmured.
“Good morning, Lord Vahnil,” the mage said.
“Good morning, Temar.” His face was the most neutral Kytenia had ever seen it.
“The mageling brought the books Her Majesty requested.” Temar gestured toward the office door beside her. “I was about to return her to the temple. Did you have need of her services?”
Vahn stared at Kytenia for a time before nodding. “Yes, actually. I’ll send her to you shortly. Thank you, Temar.”
The court mage bowed her head and turned to make her way back to the Gate parlor on her own.
Kytenia shifted on her feet. “What did you need, my lord?” She kept her tone frosty, her hazel eyes just as cool.
“Nothing.” He offered a nervous smile. “I thought we could talk a moment. Unless you need to go.”
“Not at all.” She looked to the office door. “There, or here?”
Wincing, he looked at the floor. “You’re a beautiful woman, Kytenia, I can’t be with you in private. People would talk.”
Her brows lifted. “You are a king now. Wh
at does it matter if they talk?”
“I’m king-consort,” he replied heatedly, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always did when he was uncomfortable. “And acting as king-regent. There’s a great deal riding on my reputation right now. I can’t do anything to risk it.”
Kytenia’s lips pressed to a thin line. “I see.”
“Don’t be angry at me, Kyt. I’m here because you told me to be.”
She knew she couldn’t be angry, not if she wanted to be fair. But it still hurt that he wouldn’t so much as touch her, not even to offer the casual embrace of friends. Her heart broke all over again.“It doesn’t appear to be a burden. You seem very comfortable in your new life.”
Vahn shrugged. “This isn’t where I planned to end up, but I'm making the best of what I have. I’m sure you do the same.”
“I suppose so,” she said.
He cleared his throat, and moved his weight to his other foot. His hands twitched at his sides as if he wanted to do something. Touch her, perhaps. Or rub his neck again. “I guess I’d best let you get back to the temple, then.”
“And you should return to your work,” Kytenia said. “The Archmage is waiting for me.”
“Of course.” He turned to the office door. “It was good to see you.”
Kytenia smiled and dipped in a curtsy, unable to say the same. She restrained herself to a walk on her way back to the Gating parlor.
If only she’d been able to trade places with Firal. Her new position beneath Nondar opened a great number of opportunities, though most meant staying in the temple. She imagined she would end up as a teacher after graduation, able to pass on whatever she learned from working with the Archmage. But it wasn’t the life she wanted. Teaching had been Firal’s dream.
Vahn had been hers.
“You shouldn't be walking on your own, Archmage.”
Nondar knew the girl meant well, but the way she spoke to him as if he were a doddering old man grated on his nerves. He glowered, then felt a wash of guilt the moment Kytenia shrank back. He had appointed her as his assistant. It wasn't fair to be angry at her for trying to assist. He forced his expression to soften. “I am still capable of walking from one end of the tower to another. We aren't going far. Besides, walking is why you fetched this for me.” He thumped his cane against the floor and managed a chuckle.
It was a struggle to walk, but he wasn't about to let a mageling see that. This was the first time he'd escaped his room in days, and there was more to do than just sit in the garden for fresh air. Of course, a visit to the temple garden wouldn't be unwelcome after business was taken care of. The new plantings were coming along, and the fire-scarred trees were covered in leaves. The worst of the damage had been pruned out and the new growth promised a full recovery.
Would that the temple itself could recover so well. Nondar's eyes darkened and he hobbled on down the hallway with Kytenia close at his heels. She rarely left his side, neglecting her studies to tend him—the poor, frail Archmage—through all hours of the night and day. He would have to remember to push her studies, encourage the girl to keep up the practice of her magecraft. She was a skilled healer. Were things different, she might have made a good head for the House of healing after she graduated to Master white. Too many positions still sat empty, too many Masters carrying outside obligations that kept them from being considered. But it could be worse. They could have been trapped in Ilmenhith, unable to tend the chapter houses scattered across half of the island.
Kytenia hurried ahead to open the door to his office. Edagan and Anaide already waited inside, sitting at the council table and conversing in low tones. They grew quiet when he appeared in the doorway. Edagan's face remained placid, but Anaide couldn't quite contain her sneer. Nondar's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He was Archmage and deserved respect, but didn't have the energy to reprimand her, knowing the fight it would begin. He often thought the two women resembled vultures, both circling above his failing body and waiting to strip the title of Archmage from his bones.
“Did you know Ennil Tanrys has given himself a seat on the queen's council?” Anaide demanded.
Nondar's thick white brows lifted, though he was careful to mask his surprise with amusement. He hadn't known, but Ennil was a shrewd man—if single-minded. If he sat on Firal's council, it meant Nondar no longer had to shelter the girl from these harpies on his own. “A man cannot give himself authority. He must receive it from the queen. If he sits on her council, it's because Firal wishes him there.”
“You aren't concerned?” Edagan sounded startled, but a hint of curiosity colored her tone. She was willing to hear him out. Anaide was not.
The Archmage did not reply right away, watching Kytenia cross to the table to pull out his chair. Even if Ennil's involvement was acceptable to discuss in front of magelings, he wouldn't want to speak of it in front of her. Kytenia should have been heiress to House Tanrys, instead of a green-ranked mageling in a dying school of magic. As Nondar sank into his chair, he offered the girl a smile. “That is all for now, my dear. Go tend your studies. I will send someone to fetch you when you are needed again.”
“Yes, Archmage,” Kytenia murmured with a bow. Nondar knew she worked hard to keep her composure, but she couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes. He knew what loneliness was like and he pitied her, but there was little to be done for it now.
Turning his ice-blue eyes to the two women at the table, Nondar folded his hands together and waited until he heard the door close behind him. Then he sighed and his expression hardened. “The two of you speak as if the Tanrys name isn't trustworthy. Do you fear him?”
Anaide scowled. “He will try to turn her against us. He knows how close we are to controlling the throne. There's no doubt he'd want to wrest the girl from our grasp. He'll want his own family in charge, and we're all that stands in his way.”
Nondar leaned back in his seat. How he'd become entangled with so many mages who prioritized political power over magical prowess, he'd never know. “His family is close enough to power. He'll wish only to strengthen Firal's hold over Elenhiise. Or did you forget that his grandchild is next in line for the throne?”
“And how long will he believe the girl is his grandchild?” Edagan asked. “She looks enough like her mother that no one questions it now, but looks change, and something of her father is sure to surface. She has his eyes already.”
The Archmage waved a gnarled hand. “Eldani children are slow to grow, especially those with strong mages for parents. Firal herself is barely into adulthood. At twenty pents, she's the youngest ruler we've ever had. Ennil Tanrys is Giftless and aging. He will be gone before there is ever a doubt.”
Both women fell silent, neither able to combat his point. Satisfied, he went on. “Now, let's move on to why I've called you. I wish to raise magelings through the ranks, and protocol requires I speak to you first.” That had been one of his first changes to temple rules after he became Archmage, unanimously supported by the other Masters. It was a mild inconvenience, but he preferred inconvenience to the role of Archmage being like that of a monarch, who shouted orders and expected them to be followed.
“Which magelings?” Edagan asked.
“I have a guess,” Anaide murmured.
Nondar gave her a sharp look. “My apprentice, yes. Kytenia is a dedicated student and a skilled healer, but there are some things I cannot teach her—formally, at least—until she is given the rank allowing such lessons.”
Anaide's eyes narrowed. “Why such a need to rush?”
The old Archmage barked a laugh and rapped his cane against the edge of the table. “The look in your eyes answers the question. I am the former head of the House of healing. There are skills in healing I have mastered that some don't realize exist. If I am to pass on this knowledge, time is of the essence, and there are few healers still in the temple who are talented enough to learn.”
Edagan looked thoughtful, drumming her fingers against the tabletop. “And the other magelin
gs? Her sister?”
“No. Not yet, at least.” Nondar hesitated. How hard would they resist? “But there are two others. Ellaith, a girl brought in from the chapter house in Wethertree. And Rikka, a girl you both are familiar with. All three are green magelings.”
Edagan nodded. “I remember speaking to Ellaith after exams, following our return to Kirban. A reasonable girl. Good head on her shoulders.”
“I would say Rikka is an odd choice, given her wind affinity, but I do know she has redoubled her efforts in learning healing after the battle outside of Ilmenhith.” A somber expression crept over Anaide's face, but she shrugged. “So you wish to raise all three to blue? I've no complaints.”
The Archmage's eyebrows twitched, the only outward display of his surprise. He had expected a fight, but their gentle acceptance of his need for haste was more unsettling. “Excellent. I will have their new robes issued immediately.”
“There is another matter we'd like to discuss, while we are here.” Anaide laced her fingers together and rested her hands atop the table. “Something somewhat related.”
Nondar knew where she was heading, but said nothing. He gestured for her to go on.
“You know the temple is faltering. Mages struggle to find consistent work and the hunger spreading across the island will soon find us here. With that in mind, and considering your health, Edagan and I feel it may be best for a certain matter to be settled.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you so eager to chase me into my grave?”
“Naming your successor is vital,” Edagan insisted. “Especially in a time like this. We need to show the rest of the island that the temple has planned for the future. That the mages will be a part of it. With the state things are in, some of the noble houses of Ilmenhith believe the temple dies with you.”