The Magic War (The Eastern Slave Series Book 5)

by Victor Poole

  "The money you will pay Fashel," Isacar said.

  "I have not paid any money to Fashel," Ajalia said. "I have given her the funds to purchase food, and she has used them better than any other servant I have been able to find."

  "Oh," Isacar said, his forehead wrinkling. "So you aren't paying her yet?"

  "No," Ajalia said. "I have given her means to purchase food, and to outfit my kitchen. This is a task that needed to be accomplished," she said casually, and she saw that Isacar was beginning to calm down.

  "But won't you have to pay her?" Isacar asked cautiously. "Not that it's any of my business," he added rapidly.

  "If I keep her, I suppose Fashel and I will negotiate a price for her services as cook," Ajalia agreed. Isacar now looked completely deflated.

  "I thought I'd gotten you entangled," the young man admitted. "I thought if I didn't want to marry her after all, you'd lose your temper, and fire me."

  "You are not being fired," Ajalia told Isacar. "I would like to tell you what I want you to do about Fashel."

  "What?" Isacar asked eagerly. Ajalia could see that Isacar wanted desperately to know what she wanted; she saw that he would do anything to keep her happy, but that he did not know what to do for her. She saw that he liked working for her, and that he had never worked for an honest person before. She saw that he was afraid of being gotten rid of if he made any mistakes as he attempted to read her mind.

  "I want you to tell Fashel that you've decided not to marry her," Ajalia said. "I would like you to use a very calm voice, and to disengage any argument she may try to start. Just tell you you've decided not to marry, and then leave the kitchen. Go and do that now, and then I will tell you the rest of what I want."

  Isacar was off like a shot; he vanished at once, and Ajalia folded her arms, and looked up at the flying bodies that hovered at the front end of the hall. She wondered if Leed had found some way to find out what magic was done in all the city; she wondered if Leed had turned off the glowing light within Simon's house. Since Leed, apparently, had become aware of the heap of clear stones that formed the remains of the black worm, Ajalia suspected that the boy was developing along lines similar to those she was following. Ajalia wondered if Delmar would prove to have strange new powers, after he had read the two slim leather books. Since Leed had not read the other one, the new one that Tree had hidden, and that Coren had stolen, Ajalia suspected that this would be the case. She thought it was fitting that Delmar, as the new Thief Lord, should reveal some previously-unknown magical powers to the growing body of those who could work magic.

  Ajalia thought about the rest of the city. She had not gone out of the house for a little while now, and she wondered what the rest of the city was up to. She had heard Isacar say that Delmar had gone out on business most of this day; she wondered if he had met with many of the merchants, or the powerful men who managed many of the profitable interests in the city. She reminded herself to ask Delmar about relations with Saroyan. She had never heard of any kind of ambassadors before, though, she thought, if Philas and Leed were going to overtake the political structure in that land, ambassadors would be something of a secondary consideration.

  She formed a picture in her mind of Fashel falling slowly in love with Philas, and of Philas turning out to be quite a nice man, after all. She imagined Philas carrying Fashel off in a whirl of promises and flattery, and then she imagined Fashel living as queen in some forbidding palace. Ajalia sighed; she did not want to lose her cook, even if Philas did love her. Ajalia thought that Philas had looked genuinely smitten, though, she told herself, this could have been some after effect of the strong magic Philas had undergone recently. Perhaps, Ajalia thought, being filled up with magic made people more likely to fall in love.

  Isacar appeared at her elbow; his face was flushed with triumph, and his eyes were wide.

  "I did it," Isacar said in a whisper. "I went in, and I told her that I don't want to marry her."

  "What did Fashel have to say?" Ajalia asked. Isacar's eyes widened even farther.

  "She started crying again!" Isacar confided, as though Fashel had done some frightening thing. "I was not sure what to do then," Isacar went on, "because I thought she was going to shout at me, but then I just said that I was sorry, but that I was pretty sure about it, and then I went away." Ajalia nodded.

  "Stay here for a moment, please," Ajalia told Isacar, and she went towards the kitchen. When she went into the short hall that led to the kitchen doorway, she glanced back. Isacar was bouncing up and down on his heels, looking like a young man who has just fought a great battle with a monster, and who has narrowly avoided death. Ajalia went into the kitchen. She found Fashel draped over a counter, her face in her hands. Ragged sobs were wracking the young woman's body, and her shoulders were heaving convulsively. Ajalia waited for a few moments. Fashel drew a ragged breath, and shoved back her hair, and when she did so, she saw Ajalia. Fashel stood bolt upright, and scrubbed frantically at her face.

  "Dinner is almost ready," Fashel said, trying to suppress the shivers that were still bursting up through her tears. Fashel breathed in again, trying to still herself, and blinked hard. "I'm not crying," Fashel added.

  "I want you to be my cook," Ajalia told her. "I will pay you quite well. How much do you want me to pay you?" she asked. Fashel stared at her. Fashel's mouth was agape.

  "I have to go home," Fashel said hoarsely. "I'm not going to marry Isacar anymore. I don't want to marry him," she added violently. She drew in a great breath. "So I can't live here anymore. I'll have to go. I'm sorry."

  "I don't want you to marry Isacar," Ajalia said. "I'd rather you just worked for me as a cook."

  Fashel stared at Ajalia. The young woman looked as though she now suspected Ajalia of being a little insane.

  "I can't work here anymore," Fashel said clearly, raising her voice a little. "I'm not going to marry Isacar now. We're not getting married."

  "Would you be more comfortable if I kicked Isacar out of my house?" Ajalia asked. "He doesn't have to stay here. I have another house down the street, or he could go and live with my cleaning crews."

  Fashel's mouth dropped open.

  "You only hired me out of charity," Fashel said.

  "Well, I didn't know you could cook like that," Ajalia said easily. "Now I want you here more than I want Isacar here. I'm not willing to fire Isacar," Ajalia added, "and you'll probably still have to see him sometimes, but I'll kick him out of the house, if you like."

  "But why would you do that?" Fashel demanded. "He was here first."

  "Yes, but you cook like a god," Ajalia explained. "You can never, ever work anywhere else. I must have your food all the time. And I need you to cook when I have important guests," Ajalia added, "but mostly I just want to eat your food myself. I think I would never eat again, if you left me."

  Fashel looked at Ajalia with a stunned expression on her face.

  "You would choose me over Isacar?" Fashel asked in a strangled voice.

  "Yes, absolutely," Ajalia said. "How much money do you want?" Fashel blinked rapidly. She breathed in again. She blinked several times, and she put one hand to her hair.

  "Um," Fashel said. She looked embarrassed. "I probably don't need very much."

  "I think Philas is going to ask you to marry him," Ajalia added with a frown. "Please tell him no. I want your food." Fashel's face, which had already gone through a revolution of emotions, now turned a little pale.

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

  "Philas has been a senior slave in my master's house for many years," Ajalia told Fashel. "I am my master's favorite slave, but Philas is my master's third favorite. Do you know what I mean by that?" Ajalia asked in a friendly voice. Fashel shook her head noiselessly. "It means," Ajalia said, "that when my master wants something, he tells me, and if he wants it done quickly, he asks Philas. My master does not like to wear me out," Ajalia explained. "He saves me up for very large missions. Now do you know what I mean?" Again,
Fashel shook her head.

  Ajalia hoisted herself onto the counter, and clasped her hands together.

  "Do you know that I come from the East, and that I am a slave?" Ajalia asked Fashel. Fashel nodded. "Do you know that Philas also comes from there, and is a member of my master's house?" Fashel, slowly, nodded.

  "I hadn't thought of it much," Fashel said, "but yes, I knew he was a slave."

  "My master is the leading man in the East," Ajalia explained. "If we followed the old ways there, he would be the king." Ajalia looked at Fashel, who was listening hard. "So like your Thief Lord here," Ajalia said, "but much more powerful, and much more wealthy, and in charge of a whole host of other Thief Lords, who reign over their own lands." Fashel listened to this, and then she nodded. "When I travel," Ajalia said, "I pretend to be my master. I have a beard, and I carry a set of his robes. Philas has them now," Ajalia said, "because I wanted to make Delmar the Thief Lord."

  "You can't make someone the Thief Lord," Fashel said at once.

  "I did," Ajalia said. "My master sent me here do to something of the kind."

  "He can't do things like that!" Fashel said, sounding slightly indignant.

  "Why not?" Ajalia asked.

  "Because," Fashel said, "he's from somewhere else. That isn't fair."

  "Do you know that Simon, Delmar's father, came from Talbos?" Ajalia asked. Fashel's eyes darkened, and her mouth puckered.

  "That wasn't fair either," Fashel said.

  "And do you know," Ajalia said carefully, "that Philas comes originally from Saroyan?" Fashel looked with interest at Ajalia. Ajalia thought she could see the young woman weighing what she had said.

  "No," Fashel said. "I thought you said he was from the East."

  "I was not born in the East," Ajalia said. "Neither was Philas." She paused for a moment, watching Fashel think over this, and then continued. "So I am my master's favorite," Ajalia said, "and Philas is third favorite."

  "What does it matter if he's third?" Fashel asked.

  "It means," Ajalia said, "that Philas is exceptionally good at getting things that he wants." Fashel had gone very still; Ajalia thought now that the girl had an idea of where she was going with this.

  "Yes?" Fashel asked.

  "And it seems to me," Ajalia said, "that Philas has decided that he wants you." Fashel blushed crimson.

  "If he is as important as you say he is," Fashel said, "he will not want me at all."

  "He's going to be the king of Saroyan soon," Ajalia said. Fashel thought about this for a moment, and then she laughed.

  "There is already a king in Saroyan," Fashel said easily, "and no one here can do anything about things there, anyway."

  "Philas is the lost prince," Ajalia said. "He's the bastard prince who was sent away. And now he can do some magic. Leed is going to go over there with him, and manage things."

  Fashel's face grew very sober.

  "I can't marry Philas," Fashel said seriously. "That is too much of everything for me."

  "If Philas wants you," Ajalia said, "you are going to have to think very seriously about whether or not you want Philas."

  "Why?" Fashel asked suspiciously.

  "Because Philas is very good at getting everything that he wants," Ajalia said.

  "Wait," Fashel said, and Ajalia saw that the girl was trying to shut out what she had heard. Ajalia could see a great wave of consuming emotions filling up the girl, and swirling to and fro around her head. Fashel was deeply flattered, Ajalia thought, but she also thought the young woman did not believe what she said, and she saw that Fashel was frightened. "But if you and Philas are slaves," Fashel said, "he can't do anything your master doesn't like."

  "Do you think my master would want an obscure slave," Ajalia asked, "or would he like to have a very personal relationship with the king of Saroyan?"

  Fashel's face screwed up.

  "Well," Fashel said sourly. "I don't think that's fair." Ajalia shrugged. "It isn't fair!" Fashel said. "Why should he like me?"

  "Because you're wonderful," Ajalia said. Fashel turned bright red.

  "I am not wonderful," Fashel said firmly.

  "Yes, you are," Ajalia said.

  "I am not!" Fashel said. Tears were starting up into the girl's eyes, and her lower lip was trembling. "You didn't think I was wonderful when I first came to meet you!" Fashel argued, wetness gathering in her eyes.

  "Yes, but then I got to know you a little more," Ajalia pointed out. "And," she added, "I had not tried any of your food. I don't know how anyone could not love you, after eating your food."

  Fashel burst into loud sobs. She lifted up her apron, and buried her face in the cloth. "I will say two more things," Ajalia said, "and I will leave you in peace."

  Fashel snuffled, her face covered in her apron. Ajalia saw the girl nod, to show that she was listening.

  THE

  SUCCESSION IN TALBOS

  "Philas is not his real name," Ajalia said. "He refuses to tell me his real name. If you want to know if he is sincere about loving you, ask him what his real name is, and don't let him talk his way out of it. If he tells you his real name," Ajalia said, "then I think he really does love you. And the second thing," Ajalia said, "is that if you do decide to love Philas, and marry him, I command you to train a replacement cook in all of your methods. If you do not do this before you leave me," Ajalia said, "I will declare war on Philas for you. And you should know," Ajalia added, "that I am even better at getting what I want than Philas is. Is that something you can agree to?" Fashel, who had become gradually interested in what Ajalia said, and had appeared, by increments, from behind the apron, now let it fall down around her waist.

  "Find out his real name," Fashel repeated, like a child giving the answers in school, "and if he tells me what it is, maybe he does love me. And if I decide to love him," she added, her cheeks going crimson again, "then I have to teach Ossa how to cook decent food."

  "Not just decent," Ajalia warned. "Very, very close to as good as yours."

  Fashel's lips twisted to one side, and Ajalia saw that she was thinking about this.

  "I'll have to start on her right now," Fashel said. She looked at Ajalia with hard eyes. "I don't think Ossa will learn very quickly."

  "Good," Ajalia said.

  "Have her sent down to me," Fashel said, frowning. She turned towards her rising dough, and then paused. "And I don't care if Isacar stays," she added. Fashel went slowly to the dough, and punched it down. "And I don't know how much money I want," Fashel added suddenly. "I want to think about it. Don't push me for a number, all right?"

  "Anything you want," Ajalia said.

  She went softly to the kitchen door, and then looked back at Fashel, who was slowly shaping the soft dough into narrow loaves. Ajalia smiled, and went out into the hall where Isacar waited.

  "There are no problems," Ajalia told Isacar. "Here are my conditions for you staying." Isacar's eyes widened.

  "I thought I was staying already," Isacar said, looking a little put out.

  "If you upset my cook," Ajalia told him, "I will put you out into another house. You will work for me, but I will not have you doing anything to hurt Fashel's feelings." Isacar's mouth pursed up, but he nodded.

  "All right," he said. Ajalia thought that Isacar looked as though he felt very put upon. "What are the conditions?" he asked. Ajalia was sure that Isacar would never have been so blunt or honest with Tree, but she preferred her people to be honest. When they were broken in, she thought, as her house boys were, they were exceedingly useful, and they did not hold back interesting information out of a sense of displaced discretion.

  "Never again say a word, to any person in this house or out of it, about Fashel's cooking. Not even to compliment it," Ajalia said. "It is too late for you. No matter what you say, she will hear disparagement, and she will cry, and I want a peaceful kitchen."

  Isacar's lips worked violently from side to side, as though he were restraining himself from commending acidly on Fashel's o
versensitive feelings, but he nodded.

  "I will never say anything at all about Fashel's food that she makes," Isacar said.

  "And," Ajalia added, "if you are not capable of sitting and eating with a totally neutral expression on your face, you will find food somewhere else." Isacar's jaw muscles twitched.

  "All right," he said.

  "Good," Ajalia said. "Now, is there anything going on that I should know about?" Isacar looked relieved to have moved on from the talk of his relations with his former flame.

  "Cross and Daniel are recruiting boys from around the city, and from the quarries," Isacar said. "They have squads of the house boys moving through the city, and disabling any witches that they find."

  "How are they doing that?" Ajalia asked. She was impressed, but hid her surprise. Isacar was watching her narrowly.

  "Leed told them how," Isacar said.

  "Yes, but how did Leed tell them to do it?" Ajalia asked patiently. Isacar took a deep breath, and told her of the method Leed had taught, which was very like what Ajalia did herself, of taking a piece of light from the earth, and then looking for the ugly black cord that came out of the witches' hearts. "What about witches like Ossa, or Esther?" Ajalia asked. Philas came out of one of the rooms down off the middle of the hall, and came slowly towards them. Isacar saw the slave approaching, and Ajalia saw that Isacar was containing himself fairly well. A slight throb appeared in Isacar's temple, but Ajalia only saw it because she was watching for it.

  "Leed says that those witches will show up in the second purge," Isacar said, his eyes fixed on Philas's approaching form. Isacar turned to Ajalia. "Leed says this is the first purge, to find the evil ones, and cut off their power."

  "Good," Ajalia said.

  "I am going now with Leed to break in the new boys, the boys from the city," Isacar explained. "Chad is coming, as well. They're waiting for me," Isacar added, his eyes going to the boys, and Chad, who were still hovering high in the air, and talking. "We are hoping to convince Delmar to make some kind of edict," Isacar said, "about the training of new boys. We want to get all the boys we can."