Fire Study - Study 03 s-4

by Мария Снайдер

  Their scorn was nothing in comparison to Roze’s fury when I entered the Masters’ meeting room. I braced myself for her outburst, but Irys jumped from her seat at the long table and explained why I had come.

  “…note from a Sandseed Story Weaver,” Irys said. “He may have located Ferde and Cahil.”

  The corners of Roze’s mouth pulled down with disdain. “Impossible. Crossing the Avibian Plains to return to his clan in the Daviian Plateau would be suicide. And it’s too obvious. Cahil is probably taking Ferde to either the Stormdance or the Bloodgood lands. Cahil has many supporters there.”

  Roze had been Cahil’s champion in the Council. Cahil had been raised by soldiers who had fled the takeover in Ixia. They convinced Cahil that he was the nephew of the dead King of Ixia and should inherit the throne. He had worked hard to gain supporters and attempted to build an army to defeat the Commander of Ixia. However, once he discovered he was really born to a common soldier, he rescued Ferde and disappeared.

  Roze had encouraged Cahil. They held the same belief that it was just a matter of time before Commander Ambrose set his sights on conquering Sitia.

  “Cahil could bypass the plains to get to the plateau,” Zitora Cowan, Third Magician, offered. Her honey-brown eyes held concern, but as the youngest of the four Master Magicians her suggestions tended to be ignored by the others.

  “Then how would this Moon Man know? The Sandseeds don’t venture out of the plains unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Roze said.

  “That’s what they want us to believe,” Irys said. “I wouldn’t put it past them to have a few scouts around.”

  “Either way,” Bain Bloodgood, Second Magician, said, “we must consider all options. Obvious or not, someone needs to confirm that Cahil and Ferde are not in the plateau.” With his white hair and flowing robes, Bain’s appearance matched what I had assumed to be a traditional magician’s uniform. Wisdom radiated from his wrinkled face.

  “I’m going,” I declared.

  “We should send soldiers with her,” Zitora said.

  “Leif should go,” Bain added. “As cousins of the Sandseed, Yelena and Leif will be welcomed in the plains.”

  Roze ran her slender fingers along the short white strands of her hair and frowned, appearing to be deep in thought. With the colder temperatures, Roze had stopped wearing the sleeveless dresses she preferred and exchanged them for long-sleeved gowns. The deep navy hue of the garment absorbed the light and almost matched her dark skin. Moon Man had the same skin tone, and I wondered what color his hair would be if he hadn’t shaved it off.

  “I’m not sending anyone,” Roze finally said. “It’s a waste of time and resources.”

  “I’m going. I don’t need your permission.” I stood, preparing to leave.

  “You need my permission to exit the Keep,” Roze said. “This is my domain. I’m in charge of all magicians, including you, Soulfinder.” Her hands smacked her chair’s arms. “If I had control of the Council, you would be taken to the Keep’s cells to await execution. No good has ever come from a Soulfinder.”

  The other Masters gaped at Roze in shock. She remained incensed. “Just look at our history. Every Soulfinder has craved power. Magical power. Political power. Power over people’s souls. Yelena will be no different. Sure now she plays at being a Liaison and has agreed to my training. It’s only a matter of time. Already…” Roze gestured to the doorway. “Already she wants to run off before I can begin lesson one.”

  Her words echoed through the stunned silence. Roze glanced around at their horrified expressions and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown. Her dislike of me was well-known, but this time she had gone too far.

  “Roze, that was quite—”

  She raised her hand, stopping Bain from the rest of his lecture. “You know the history. You have been warned many, many times, so I will say no more about it.” She rose from her seat. Towering a good seven inches above me, she peered down. “Go, then. Take Leif with you. Consider it your first lesson. A lesson in futility. When you return, you’ll be mine.”

  Roze made to leave, but I caught a thread of her thoughts in my mind.

  … should keep her occupied and out of my way.

  Roze paused before she exited. Looking over her shoulder, she gave me a pointed stare. Keep out of Sitia’s affairs. And you might be the only Soulfinder in history to live past the age of twenty-five.

  Go take another look at your history books, Roze, I said. The demise of a Soulfinder is always reported along with the death of a Master Magician.

  Roze ignored me as she left the meeting room, ending the session.

  I went to find Leif. His quarters were near the apprentice’s wing on the east side of the Keep’s campus. He lived in the Magician’s building, which housed those who had graduated from the Keep and were now either teaching new students or working as aides to the Master Magicians.

  The rest of the magicians who had also completed the curriculum were assigned to different towns to serve the citizens of Sitia. The Council tried to have a healer in every town, but the magicians with rare powers—like the ability to read ancient languages or find lost items—moved from place to place as needed.

  Magicians with strong powers took the Master-level test before leaving the Keep. In the past twenty years, only Zitora had passed, bringing the number of Masters to four. In Sitia’s history, there never had been more than four Masters at one time.

  Irys thought a Soulfinder could be strong enough to take the Master’s test. I disagreed. They already had the maximum, and I lacked the basic magical skills of lighting fires and moving objects—skills all the Masters possessed.

  Besides, being a Soulfinder was bad enough, having to endure and fail the Master test would be too much to bear. Or so I guessed. The rumors about the test sounded horrific.

  Before I even reached Leif’s door, it swung open and my brother stuck his head out. The rain soaked his short black hair in an instant. I shooed him back as I hurried into his living room, dripping muddy slush onto his clean floor.

  His apartment was tidy and sparsely furnished. The only hint of his personality could be gleaned from the few paintings that decorated the room. A detailed rendering of a rare Ylang-Ylang flower indigenous to the Illiais Jungle, a painting of a strangler fig suffocating a dying mahogany tree and a picture of a tree leopard crouched on a branch hung on his walls.

  Leif scanned my bedraggled appearance with resignation. His jade-colored eyes were the only feature that matched my own. His stocky body and square jaw were the complete opposite of my oval face and thin build.

  “It can’t be good news,” Leif said. “I’d doubt you would brave the weather just to say hello.”

  “You opened the door before I could knock,” I said. “You must know something’s up.”

  Leif wiped the rain from his face. “I smelled you coming.”

  “Smelled?”

  “You reek of Lavender. Do you bathe in Mother’s perfume or just wash your cloak with it?” he teased.

  “How mundane. I was thinking of something a little more magical.”

  “Why waste the energy on using magic when you don’t have to? Although…”

  Leif’s eyes grew distant and I felt the slight tingle of power being pulled.

  “Apprehension. Excitement. Annoyance. Anger,” Leif said. “I take it the Council hasn’t voted to make you Queen of Sitia yet?”

  When I didn’t answer, he said, “Don’t worry, little sister, you’re still the princess of our family. We both know Mother and Father love you best.”

  His words held an edge, and I remembered it hadn’t been long since he had wanted to see me dead.

  “Esau and Perl love us equally. You really do need me around to correct your misconceptions. I’ve proved you wrong before. I can do it again.”

  Leif put his hands on his hips and raised one dubious eyebrow.

  “You said I was afraid to come back to the Keep. Well—” I spread my arms wide, fl
inging drops of water onto Leif’s green tunic “—here I am.”

  “You are here. I’ll grant you that. But are you unafraid?”

  “I already have a mother and a Story Weaver. Your job is to be the annoying older brother. Stick to what you know.”

  “Ohhh. I’ve hit a nerve.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you. Here.” I pulled Moon Man’s note from my cloak’s pocket and handed it to him.

  He unfolded the damp paper, scanning the message. “Ferde,” he said, coming to the same conclusion. “Have you told the Council?”

  “No. The Masters know.” I filled Leif in on what had happened in the meeting room, omitting my “exchange” with Roze Featherstone.

  Leif’s wide shoulders drooped. After a long moment, he said, “Master Featherstone doesn’t believe Ferde and Cahil are going to the Daviian Plateau. She doesn’t trust me anymore.”

  “You don’t know that for—”

  “She thinks Cahil is headed in another direction. Normally she would send me to determine his location and send for her. Together, we would confront him. Now I get assigned the wild-valmur chase.”

  “Valmur?” It took me a moment to connect the name with the small, long-tailed creature that lived in the jungle.

  “Remember? We used to chase them through the trees. They were so fast and quick, we never caught one. But sit down and hold a piece of sap candy and they’ll jump right into your lap and follow you around all day.”

  When I failed to respond, Leif cringed with guilt. “That must have been after…

  After I had been kidnapped and taken to Ixia. Although I could imagine a young Leif scampering through the jungle’s canopy after a fleet-footed valmur.

  The Zaltana Clan’s homestead had been built high in the tree branches, and my father had joked that the children learned to climb before they could walk.

  “Roze could be wrong about Cahil’s intentions. So pack some of that sap candy. We might need it,” I said.

  Leif shivered. “At least it will be warmer in the plains, and the plateau is farther south.”

  I left Leif’s quarters, heading to my tower to pack some supplies. The sleet blew sideways and tiny daggers of ice stung my face as I hurried through the storm. Irys was waiting for me in the receiving room just past the oversize tower entrance. The flames in the hearth pulsed with the rush of cold air slipping around the doors as I fought to close them against the wind.

  I hustled to the fire and held my hands out. The prospect of traveling in such weather was unappealing.

  “Does Leif know how to light fires?” I asked Irys.

  “I think so. But no matter how skilled he is, wet wood won’t ignite.”

  “Great,” I muttered. Steam floated from my soaked cloak. I draped the soggy garment around a chair then dragged it closer to the fire.

  “When are you leaving?” Irys asked.

  “Right away.” My stomach grumbled and I realized I had missed lunch. I sighed, knowing dinner would probably be a cold slice of cheese and mushy bread.

  “I’m meeting Leif in the barn. Oh snake spit!” I remembered a couple of commitments.

  “Irys, can you tell Gelsi and Dax I’ll start their training when I get back?”

  “What training? Not magic—”

  “No, no. Self-defense training.” I pointed to my bow. The five-foot-long staff of ebony wood was still threaded through its holder on my backpack. Drops of water beaded and gleamed on the weapon.

  I pulled it free, feeling the solid weight of the staff in my hands. Underneath the ebony surface of the bow was a gold-colored wood. Pictures of me as a child, of the jungle, my family, and so on had been etched into the wood. Even Kiki’s loving eyes had been included in the story of my life. The bow moved smoothly in my hands. A gift from a master crafts-woman of the Sandseed Clan who had also raised Kiki.

  “And Bain knows that you won’t be at his morning lesson,” Irys said. “But he said—”

  “Don’t tell me he assigned homework,” I pleaded. Just thinking about lugging the heavy history tome made my back hurt.

  Irys smiled. “He said that he would help you catch up on your studies when you return.”

  Relieved, I picked up my pack, sorting the contents to see what other supplies we would need.

  “Anything else?” Irys asked.

  “No. What are you going to tell the Council?” I asked.

  “That Roze has assigned you to learn about your magic from the Story Weavers. The first documented Soulfinder in Sitia was a Sandseed. Did you know that?”

  “No.” I was surprised but shouldn’t have been. After all, what I knew about Soulfinders wouldn’t fill a page in one of Master Bain’s history books.

  When I finished packing, I said goodbye to Irys and muscled my way through the wind to the dining hall. The kitchen staff always had a supply of travel rations on hand for the magicians. I grabbed enough food to last us a week.

  As I drew closer to the stables, I could see a few brave horse heads poking out of their stalls. Kiki’s copper-and-white face was unmistakable even in the murky half-light.

  She nickered in greeting and I opened my mind to her.

  We go? she asked.

  Yes. I’m sorry to take you out on such a horrible day, I said.

  Not bad with Lavender Lady.

  Lavender Lady was the name the horses had given me. They named the people around them just like we would name a pet. I had to smile, though, remembering Leif’s comment about my bathing in the pungent herb.

  Lavender smell like… Kiki didn’t have the words to describe her emotions. A mental image of a bushy blue-gray lavender plant with its long purple cluster of flowers formed in Kiki’s mind. Feelings of contentment and security accompanied the image.

  The main corridor of the stable echoed as if empty despite the pile of feed bags nearby. The thick supporting beams of the building stood like soldiers between the stalls and the end of the row disappeared into the gloom.

  Leif? I asked Kiki.

  Sad Man in tack room, Kiki said.

  Thanks. I ambled toward the back of the barn, inhaling the familiar aroma of leather and saddle soap. The dry smell of straw scratched my throat and clung to the earthy scent of manure.

  Tracker, too.

  Who?

  But before Kiki could answer I spotted Captain Marrok in the tack room with Leif. The sharp tip of Marrok’s sword was aimed at Leif’s chest.

  CHAPTER 3

  “STAY BACK, YELENA,” Marrok ordered. “Answer me, Leif.”

  Leif s face had paled, but his jaw was set in a stubborn line. His gaze met mine, questioning.

  “What do you want, Marrok?” I asked.

  The bruises on Marrok’s face had faded, but his right eye was still puffy and raw despite Healer Hayes’s efforts to repair his broken cheekbone.

  “I want to find Cahil,” Marrok said.

  “We all want to find him. Why are you threatening my brother?” I used a stern tone to remind Marrok that he now dealt with me. Having an infamous reputation had a few advantages.

  Marrok looked at me. “He works with First Magician. She’s in charge of the search. If she has any clue as to where to find Cahil, she’ll send Leif.” He gestured to the bridles in Leif’s hands. “On a day like today, he’s not going to the market or out for a pleasure ride. But he won’t tell me where he’s going.”

  It continued to amaze me just how fast news and gossip traveled through the Keep’s guards.

  “Did you ask him before or after you pulled your sword?”

  The tip of Marrok’s blade wavered. “Why does it matter?” he asked.

  “Because most people are more willing to cooperate if they don’t have a weapon pointed at their chest.” Realizing that Marrok was a career soldier who did most of his talking with his sword, I switched tactics.

  “Why didn’t you plan to follow Leif?” Marrok’s tracking abilities had impressed the horses so much that they had given him the name Tr
acker.

  Marrok touched his cheek and winced. I could guess his thoughts. Marrok had followed Cahil with the utmost loyalty, but Cahil had beaten and tortured him to find out the truth about his common heritage, leaving Marrok for dead.

  The soldier sheathed his sword in one quick motion as if he had made a decision. “I can’t follow Leif. He would sense me with his magic and confuse my mind.”

  “I can’t do that,” Leif said.

  “Truly?” Marrok rested his hand near his sword, considering.

  “But I can,” I said.

  Marrok’s attention snapped back to me.

  “Marrok, you’re hardly fit for travel. And I can’t let you kill Cahil. The Sitian Council wants to talk to him first.” I wanted to talk to him.

  “I don’t seek revenge,” Marrok said.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “To help.” Marrok gripped the hilt of his weapon.

  “What?” Leif and I said at the same time.

  “Sitia needs Cahil. Only the Council and the Masters know he doesn’t have royal blood. Ixia is a real threat to Sitia’s way of life. Sitia needs a figurehead to rally behind. Someone to lead them into battle.”

  “But he aided in Ferde’s escape,” I said. “And Ferde could be torturing and raping another girl as we speak!”

  “Cahil was just confused and overwhelmed by learning the truth of his birth. I raised him. I know him better than anyone. He probably already regrets his rashness. Ferde is most likely dead. If I get a chance to talk to Cahil, I’m positive he would come back without a fight, and we can work this out with the Council.”

  Power brushed me.

  “He’s sincere about his intentions,” Leif said.

  But what about Cahil’s intentions? I had seen him be ruthless and opportunistic in his quest to build an army, but never rash. However, I had only known him for two seasons. I considered using magic to see Marrok’s memories of Cahil, but that would be a breach in the magician’s Ethical Code unless he gave me his consent. So I asked for it.