“You can’t trust him,” said Tianne, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you know that by now?”
“I don’t trust him, but this is different. I had my suspicions before we left and when I confronted him about it he told me the truth.”
“Wren—” said Tianne, but she cut her off.
“The Grey Council knew the school was going to be attacked.” Both of her friends stared at her in silence, slowly digesting the words. “That was why Eloise had been meeting with the Jhanidi for months. It’s why all of the teachers were so preoccupied and kept going away on secret trips. They were preparing for the day when it happened. It’s also why I was the last student to join the school.”
A range of emotions flickered across their faces. Wren watched as they went back through their memories, going over everything they’d seen in the last few months at the school. There were a hundred questions they could have asked but there was only one that really mattered.
“How?” asked Danoph. “How did they know?”
“The same way I knew how to find Morag and Laila. It’s because of your nightmares. The dream you kept having about a fire wasn’t from the war. It was the Red Tower, burning on the horizon. Danoph, you’re an Oracle.”
Oracles were rare magic users whose connection to the Source enabled them to make prophecies about the future. At least that was the theory. Most of them were mad, gibbering creatures who lived in their own filth, worse than any animal. Several teachers had spoken of their disdain for Oracles as all of their vague predictions could be twisted to match recent events.
The most famous prophecy, the Opsum, spoke of a child with magic who would reshape the world for centuries. It was why the Grey Council of old had abandoned their posts leading to the downfall of magic and the abandonment of the Red Tower.
But Danoph was different and the new Grey Council had known for a long time.
Tianne started to protest and probably claim it was ridiculous but a peculiar stillness had fallen over Danoph. He was looking inwards again, probably studying the images he’d seen while asleep. Most recently his dreams had been about a girl being burned at the stake for using her magic. Wren had listened closely to what he’d told her for a week before having enough information to send out a search party. Tianne and the others had been told to ride south and look for a village where they could gather supplies. Instead they’d found a suspicious community getting ready to kill one of their own children.
“I don’t know what to say,” admitted Danoph.
“I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us,” admitted Wren. “You deserve to know the truth. I wanted to tell you sooner, but we were travelling and then busy setting up this community, but those are just excuses.”
“What will you do now?” asked Tianne.
Danoph shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“People keep asking me what’s next for our community. They’re all looking to me for answers, but I’m just making it up as we go,” confessed Wren. Normally she wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about such things, but it was easy in their company.
“We know that,” said Tianne with a wry smile.
“I need some time to think about this,” said Danoph.
“We all need to think about the future, but there’s one thing I’m certain about,” said Wren. “I would like you both to be part of this community. You came here because of me, but now you need to decide for yourselves. This place will grow and there will be some difficult times ahead, but this is where I need to be. Is it the right place for you?”
The idea of not seeing either of her friends every day was hard to contemplate but they needed to choose for themselves, without thinking about her or anyone else. Danoph finally knew the truth and Tianne had to make up her own mind, rather than following others because it was easier.
Even if she couldn’t admit it out loud, Wren knew the real reason she’d delayed telling them. She was afraid of being alone. But she was loath to manipulate them, even a little, after how Garvey had done it to her.
For now Wren decided to enjoy the time they had together while it lasted because she knew dark times lay ahead. Danoph had foreseen more than she’d told them. Events were going to get much worse and a lot of people were going to die. The question then became would she, or her friends, be among the victims?
CHAPTER 4
Regent Choilan managed to remain in control until he was alone in the royal wing of the palace. He closed the doors to his rooms and those to his bedchamber before falling into a chair in a fugue state.
His left hand began to shake and he gripped it with the right, trying to calm the fear racing through his body. For the first time since wrestling the throne away from the grubby hands of his rivals, Choilan was unsure of himself. Always a decisive man, he now faced a situation for which he was utterly unprepared. His Ministers had offered their best advice, but ultimately it was useless. Normally his clerks and discreet agents had more useful ideas, but even theirs had been insufficient. Any sort of definitive solution eluded him, leaving him feeling powerless and inept.
The guards and servants were whispering every time he passed them in the corridors of the palace. No doubt it would be the same across the city and there would only be one subject anyone cared about. Other minor worries and appeals had fallen away in its wake. Now the line of people requesting an audience every day was all focused on one thing.
Garvey.
Twice the rogue mage had crossed the border into Zecorria. Twice he’d brazenly walked into a village with his followers and acted as if he hadn’t erased an entire village only a few weeks ago, murdering everyone who lived there. The second time he crossed into Zecorria he’d spent the night at the village tavern. The local people had been terrified of what he might do to them if they refused to serve him and the others. Afraid for their lives they’d given Garvey and his followers food and drink, drawn them baths and provided them with rooms for the night. One man had described the experience as if everyone in the village had been balancing on the edge of a sword. It would only take one look, one wrong word and they’d all come tumbling down and be cut in half. Garvey had even paid for the rooms, as if he and the rest were normal patrons. Miraculously nothing happened and no one was killed. That hadn’t stopped people from demanding that he, as their Regent, do something about the rampaging menace.
It was small comfort that before Garvey had started his killing spree the national ban on Seekers had, apparently, been working. There had been no reports from his people about children exploding when they discovered their magic. Then again he’d not seen any recent reports about children struggling to control their magic. To that end Choilan had several agents discreetly visiting remote villages, disguised as merchants, to make sure that the locals had not decided to take matters into their own hands. So far there had been no rumours of children mysteriously disappearing. He suspected for the time being any child who had developed magic had simply become more adept at concealing it.
In the long term it was a serious problem that needed to be addressed. But right now he needed to find a way to deal with the current threat.
So far Garvey had destroyed two villages. One in Zecorria and one in neighbouring Yerskania to the south. On both occasions every person had been murdered and every building turned to dust. The corpses were left where they fell in the streets, a feast for crows. Those remains able to be recovered had often been chewed and mauled by hungry animals.
While the dead couldn’t appeal for justice, scores of relatives queued up in the palace day after day, screaming for bloody vengeance. The Minister of Defence was calling for him to mobilise the army. To take the fight to the rogue wizards and kill them all on the battlefield. Sadly, the Minister seemed to have forgotten his recent history and had learned nothing from it. Choilan understood the futile nature of such a decision but most people didn’t seem to care.
The people of Zecorria were afraid and they were quickly losing fa
ith in him as their leader. To them his inaction spoke of weakness. As ever, they were not interested in the reasons for his indecision. Results were all that mattered.
The doors to his bedchamber opened and Selina, his first wife, entered without invitation. She was one of only three people allowed in here and he insisted his other two wives knock first. A tall woman, only a few years younger than him, these days she was often called handsome rather than beautiful. Her dark eyes were a little too large for her face. Her cheeks sharp and angular and her eyebrows constantly drawn into a perpetual frown. His other wives were significantly younger and they often warmed his bed, but he never sought their advice on serious matters. Marrying Selina had been a political move but over time they had developed a mutual admiration of each other’s strengths. While never friends, and these days never lovers, their partnership had endured much and was stronger for it.
With a look and the slight raising of one eyebrow, he felt her assessing his slumped posture and the defeat on his face. Despite the early hour she poured two generous measures of kirsch and passed him a glass. As he rolled the colourless liquid around, inhaling the rich scent of cherries and almonds, she pulled up a chair and sat down opposite.
“To health,” she said, sipping at her drink for taste before draining the glass. Choilan gulped his down, savouring the burning in his throat and stomach. This was a harsh distillation, taken from the poor area where he was born, but he insisted on keeping a bottle from the region in his rooms at all times. It served as a reminder of his past. It was a way of grounding him to show how far he’d come since those early days of fighting for every mouthful of food. “Vile stuff,” said Selina, selecting a bottle of amber whisky and pouring them both another measure. This was something else. Aged for many years in oak barrels until it was smooth as silk and so expensive few could afford it. Instead of drinking it the Regent merely inhaled the rich flavours while Selina sipped at hers.
“Tell me” was all she said. So he laid it all out for her, piece by piece. The Seekers. The national ban. The fall of the Red Tower. Garvey on the rampage and the destruction that followed in his wake.
“I remember what one mage did during the war,” said Choilan in conclusion.
“Which one?” asked Selina. “The one who forged the west into an unholy alliance? Or the one who defeated him in battle?”
“Both,” he conceded. “One well-trained mage can kill hundreds of soldiers with just a thought or a gesture. How do you fight something like that?”
Selina raised that eyebrow again. “How did Seveldrom fight the Warlock?”
“With mages of their own.”
“Then there is your answer.” She said it so simply. As if the solution was just that easy. As if he could snap his fingers and solve it, just like that.
“Do you hate me so much that you take pleasure in tormenting me?”
“No, dearest,” she said, putting aside her glass and surprising him by holding one of his hands in both of hers. “I was being sincere. You should have mages of your own.”
“How? After getting rid of the Seekers, and playing into the people’s fear of magic. It would be almost impossible.”
“Almost,” agreed Selina. “But not quite.”
“You want me to hire a mage? I do not think anyone would come to defend us now, no matter the price that was offered. Garvey is also a member of the Grey Council and is known to be extremely powerful. Besides, how could I possibly trust a mage not to betray me?”
“That is the key,” said Selina, squeezing his hands. Her fingers were warm but the palms were calloused. She hadn’t always worn silk and lived in a palace. Her own path to First Wife of the Regent was no less challenging than his own. “Trust.”
“A loyal mage. A mage of my own,” he pondered. “A royally appointed mage to the court?”
“Perhaps in time,” she conceded. “But look to the far east. In the desert kingdoms they have warrior monks who are mages. They serve the King as his trusted eyes and ears. They carry out his will and wherever they go, the people know them and respect them as honoured guests. To displease them is to displease their King and his punishments are said to be severe.”
“The tattoo,” said Choilan. Over the years he’d seen a few Jhanidi in his capital city proudly bearing their tattoo which ran down one side of their face. It sent an instant message to anyone they met what they were and who they represented.
“They are loyal patriots, but trust must be earned,” said Selina. “In this way Garvey, and his band of murderers, may even be useful.”
Choilan was starting to see where she was leading him. “A cadre of my own.”
“He is the invading foreigner. A rogue mage and a danger that threatens us all. We need loyal patriots who are willing to stand up and face him. Proud Zecorrans who want to defend their homeland.”
“Are you suggesting an amnesty for Zecorran mages?”
Selina shrugged. “Perhaps, although I doubt there are many of worth living in secret. They’ve probably muddled along, not been properly trained. But we can use the fall of the Red Tower to our advantage. Recruit the children.”
“An untrained, untrustworthy child, against Garvey,” scoffed the Regent, starting to pull his hand away. “It would be like a bee trying to sting a bear.”
“But a swarm of bees can kill anything,” said Selina, crushing his hand until he winced. “It will be a show of force that may keep him from our borders. Soldiers working in combination with them would calm the people as well.”
Finally she relented and let go of his hand but remained hunched forward, their faces close to one another. He’d forgotten about the vein that throbbed in her forehead when she was annoyed. It made him smile despite the situation and she pulled back slightly, misinterpreting his expression.
“How could we trust them?”
“They are just children,” said Selina. “They are lost, without a home or their leaders. They need guidance and strong role models. Better us than they become rogues like Garvey or worse, they join a criminal band and disappear into the underworld.”
“I’ve been pushing hard about the danger of Seekers. It helped soothe the people when the ban was brought in, but now magic is on their minds again.”
“Shift the fear to the Red Tower,” suggested Selina. “It was responsible for the Seekers. It created the menace of Garvey. The students are just children. Lost little lambs who don’t know any better.”
“But we will teach them,” said Choilan. He briefly shared a smile with his first wife.
“If the children are young enough we can mould them into loyal patriots who will serve their country without question.”
“What if they prove disloyal?” asked the Regent. “Or they’re too old to be moulded?”
“I’ll leave it up to you to decide how you deal with those people,” said Selina, running a hand up his thigh. “But remember, there are many ways to motivate young, curious minds. Just ask your other wives.”
The shiver of pleasure from her touch faded and he grimaced. “I deserved that.” She withdrew her hand and sat back to sip at her expensive whisky. It was at times like these that he remembered why she was still alive. At one point, only a few months ago, he’d been plotting for her to have an accident. Choilan was suddenly glad that he’d put the plan on hold.
“And if those methods fail to motivate them, there’s always the torturer’s blade to break their spirit. Then you can rebuild them from the ground up.” She said it with such dispassion he was suddenly reminded why they rarely shared a bed any more. Every time they did he was sure he’d wake up to find her hands around his throat. Selina regarded him coolly over the rim of her glass as if she could read his thoughts. A small and dangerous smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“The children must be taught, to make them stronger, but that is a concern for another day. For now I think thirty children, sworn to the throne of Zecorria, would make even Garvey pause.”
“I bel
ieve you’re right,” he agreed. “And once again, we can be seen as the example that others in the west should follow. Just as it was with the ban on Seekers.”
“Let them worry about their own problems. They may not use the same methods, but that could also be turned to our advantage in time.”
Choilan imagined what it would be like to be surrounded by a dozen strong and loyal mages. An immeasurable powerful force that would fight to defend him and give up their lives for him. A cadre that could defeat entire armies. One that he could even loan to his neighbours if they chose not to adopt the same methods.
“It will have to be worded carefully,” he mused.
“You have people for your speeches, do you not?” she asked. “Let them earn their coin. It needs to be a powerful message.”
“I will get them working on it immediately,” he replied and Selina stood up to leave. “Do you have to go?”
Her expression was cold and haughty as she stared down her nose at him. “You have your other wives for that.”
He shrugged. It was true. They were younger, and more agile, but sometimes it was nice to be challenged by someone who was his equal in the ways that mattered.
“Do you want me to get rid of them?” he asked, wondering if she was genuinely jealous, although that seemed unlikely.
“You flatter yourself,” she said. “No, you should keep them. They stop you from trying to climb into my bed every night when I’m trying to sleep.”
Choilan felt his shoulders slump in defeat. It had not always been this way. Once he had been as passionate about her as he was his other wives. Marrying the others had also been a political move upon taking the throne. To ensure that his line continued and to honour the families who had lent him their favour during his campaign. With daughters one step away from the throne they were raised higher than their peers and could ask for more favours.
“Did you seek me out for a reason, or were you just bored?” he said, returning to the pleasures of his whisky since her body seemed beyond his reach.
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