by Beth Alvarez
12
Departure
Master Nondar sighed and pushed a book back into place with a fingertip. Shelves lined his office, overflowing with books, papers, and scrolls, but he managed to keep it organized. Sometimes it was all he could do. He didn’t like to think about age catching up with him, but his half-blood heritage worked ever more to his detriment.
He’d never quite understood what made him different. The magic that extended the Eldani’s lifespans was used unconsciously, utilizing the energies of everything around them without the individual even being aware they were doing it. But not all Gifts could be trained or taught. While Nondar had outlived his human relatives by more decades than he could recall, he knew his time would soon be up.
Sometimes he regretted the choice to pursue his craft, to live at the temple. He was the only half-blood to wear the white in the history of Elenhiise’s mages—which was surely something to be proud of—but he left behind no family, no children. Looking back, he wondered at the decision of parting ways with his last lover. He would have married her if he’d stopped to think how lonely the end would be.
Nondar rubbed the gnarled joints in his fingers, looking out the open doorway and into the night. He couldn’t see the ruins through the predawn fog, but that didn’t keep him from absently gazing toward them.
He’d grown more aware of the discomfort of being alone in recent years. Perhaps that was why he’d always felt a fatherly inclination toward Firal. He knew he’d coddled her when he shouldn’t have, spent too much time spinning tales of how great a mage her mother had been when the temple was founded. Perhaps if he’d not shared the knowledge of her mother’s career, the girl might have pursued her own passions instead of chasing her mother’s legacy.
Kytenia’s news of Firal’s disappearance had been troubling enough before she’d mentioned Ran. That boy had been a thorn in everyone’s sides since the day he was brought into the world. Nondar couldn’t say he genuinely disliked anyone, but he had no love for that bothersome child.
It was ironic, perhaps, that the two had always gravitated together. The daughter of the royal family’s greatest court mage, and the king’s adopted son. They were terribly mismatched and well-suited at the same time, two endings to the same sad story. And his involvement in those tales was yet another reason to regret becoming a founding mage of Kirban.
If nothing else, had he not pursued the white, his life would have been simpler.
As Master of the House of Healing, Firal’s affinity fell within his jurisdiction, and that made the girl his responsibility. Nondar had a suspicion about where he would find her, but he had not yet decided how to manage the situation. He’d always been aware of Firal’s fondness for the ruins just beyond the temple grounds, but she had never ventured far or seemed likely to get herself in trouble. No doubt she wouldn’t have, if Ran were not with her.
With a measure of reluctance, Nondar pulled himself out of his reverie, took his cane from where it leaned against his desk, and leveraged himself from his chair. No matter how his joints protested, he was expected in the Archmage’s tower. The summons had come some time ago, and he could not afford to wait and deliberate in his office any longer. As it was, his hesitance to respond could draw questions. The ache in his knees and back made up his mind. He could not retrieve the girl himself, but Firal would have to be disciplined when she returned.
The courtyard beyond Nondar’s office was noisy, even at night. Horses stamped and whuffed as their handlers moved them through the courtyard. Stabling one or two animals was reasonable, but the teams for the dozens of carriages that had arrived? That was out of the question. Instead, the drivers unhitched their teams in the field between the temple and ruin. A few at a time, the horses passed through the courtyard to be brushed and watered by the well in the stable yard where the temple’s few animals were kept.
None of the horsemen paid the old Master mind as he worked his way toward the tower. The few who paused to look at him hurried on their way when they saw his limping gait. Brant forbid they help an old man, Nondar thought, surprised at his own bitterness. In sullen silence, he ventured up.
When he finally reached the top of the stairs, the door to the Archmage’s office was open in some semblance of welcome. He recognized the other Masters around the council’s table, though he was none too happy about the company.
Melora, with her sharp features and sharper tongue, sat licking her lips as though she expected a feast. Of all his peers, he liked the Master of the House of Wind the least. He tried not to look at her and skimmed the other faces instead. Anaide, Master of Water, and Edagan, Master of Earth, sat sneering and whispering between themselves as they watched him, as though their finely pointed ears meant they were not just as withered with age as he. They had been old even before the temple’s founding. And Alira, her hair only just beginning to bleach, wore an expression that made it clear she thought she held every bit as much weight in the temple’s council as the Archmage herself, despite the fact she’d taken control of the House of Fire scant decades ago. There were few male Masters stationed within the temple, and Nondar was not surprised to see he was the only one who had been summoned.
“How good of you to finally join us,” Envesi said, the twitch of her stern mouth betraying her impatience.
“My apologies for the delay,” Nondar replied, though his voice held no apology at all. “Perhaps next time, if you wish me here faster, you could ask the page to help me along. I cannot walk as I used to.”
The other Masters waited in uncomfortable silence as Nondar settled in one of the many empty seats. Once he leaned his cane against the table’s edge, the Archmage spoke.
“I’ve already spoken with most of the others, so these meetings shall not have to run all through the night. I trust all of you are prepared to travel in the morning?” Envesi barely paused, not seeming to care whether or not they answered. “Much of the temple staff has already departed on leave, so you will not have their assistance in the morning. I have arranged for every carriage to contain at least one Master alongside the magelings, to be sure none of them get out of hand.”
“A wise choice, my lady.” Anaide dipped her head in reverence.
Melora shifted, irritable already. “With all due respect, Archmage, I did not expect the five of us would be called to discuss travel arrangements. If this is all there is to speak of, I request permission to leave.”
Envesi’s resolute expression did not waver. “I trust the matter of affinities does not escape your notice, Melora?”
If it had, there was no missing it now. Nondar glanced at the gathered faces a second time. He had noticed, but hoped his assumptions wrong. Affinities were divided into many specialties, but only five warranted the title of House. The rest were best described as subsections of each major affinity, falling within its ruling House’s jurisdiction. Each of the four women—Alira, Edagan, Melora, and Anaide—represented a House of element, while he represented the House of Healing.
To have called a Master to speak for each of the five major affinities meant nothing good.
“Out with it, Archmage, we’re not daft.” Edagan gave Nondar a sidewise look as she spoke, as if to imply she did not include him in the statement. He raised one bushy white brow in return.
Envesi motioned for silence. “When the caravan returns from Ilmenhith, I expect each of you to choose a mage from your House to promote and send to the palace as a new court mage. I have already promoted Lomithrandel to Master. He is ready to be sent.” There was no preamble to soften the blow, no tip-toeing around the subject. Only Alira did not seem surprised. Envesi took in the shocked expressions the rest of them wore with smug satisfaction.
“How could you do such a thing?” Anaide slapped her hands against the tabletop as she leaped from her chair. “He is a royal, blood or not! He has no place as a Master. It’s a breach of honor to bestow such rank to someone who cannot rightfully bear it. The temple has supported and been sponsored
by the royal family for...forever! For as long as the temple has stood. How dare you put our king in such a position?”
“And why should Kirban remain loyal to a crown that will soon be up for grabs?” Alira snapped. “Kifel has no heir, and no immediate relatives remaining. The royal line dies with him.”
“King Kifel has no named heirs.” Nondar kept his tone level, though he wished to reach across the table and throttle the girl. Alira was but a fraction of Anaide’s age. Whether or not she wore Master white, seniority should have demanded respect.
“You believe he would name Lomithrandel his heir, were he not a Master?” Melora broke in, giving Nondar a skeptical glare. “The royal family has enough scandal behind it as it is, without the next ruler spending his time on the throne trying to—”
“That is enough!” Envesi barely raised her voice, but the razor edge to her words was more than enough to silence them.
Anaide sank back into her chair.
Suffocating silence fell over the room. Troubled, Nondar rubbed the aching joints in his gnarled hands. The soothing motion had become a worried habit. Quiet lingered for a time before the Archmage spoke once more.
“The five of you have been called only because the laws of the temple mandate that any decisions regarding high-ranking Masters must be heard by the five Houses.” Envesi studied each of them in turn as the words sank in. “There have never been secrets among Masters and never should there be. I cannot take this action without the Houses knowing. But with each of you here to represent your affinities, the decision has been spoken, and it will not be undone. None of you are to speak of this matter until there are five mages to send, in addition to my own selection.”
Edagan snorted a laugh. “Yes, I imagine you wouldn’t want the king to know you’ve put him in a political tight spot.”
“Do you really mean to continue this action without calling a full council?” Nondar shook his head in disapproval. Mages were meant to maintain neutrality, offering their services to both factions that ruled Elenhiise. It was no secret between Masters that they were to train the king’s potential heir—unofficially, and only until the boy’s formidable power was restrained, not controlled. Raising him through the mageling colors had been controversial enough. Naming the boy court mage granted him authority he had no right to bear.
Nondar’s mouth tightened. As she’d said, raising a mageling to Master was an action she couldn’t take without the Houses knowing. He knew the rule well. Her choice to act first and inform later was certainly a departure from the norm, twisting the wording of the rules to her advantage.
“Gathering the Masters from the chapter houses could take weeks,” Melora murmured.
“And in that time, Kifel’s wrath will likely come down on our heads. You can’t imagine he will take kindly to what you’ve done.” Alira lifted her chin. She looked far too haughty. Again, Nondar stifled the desire to throttle her.
“The matter will be discussed in full when the solstice is over,” the Archmage said. Her icy blue eyes settled squarely on Nondar. “This decision, however, will not be unmade.”
He stared back, unwilling to be intimidated. He was within his right to object, and he would not stand down.
Anaide pushed herself up again. “Then we shall discuss the matter in full at a later time. For now, you must excuse me. I have packing yet to do before the carriages depart.” She offered a curtsy that was spry for her age and excused herself without the Archmage’s permission. No one dared comment and not another word was shared.
One by one, the Masters rose and left. The Archmage herself departed before Nondar left the table.
The burden of politics and conflict weighed heavy on his mind. He was not certain of Envesi’s motives, but in his head, he saw the Archmage taking the first step toward a war of her own design.
A gray sky and surprisingly cold drizzle ushered in the new morning; not the sort of weather anyone wanted to see upon waking. The temple’s grounds hummed with activity despite the dreary weather. Above the buzz, the teachers put forward a frenzied effort to keep some sort of order.
A long line of carriages had appeared on the horizon at dusk the night before. Like all the other magelings, Kytenia had stolen glimpses of the caravan that was to transport the entire temple to Ilmenhith. She had not dared look long, but the look she’d gotten led her to believe the king had hired every team of horses on the island for this event.
Kytenia checked the wrappings of her ball gown for the twelfth time before she tucked it into her bag. She had stayed awake half the night to finish her dress and thought she was prepared, though perhaps not as prepared as Rikka, who had been ready to leave before the sun rose.
“Here she comes,” Shymin murmured as she hefted her bag over her shoulder. A whisper of footsteps halted outside their door and a flurry of knocks sounded.
“We’re coming,” Kytenia called. She spared one last look for her room, then hitched her bag under her arm and scuffled to the door.
Rikka bounced on her toes in the hallway. Marreli was with her, but the smaller girl rubbed her eyes as if she’d just been dragged out of bed.
“We all want to go, you know,” Shymin grumbled. “You don’t need to herd us.”
“I know.” Rikka grinned sheepishly. “They’ll be coming for a group soon, though, and I want us to be first in line.”
Kytenia blinked in surprise. “They what? I thought the carriages weren’t leaving until past noon!”
“They were,” Rikka said, “but the Masters say they anticipate storms and the drivers decided it would be better to get a head start.”
Marreli hid a yawn behind her hand. “Which made her even more glad she decided to chase me out of bed at sunrise.”
The girls filtered down the hall together, baggage in tow.
“Did you check to see if...?” Kytenia trailed off with a hopeful glance in Rikka’s direction.
Rikka started to say something, then closed her mouth and shook her head.
Kytenia’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded in understanding.
It felt wrong to leave without Firal. In the back of her head, she blamed herself for their friend’s absence; she’d been the one to tell her the carriages wouldn’t begin to leave until afternoon. Would things be different if she had insisted Firal be present at sunrise? She wrung her hands, but she didn’t know what else she could do. She’d already spoken to Nondar.
The Master mage had not been pleased by Kytenia’s report, and his mood had worsened when she mentioned Ran’s suspected involvement. He hadn’t said much, other than that he would address the matter. Then he instructed her not to speak of it anymore. Kytenia wasn’t sure if she was allowed to speak to the other girls, but she’d told them of the meeting anyway. She hadn’t kept names from her explanation, and while he hadn’t indicated it, she expected the rest of them would face discipline for keeping secrets once he dealt with Ran and Firal.
Shortly after they reached the front of the dormitory, a man in a driver’s uniform presented himself in the entrance. Rikka was the first to follow him toward the carriages. Shymin and Marreli were close behind, while Kytenia lingered in the doorway. Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach as she crossed the threshold and trailed behind the others.
Their carriage waited at the gate and Master Nondar stood beside it. Kytenia almost groaned when she saw him. Of course he would be assigned to their group after she’d spilled Firal’s secrets the night before.
The horses stamped impatiently as each of the girls clambered into the carriage with their luggage. The driver waited for them to settle before he helped Nondar up. The old Master seated himself just inside the door. It was more crowded than anticipated, and even once their luggage was stacked, there was little room to spare. Kytenia kept her head down and avoided Nondar’s eye. The driver checked their belongings twice before he latched the door from the outside. The moment it closed, the sound of voices outside faded to white noise.
L
ong minutes passed before they heard the rattle of the driver climbing into his seat. When he snapped the reins, the horses leaped forward so eagerly the girls nearly fell atop one another.
“Well!” Rikka pulled back the curtain on the tiny window. “This is nicer than I expected. The windows are glass.” She tapped the pane with a fingernail and listened to it click with silent appreciation. “From what I’ve heard, we should be arriving in Ilmenhith in just a few days.”
“With fortune,” Master Nondar agreed.
Kytenia was not the only one who winced. Amidst all the excitement, none of them had stopped to consider how long the trip from the temple to Ilmenhith might be. Now that they were settled in a cramped carriage, their excitement faded at the prospect of sitting mashed together for several days. Not that any of them would choose to stay behind.
The carriage swayed as its wheels found the narrow road. They could not see the conveyances in front of or behind them, but the way was familiar after their recent market visit. Kytenia gazed out through the drizzle beyond the carriage windows, and for a time, everything was quiet.
The convoy paused briefly in the market, and Shymin gathered all the receipts the seamstress had given them. She grew solemn when Kytenia gave her one, as well.
Kytenia smiled hopefully. She didn’t know how much use it would be, but no one had opposed when she suggested retrieving it from Firal’s room.
Silence fell after Shymin left to retrieve the dresses and the girls shifted uncomfortably for some time.
Rikka and Marreli chatted about the fashions they expected to see and which dances might be popular in the capital. Kytenia gazed out the window without seeing the people outside. Master Nondar produced a small book from his white robes and made himself comfortable to read. No one minded; it was unlikely their awkward small talk would have held his interest to begin with.
It took close to an hour for Shymin to make her way back to the carriage with packages wrapped in plain muslin in her arms. She passed them out before she returned to her seat.