The Magic War (The Eastern Slave Series Book 5)

by Victor Poole

  Ajalia was not sure if Philas's change was completely due to the magical cleanse she had put him through late last night, or if Leed had managed to inspire in the slave some kind of respect for himself, and some hope and interest in the future. As Ajalia listened to Fashel talk about her purchases in the market that morning, and as Philas stared avidly at Fashel's animated face, Ajalia began to suspect another reason for Philas's good humor. He looked at Fashel in a way that, to Ajalia, was reminiscent of the way that Delmar sometimes stared at her. She wondered if Isacar had noticed that his soon-to-be wife was being pursued by such an insidiously determined force as Philas could be, when he liked. Well, Ajalia told herself, Fashel was not married yet, and could be seen yet as fair game, from the perspective of pure ardor.

  "We took out the little jennet," Fashel said, and she continued to chatter over the vegetables, explaining the money she had spent, and the clothes that Leed had directed one of the other boys to buy. Ajalia divided her attention between Fashel and Philas, and thought of what she would do, if Philas meant it. Ajalia could see desire and liking in Philas's face, and his eyes were far more intent than they had ever been when he had fixed them on her. He looked a little like a man possessed; Ajalia was sure that Philas was waiting for her to go away and let him get back to work on Fashel, whom, Ajalia was quite sure, was yet unaware of how seriously Philas meant to continue as he had begun.

  Fashel was speaking with no embarrassment; she looked totally without concern for her appearance, or for how Philas was looking at her. Fashel looked utterly charming over the vegetables that she was cutting. Ajalia had looked over the young woman when Isacar had brought her home to the dragon temple, and she had seen that Fashel was a reasonably nice-looking young lady, but now Fashel had undergone a startling transformation. She gestured as she spoke of Pudge, and of how she and the boys had met Denai, and how Denai had told them all about Pudge's heritage and previous ownership. Ajalia was sure that it was the kitchen, and the cooking that was putting a bright flush of pleasure and beauty into Fashel's eyes. Fashel looked quite different than she had; her hair seemed to fall with more grace, and it was tied back efficiently to keep out of Fashel's way. Fashel's hair yesterday had been arranged neatly, in the fashion of a well-bred young lady, but now her hair was slung tidily out of the way, and her sleeves had little dashes of flour all over the edges. She had found or purchased an apron, which was tied neatly around her waist, and she held a knife in one hand. Her fingers were stained with the juice of the vegetables that she cut, and she moved deftly in the kitchen, from table to counter. When she had finished one task, she moved seamlessly on to the next. A small fire was crackling busily in the hearth, and a very large pot was boiling there with ridiculously good smells. When Fashel, who was busily describing the market to Ajalia, and talking through every counter-step that occurred in her negotiation for her purchases, had finished with her vegetables, she swept them into a bowl, and took them tidily to the bubbling pot.

  "Stir this," Fashel told Philas, handing him a long wooden spoon. Philas leapt into action with all the promptness of a man doing the behest of his beloved, and Ajalia swallowed a smile. I did right to come downstairs, she told herself, and she tried to decide if she wanted to alert Fashel to the affection that was clearly burgeoning in Philas's heart.

  "I didn't want to get the biggest pot," Fashel was telling Ajalia. The young woman emptied out a bag of some coarse yellow flour, and began to build an aromatic dough upon the table. "I didn't know how many people the boys will bring today," Fashel said, "and I don't have quite enough of the halles to make the right texture in soup. That's halles," Fashel added seamlessly, pointing to a long pile of tubers that lay along the opposite counter. "You can put that spoon down, now, thank you," Fashel told Philas, and when Philas came directly to the table, and stood staring at Fashel, the long spoon grasped in his hand, Fashel glanced at him, and make an impatient 'tsk' with her lips. Fashel took the spoon from Philas, and set it down. "Peel those," Fashel commanded, pointing at the pile of tubers, "and only take off the skin. I need all the meat inside."

  "Yes," Philas said, and Ajalia was sure that he had to stop himself from adding, "and I love you, Fashel."

  Ajalia's smile grew wider.

  "Philas," Ajalia said. Fashel, who had opened her mouth to continue her narrative of the day's shopping, snapped her lips closed, and looked at Ajalia.

  "Yes," Philas said cautiously. He had taken the knife Fashel had used, and his back was to Ajalia as he began to peel the tubers. Ajalia saw Philas's shoulders grow exceedingly still and quiet; she was quite sure that he was begging her silently not to ruin his plan of slowly seducing the affections of Fashel away from Isacar, and carrying the girl off to Saroyan with him.

  "Nothing," Ajalia said, and turned back to Fashel. Fashel, seeing that she once again had Ajalia's attention, launched anew into her story, and Ajalia listened, and watched the heap of dough grow under Fashel's hands.

  "I have to get some more wood," Fashel said, interrupting herself. "My fire is not nearly big enough for this bread. The boys have been storing up for me," she added, smiling with pleasure. Ajalia could see that every person in the house had been expressing strong feelings of support for Fashel's cooking; her pleasure and sense of accomplishment was palpable. Fashel went quickly out of the kitchen, and Philas, his hand gripping a half-carved tuber, went at once to Ajalia.

  "Please don't scare her off," Philas pleaded, turning pathetic eyes on Ajalia.

  "She's my cook," Ajalia pointed out.

  "But I think I love her," Philas whispered, his eyes fixed on the place where Fashel would appear in a moment.

  "She's getting married in a few days," Ajalia said. Philas's face darkened.

  "That idiot doesn't even like her," Philas fumed. His eyebrows looked as though they were going to swallow up his eyes. "He's marrying her to further his career. He told me so. He said that all really efficient men have wives, and so he's talked Fashel into marrying him. She can't do it. She deserves better."

  "Have you told Fashel this?" Ajalia asked. She was genuinely curious about this.

  "Of course not!" Philas hissed, looking a little deranged. "Do you want to scare her off? I have to get her to like me first!"

  "You really love her?" Ajalia asked Philas. Philas looked at her, and he looked almost wounded by her question.

  "Do you love Delmar?" Philas asked aggressively. "You only knew him for five minutes when you knew that you loved him. I don't see why I can't fall in love as well as you can!" he said. Philas was keeping his voice very low; he looked still at the place where Fashel would come back, and Ajalia was sure that Philas would dart back to the tubers as soon as the young woman showed herself again.

  "I like her cooking," Ajalia said. "I want her to stay here."

  "Well, I can't marry her yet," Philas said, as though it was obvious. "I have to go and get my throne, and then I have to make sure I'm not actually a drunk anymore." Ajalia blinked. She remembered the selfish way that Philas had claimed to love her, back when Delmar had first begun to follow Ajalia around, much in the same way that Philas looked now to be following Fashel around.

  "Do you really mean any of that?" she asked seriously. Philas looked appalled.

  "Fashel is the most important person in the world!" Philas whispered. "She has to have everything all right. I would never marry her unless I was all right first. Or drag her into a war. You ask the stupidest questions sometimes, Jay." Philas looked as though he had lost much respect for Ajalia in the last thirty seconds.

  "Well," Ajalia said.

  "Promise me you won't say anything," Philas hissed, glancing again at the door. Fashel's footsteps sounded outside, and Philas scurried back to the tubers, and began nonchalantly to peel. Fashel came in, carrying several thick sticks of wood, and began to build up a second fire that had begun to die down in the hearth. The hearth was quite large, and Ajalia noticed now that Fashel had arranged two small fires, one beneath the simmerin
g pot, and one at the far end of the deep hearth.

  "So I used everything you gave me," Fashel said, continuing where she had left off in her story, "and the other boys all gave me some coins as well. I told them I'll pay them back as soon as I get more," Fashel added quickly, and she looked askance at Ajalia. "I know you said you wouldn't pay me more for a few days," Fashel said hesitantly. Before she could continue, Ajalia took the fat leather purse out of her bag, and dropped it heavily on the counter.

  "Take it all," Ajalia said. "Philas," she added, "I'm going to talk about you. Do you want to stay and hear?" Philas froze. His back was to the women, but Ajalia imagined his face twisting in anticipatory torment. He uttered a strangled noise. "I'm going to take that as a go-ahead, then," Ajalia said. "Fashel, when are you and Isacar getting married?" Philas let out a strangled squeak; Ajalia ignored him, but Fashel frowned, and looked around at Philas.

  "What is wrong with Philas?" Fashel asked Ajalia.

  "Heartburn, I guess," Ajalia said with a smile. Fashel's eyes darkened.

  "My food does not give anyone heartburn," Fashel snapped. Philas, who looked as though he had just seen someone murder a small kitten, turned around. His face was brilliant red, and his hand on the hilt of the knife was shaking.

  "Fashel is right," Philas said clearly. "I am not suffering from any ill effects from the food. The food," Philas told Fashel earnestly, "is the best food in the history of the world." Fashel was still frowning, and looking at Philas suspiciously.

  "What's going on?" Fashel asked. "Are you two having a secret?"

  "Yes," Ajalia said.

  "No!" Philas said. He looked pleadingly at Ajalia.

  "Philas," Ajalia said.

  "No," Philas said hoarsely. He looked as though he was about to cry.

  "Philas, she's getting married," Ajalia said sensibly. "If you don't say anything, how is she supposed to find out?"

  "Find out what?" Fashel demanded. The young woman was beginning to look a little angry. "What do you mean?" Fashel asked again. She glared around at Philas, who really did begin to cry. Fashel's eyes widened at this. She looked around at Ajalia. "Why is he crying?" Fashel asked Ajalia quietly. Ajalia looked at Philas, and waited. Fashel looked over at Philas, too, and waited. "Well, what is it, Philas?" Fashel asked. Philas did not say anything at all. "Should I go away again, so you two can have secrets?" Fashel demanded, sounding irate.

  "No!" Philas yelped. He looked guiltily at Ajalia, and then at Fashel. "It's about Isacar," Philas got out. His voice sounded strangled.

  "What about Isacar?" Fashel asked. Fashel sounded annoyed. Her eyes were narrowed. Ajalia began to get the idea that all was not right between Fashel and Isacar. Ajalia heard a harsh note in Fashel's voice when she spoke her betrothed's name.

  "I don't want to repeat it," Philas said. "It's horrifying."

  "Did Isacar say something about my food?" Fashel demanded. Her eyes were flashing, and color had mounted up into her cheeks. "What did he say this time?" Fashel asked. She sounded angry enough to go on a rampage; Ajalia saw now that Philas had good reason to believe that Fashel's wedding had a chance of being cancelled. She wondered if Philas had known about this tension between the couple before he had spoken; she rather thought that he hadn't known, because he was looking now as if he had stumbled into a forbidden paradise.

  "It was an awful lie," Philas said. "He's jealous. Everyone loves you now, and no one but Ajalia likes him." Ajalia stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She did not expect Philas to see any use at all in such a person as Isacar, seeing as that young man held a supreme position in Fashel's life just now.

  "What did he say?" Fashel asked. She used a very low, very quiet voice, and Ajalia, though she did not often find other people intimidating, felt a shiver of trepidation pass up her spine. Fashel, Ajalia told herself, was not a young woman to cross. Although, Ajalia thought, if Isacar really had said anything disparaging about Fashel's cooking, the young man was more of a fool than she would had thought possible. Ajalia did not know how anyone could find anything negative at all to say about Fashel's cooking.

  "Did Isacar really say something?" Ajalia asked Philas. Philas, who clearly thought that he was gaining some importance in the eyes of Fashel, glared daggers at Ajalia.

  "Yes," Philas snapped. "He said something that I will not repeat."

  "Tell me," Fashel said in a hard voice.

  "I can't repeat it," Philas said. He began to cry again, and Ajalia saw that his tears were quite genuine.

  "Why are you crying, Philas?" Ajalia asked. She was dumbfounded. She had never seen Philas like this, and she had known Philas for quite a long time. She was very used to Philas the drunken man, and Philas the cranky and bitter man, and Philas the sarcastic wit, but a Philas of sentiment, and of pathetic tears, she had never encountered. "Why are you crying?" Ajalia asked again. Philas swiped at his eyes, and made an angry exclamation.

  "If I tell you what Isacar said to me," Philas said to Fashel, "then you will feel as though I agree with him. I won't say those words," Philas said.

  "I won't think it was you who said those things," Fashel said impatiently. "Just tell me what Isacar said.

  "Yes, you will," Philas said quickly. He glanced swiftly at Ajalia, and Ajalia was sure that he wanted her to go away.

  "No, I won't," Fashel said. "But I will be very angry with both of you if you don't tell me." Philas looked terrified at this thought.

  "I don't want you to ever, ever be angry at me," Philas said. He controlled himself, but tears were still seeping down his cheeks.

  "Why are you crying?" Fashel shouted in frustration at Philas.

  "Because I'm in love with you!" Philas shouted back. He snapped up his mouth as soon as he had said this, and his eyes widened with shock. Philas stared at Fashel for a long moment, and his cheeks had gone utterly pale. He put the knife on the counter, and fled. A stunned silence filled up the kitchen, on Fashel's part, for some time. Ajalia went over to the knife that Philas had dropped, and she picked it up. Ajalia put the knife down again.

  "Have you got anything set up for washing hands?" Ajalia asked. Fashel went to a bowl against the wall, and brought it to Ajalia. A mixture of water and a little poison juice was inside; Ajalia dipped her hands in, and rubbed the juice over her skin. The juice, as it had on the night Bain had appeared, felt tingly and pleasant. Ajalia began to peel the tubers, and Fashel replaced the bowl.

  "He can't really like me," Fashel said.

  "Why not?" Ajalia asked, her eyes fixed on the tuber she was peeling with the knife. Fashel made a light scoffing noise.

  "Because," Fashel said. She sounded a little embarrassed. Ajalia turned around, and looked at Fashel.

  "Do you like Philas?" Ajalia demanded. Fashel hemmed and hawed a little, and then she began to look annoyed.

  "It isn't anyone's business, anyway," Fashel said finally.

  "You're right," Ajalia said, and went back to peeling tubers. Ajalia heard the slight pound of Fashel kneading the dough, and she smiled to herself. She remembered how angry she had been for weeks after she had met Delmar for the first time.

  "It's easy for you," Fashel said finally. "You have Delmar." Ajalia could not stop herself from laughing. "What is funny about that?" Fashel demanded angrily. "You do!"

  "I do now," Ajalia said. "He couldn't even be civil to me until about three days ago." The pounding sound stopped for a while.

  "What do you mean?" Fashel asked.

  "I mean what I said," Ajalia said, taking up a new tuber. "When I met Delmar, he followed me around and asked me silly questions. He also lied a lot," Ajalia added. Fashel said nothing, and Ajalia turned and looked at her.

  "That can't possibly be true," Fashel said doubtfully.

  "Why not?" Ajalia asked. She saw Fashel eyeing her cautiously.

  "Well, I'm going to marry Isacar," Fashel said carefully.

  "Philas told me he wanted to marry me once," Ajalia said, turning back to the counter. After a moment of s
ilence, she heard the dough drop down onto the table, and then Fashel appeared at her elbow. Fashel's hands and wrists were coated with flour and scraps of sticky dough.

  "What happened?" Fashel asked.

  "With Delmar?" Ajalia asked. Fashel's cheeks reddened.

  "No, with Philas," Fashel said boldly. Ajalia met the young woman's eyes briefly.

  "You know that he is a slave," Ajalia said.

  "Yes," Fashel said. Fashel sounded defensive.

  "I've known him for a very long time," Ajalia said. "We've both belonged to my master for many years."

  "Okay," Fashel said, "but what happened?" Fashel waited impatiently, and then added, "When he wanted to marry you? And how long ago was this?"

  "My boy told me that Philas was just trying to trick me into doing most of his work," Ajalia said. "I think that my boy was right." Fashel thought about this.

  "Did you kiss him?" Fashel asked.

  "He kissed me a few times," Ajalia said, "before I figured out that he didn't care about me." Ajalia scraped the knife along the coarse yellow meat of the tubers, and peeled away the heavy brown skin.

  "And what did Delmar say, when he found out?" Fashel asked in a strained voice. The young woman wandered back to her dough, and began, listlessly, to pound it against the table. The sounds of her fists in the dough made a rhythmic thumping in the comfortable kitchen.

  The kitchen was quite a different place now than it had been when Ajalia had helped to clean it; two small fires crackled busily on the hearth, and the walls were white and clean of dust and dirt. Steam, bits of coarse flour, and delicious smells filled up the air in the kitchen, and the two large windows let in a crisp trickle of air. Ajalia thought of the many clear black stones that must be packed in the ground outside the city walls right now. A part of her wanted to go out to the place where Bain had died, to make sure that what she had envisioned had really happened. The stones, she thought, would be proof that the worm had died, and that she had not somehow imagined the encounter.

  "Delmar told me what Philas was doing," Ajalia said. "He was angry at Philas, and annoyed."