by Beth Alvarez
Vahn nodded. “Do it.”
Ennil slid from his horse and moved toward the cluster of mounted soldiers. “Ronar! Where are you?”
Kepha peered over her shoulder as Ennil disappeared among the men, then looked back to the village.
“Would they send the mages from Eldril to attend something here if it was important?” Vahn asked in a low voice.
“If it was an emergency, perhaps,” she murmured.
“Should you go with the messenger, just in case?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
Ennil returned with a man close at his heels. “Ronar will head to the guard tower and see what's going on.”
“I'll go with him.” Kepha dismounted and offered her horse's reins to Ennil. “If people have fallen ill, they might appreciate the extra help.”
Ennil nodded, took her horse and returned to his own. He waited by the stirrup and watched the pair walk ahead.
“Are you concerned?” Vahn asked casually, stretching his legs one at a time. His back and backside ached and he thought he'd walk bow-legged for the rest of the evening, but he wasn't ready to give up the advantage of horseback just yet.
His father looked surprised. “Why would I be? Even if they're beset by plague, we've a mage to heal us before infection can begin.”
Vahn rubbed his chin. A plague would explain why there were multiple mages there; most people knew mages couldn't work healing on themselves. Outbreaks of disease were attended by at least a pair of mages for that exact reason. Not that they'd want to walk into a village with plague, even with a mage to support them. It was, however, a situation he hadn't considered. How many mages might have left their stations to tend needs across the countryside? Which mages should he leave at their posts in case of emergencies? How thin could they afford to be spread?
No, he thought. This was his daughter. Every mage was needed. None could be spared.
Even if it means the suffering of your people? He squeezed his eyes closed, quashing that quiet objection.
The band behind him waited, quiet. The horses puffed and stamped, the only sound aside from the singing of crickets in the grass. Vahn stared at the village, watching for movement. Aside from Kepha and Ronar, he hadn't seen a soul in the streets since they stopped. He'd have thought it strange if not for the movement of light and shadow in the windows of houses here and there. They had come at sundown, after all. People would be inside now, eating supper with their families. The thought made his stomach growl. He tried to pay it no mind.
“There,” Ennil said, pacing forward a step or two.
A lone figure reemerged from the guard tower. Vahn tightened his grip on the reins as he watched Ronar make his way back to the group without hurry. Was that good or bad?
“Mages from the temple, Lord Tanrys,” Ronar said as he approached. He glanced up at Vahn as if unsure it was proper to address the king, but also unsure if it was proper to give his information to someone else. “Our mage is speaking with them. There's an important Master there. I don't know her, but she's got the eye-marks.”
Raising a brow, Vahn nudged his horse forward a step. The only mages allowed to wear eye-marks were court mages and Masters who led Houses of affinity. “Why are they here?”
The soldier looked surprised. “No disease or anything, the village is safe. The Master said they were sent to investigate something. Something about magic where it oughtn't be. That was all I heard before they told me to retrieve you, Majesty.”
Vahn's heart jumped in his throat. When he'd left the palace, the mages had been trying to determine where the Gate his daughter was taken through led. Had they found something?
“Mount up,” he said, both to Ronar and his father. “If the temple sent them, I'll need to know what's going on.”
Ronar nodded and dipped in a half bow before he hurried back to his horse.
Ennil dragged himself back into the saddle, still holding the reins of Kepha's mount. “Don't get your hopes up yet, Vahn,” he said quietly. “I didn't recognize where we went, but I don't think it was here. Even the guard tower isn't big enough to hold the room I chased her into.”
“That doesn't mean she wasn't here.” Vahn kicked his horse to a trot. If anything, it made more sense that Envesi would have hopped from place to place in an attempt to cover her tracks. Especially if she'd landed in a location that had another mage, someone who might sense her power and send word to Firal.
He reached the guard tower a horse length or two before the rest of his group, slid to the ground and dropped the reins. Ilmenhith's horses were as well-trained as its men, and the animal would stay put unless spooked or led away. Behind him, Ennil barked orders, assigning men to tend horses and stand guard.
Vahn barely heard them as he hurried through the open door.
A half-dozen mages in Master white stood in the front room, clustered beside a table. Their conversation halted the moment one saw him. All of them were female, and most of them surprised. When the group's leader turned to face him, Vahn froze in place.
Shymin Silaron, Master of the House of Healing and Archmage Kytenia's elder sister, regarded him with a cool and neutral expression.
He'd expected an important mage, but not that important.
“I almost didn't believe it when your scout said he rode with the king.” She smiled, though her expression still seemed chilly, set off by her eyes. When had they bleached? They had been a warm hazel when he'd seen her last. Now they were the same sharp, piercing pale blue of all the other high-ranking mages. All but Kytenia, anyway. “An honor to see you, Your Majesty.”
“And you, Master Shymin.” Vahn skimmed the faces of the other mages. His brows knit in concern. “Where is Kepha?”
“Upstairs. She asked to borrow supplies to pen a letter back to the temple, since there are so many of us here. She'll return shortly, I'm sure.” Shymin moved toward him with a graceful stride, her white robes swirling around her ankles.
She was a stately woman, if not pretty like her sister. She was taller than Kytenia, almost as tall as Vahn himself, with an oval face and hair that was now more mage-white than brown. Though the blue of her eyes was jarring, she'd worn the black eye-markings of a Master of affinity for decades, the delicate pattern of swirls always the same.
Spreading her hands in greeting, Shymin watched the men file in behind their king. “How may I assist you?”
“We ride to gather mages from their outposts and send them to Ilmenhith,” Vahn said. “The Archmage will need everyone she can get, and we're as fast of messengers as any others.”
“Strange for the king to reduce himself to messenger duty.” She raised a brow and her eyes flicked past him again. “Greetings, Lord Tanrys. You, I did expect. Though perhaps not so soon.”
Vahn's eyes narrowed. Why would she expect his father?
“You have a lot of mages with you.” Ennil positioned himself a step behind his son. “Should I take it to mean you've made progress with your work?”
“Not so much as we'd like.” Shymin sighed and waved a hand. “Wild magic is always difficult, though I don't expect you to have any experience with it. But we are figuring things out, one step at a time.”
“Temar said a number of the temple's mages were searching for where Envesi's Gate led. Have you made any progress with that?” Vahn couldn't keep a note of hope out of his voice.
Shymin blinked and arched a brow. “Of course. I know exactly where that Gate led. Why else do you think I am here?”
His heart skipped a beat. “So we're closer to finding Lulu?”
“Find her?” She laughed softly. “The mages with me are the best Masters the temple has to offer. We already know where she is.”
It was better news than he could have imagined. His mouth fell open and he worked a moment before he could close it. “I have to tell Firal!”
Smiling, Shymin touched his arm and motioned toward the stairs nestled in the corner of the room. “Your mage said the same thing. Come, I'l
l take you to join her. We'll see about getting a message to the queen.”
Vahn turned to his father, but Ennil raised a hand.
“Go ahead,” Ennil said, looking pleased. “I'll see to the men.”
Vahn hurried up the stairs with Shymin at his heels. They'd found her. He couldn't believe it. His heart fluttered in his chest, riding waves of blossoming hope. With enough mages, perhaps they could settle things on their own and call off the search for Ran. Things could go back to normal, and the nightmare of the past few days would be laid to rest.
Shymin slipped ahead to push open a door in the second floor hallway, then beckoned him to enter.
He rounded the corner and froze.
Kepha was on the floor, bound and gagged.
11
Meetings
It wasn't until his eyes opened that Vahn realized the mages had done something to him. He didn't remember blacking out, didn't remember anything other than stepping around the corner and seeing Kepha on the floor.
Groggy, he turned his head and tried to move. Every muscle in his body ached, as if he'd just roused from bone-shatter fever. He hadn't been that ill since he was a child.
The room was dim. Wherever he was, it wasn't the guard tower in the little village outside of Eldril. He pushed himself up from the floor and sat upright, blinking at a pair of boots that stepped into his line of sight. For some reason, he'd thought he was alone.
“This isn't the way I would have handled things.” Ennil towered over him, the pale moonlight marking the planes of his aging face with deep crags of shadow.
Vahn's eyes wouldn't focus. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Are we imprisoned?”
“We?” His father sounded amused. “Certainly not. You, on the other hand...”
His mouth was dry, his tongue sticky against the roof of his mouth. Vahn swallowed in vain and lifted his head again. Recollection of the way Shymin greeted his father made him scowl. “You betrayed us.” His voice rasped in his throat. “You never tried to save Lumia, did you?” His own father. And Kytenia's sister. Blood and earth! After all their struggles, the temple was still corrupt.
Ennil sighed and turned away. His boots crunched on the gritty stone floor as he paced toward a narrow window. Little more than an arrow slit, it let in just enough light to see. “I'm sure it's easy for you to think that. And I understand if you're angry, but believe me, what I've done has been in the best interest of our family.”
Anger surged in him and Vahn tried to move. He wanted to challenge the man in front of him, strike him down and spit on his corpse. Instead he barely made it to his knees. “You kidnapped my child and handed her to a monster!”
“Your child?” his father sneered. “You're not fooling anybody, Vahn. Not even yourself. She's not yours, and anyone who's seen the girl has thought it.”
Inch by inch, Vahn rose, though it took every ounce of his willpower to stand straight. He didn't know what the mages had done. He didn't feel like he'd been hurt, it felt more like he'd been... frozen, somehow. His joints creaked like hinges unused for a hundred years. “Blood isn't what makes a family. She's been mine for thirty years.”
Ennil scoffed. “And for thirty years I've sat aside and watched our family legacy fade, replaced with dreams left behind by someone else.”
“And you think that justifies what you've done? Giving her to an enemy of the crown?” Vahn took a step forward. His strength was returning rapidly now, his breath coming easier. The weighted feeling in his limbs began to dissipate. He walked slowly, deliberately, striding past his father and toward the narrow window. Not an arrow loop after all, as it was paned with fine glass. It was just far more narrow than a window should have been.
“I did what I had to.”
“My daughter could die because of you.”
“Your daughter is alive because of me!” Ennil snarled, spinning toward him. “Vilify me all you want, but don't doubt for a moment that I love her too. You say blood isn't what makes a family as if I don't know. Brant's roots, boy, look at me!”
Vahn turned his head, loath to heed a command, but desperate for answers.
“You never stopped to think it odd that the Archmage came back now? All these years after her exile, when her cause was all but forgotten? Something pulled her back here, Vahnil, and I knew what it was the moment I heard.” Ennil shook his head and stared at the floor. If he didn't know better, Vahn might have thought the look on his face was shame. “You couldn't have protected her. No one could. The only reason she's safe is because I made sure she was useful.”
“What are you talking about?” Vahn asked.
His father looked at him strangely. “Didn't Firal ever tell you the reason the temple was founded?”
Vahn stared at him.
Ennil's face fell. “Doesn't she know?”
“I've never heard anything about this,” Vahn murmured. Despite the anger that still coursed through his veins, he felt a wash of calm. He was a king. He would not let rage get the better of him.
His father regarded him in silence for a long time. Then Ennil sighed, lifted a hand to his forehead, and rubbed his brow. “Lifetree have mercy.”
Vahn looked out the window and squinted into the moonlit night. He didn't recognize anything. Even the architecture of the low city around them was unfamiliar. “It seems you know a great deal you've kept from the council, Lord Tanrys.” He made himself sound as patronizing as possible.
Ennil flinched. “No,” he said slowly as he made his way to the window. His voice was so low Vahn barely heard. “I know very little of what we face, and that pains me. Let me be clear. You may despise me, but through everything that's happened since before you were even born, I've done what's best for the kingdom and what's best for our family. And if you and your bride handle yourselves carefully, the kingdom may well make it through this revolution unscathed.”
Vahn glared and gritted his teeth. Curse the man and the years of politics that taught him to talk in circles. “What revolution? What's happening?”
Ennil waved a hand toward the window. “Look outside, boy. You'll see the beginning.”
“All I see is a city. It doesn't mean anything to me.”
“And I suppose it wouldn't,” his father said. “You never had a chance to visit before Relythes built that wall.”
Startled, Vahn looked outside again. “We're in the Giftless lands?”
“Not anymore.” Ennil shrugged as he made his way toward the door. “These are her lands now.”
Vahn's head snapped back to the window. Beyond the glass, nothing had changed, but the sight now gave him chills. “The king—?” he asked haltingly.
“Alive.” Ennil paused at the door. There was something in his hesitance that Vahn didn't know how to read. An uncertainty, perhaps. That he didn't know what awaited him on the other side. Or was it that he didn't want to leave? Given all that had just transpired, it was hard to believe the old man would want to stay. “Though he answers to her, now.”
“So she's already taken a kingdom.” A muscle in Vahn's neck pinged with discomfort. He grimaced and rocked his head to the side as he worked his fingers into the spasm. “What more does she want from us?”
“I don't think she means to rule. If she'd wanted that, she would have stayed at Kifel's side. Magic is all that matters to her. It's not what she wants from you, necessarily. It's what she wants from the mages. She founded the temple to give herself power over them. We made a mistake in wresting it from her.”
“We didn't have a choice. The kingdom was falling apart around us and she was cheering on its collapse.”
“I think that's generous,” Ennil said. “I don't think she's capable of cheering for anything. But I'm not saying I fault the queen for that decision. I realize there was little else that could be done. Still, that doesn't keep it from being a mistake.”
Vahn scoffed. “Is that how you feel about what you did? Handing over Lumia?”
A shadowy scowl
drifted over his father's face. Instead of replying, he returned to the previous subject. “The problem is that kingdoms aren't enough, Vahn. You've seen yourself the effect mages have, the way people react when they hear their mages are being taken away. But no one wants to be a mage. They're fearsome. People are afraid of them now. Elenhiise was her plan to start over, create a culture that respected and treasured mages. That was her plan to protect them, ensure the practice of magecraft carried on. Now that's been torn away from her, and all that's left is seizing respect by force.”
Ennil reached for the door. “As I said, you're free to despise me. But when the time comes and the new free mages enslave the world, I know which side I want to be on.” He gave his son one last hard, meaningful look as he stepped backwards into the hall.
Vahn glowered back as he closed the door.
“I expected a little less formality.” Rune adjusted the pointed cuffs of his sleeves as he took in the ten faces that stared him down. Garam was one of them, which took him by surprise, though he didn't allow it to show.
The council—plus Garam—sat in what was once his father's office, seated around tables that had been arranged into a C-shape. A single chair stood at the mouth of the open space between them. It was the only empty chair in the room.
Firal sat directly opposite that chair, her hands folded atop the table, her face serene. “Sit,” she ordered quietly.
He stopped behind the chair and twisted his cuffs again. They wouldn't sit right beneath the irons the guards had put on him after he'd dressed. He'd asked for blue silk and the maids had obliged. Did the councilors think it odd that he chose the kingdom's colors? Their faces told him nothing. “Is this a trial?”
“Sit,” Firal repeated, sharper.
Leveling his gaze with hers, Rune sat. He slouched in the chair and propped his elbow on the arm. “I don't see why I can't sit at the table.”