Chained Adept

by Myers, Karen

  “That’s enough for one night,” she said. She rose up clumsily from her cross-legged seat and walked away, out of the firelight.

  Tak looked over at Zandaril, across the fire. “That wasn’t the sort of story I expected,” he said.

  “Nor I,” Zandaril said, thoughtfully.

  At last. People.

  Penrys turned her horse off the trail and pulled the pack mule along behind her. She stopped there to concentrate. The trees and grasses were greener, on this side, and the air had been getting moister for some time now.

  Behind her, she heard Zandaril call out softly to Tak Tuzap to keep him from riding ahead of them.

  They were still well up in the pass on the western side, about halfway down from the crest, but for the first time in days she could feel the mind-glows of other people in the not yet visible valley below them.

  “There are small clusters of men, women, even kids—well scattered. Families and villages, I would guess.”

  Tak had turned around and come back up to watch. He nodded. “That’s what there should be, down there.”

  “Are they Kigaliwen, or the Rasesni invaders?” Zandaril asked.

  “Can’t tell from here—too far away for language. Just ordinary folk, no wizards,” Penrys said.

  At Tak’s puzzled look, she added, “If they’re Rasesni settlers, they might be a lot like the people they displaced.”

  She looked at Zandaril. “It would be useful if they were Rasesni, and a bit closer. Think of those two books.” The spy’s books, power-stones, and a few of his pre-built device forms took up part of her pack.

  Tak ignored her aside. “That’s our land. What about the people who lost everything?”

  “It was Rasesdad land before that,” Zandaril commented. “And I’m sure Chang is intent on making it Kigali land again.”

  “Point is,” Penrys said, “these aren’t likely the primary folk doing the fighting and planning. It’s not them we’re looking for, but the leaders and especially the wizards, if they have any.”

  Zandaril coughed. “We’ll be just as dead if it’s the herders and farmers who catch us.”

  “True.” She twisted in her saddle and grinned at him. “Got to survive long enough to get further into Wechinnat and find out about the situation there. Glad you came?”

  She laughed outright at the glare he directed at her, and turned to the boy.

  “What’s the best method of working our way north without being seen? Can we stay in the foothills? As far as the Gates?”

  “The hills are no good—the trails go over them, not the other way, north and south. The trade road on this side runs along the valley edge for a few miles before it joins up with the main road. That might be empty, I suppose, if you go at night.”

  He pursed his lips. “Can’t you just make yourselves invisible or something?”

  “Wonderful that would be, if we could.” Zandaril nodded slowly. “Horses, too?”

  Tak’s face fell.

  “And then there’s all those footsteps, and creaking leather, and jingling harness.”

  Penrys chimed in. “Not to mention the smell when one of the horses decides to…”

  The boy’s face flamed red. “How do I know what you two can do?”

  “Sorry, Takka,” she said, “but it’s just not that easy. We can sneak around a bit, but not with all this gear. What we have to do is meet up with your uncle’s colleagues at Gonglik, if they’re still around, and get some information.”

  “And then we have to not get caught, any of us,” Zandaril said. “And get a message back to Chang.”

  She looked at him. “And how were you planning to do that, by the way? Smoke signals?”

  He looked at her, deadpan. “I thought we could seal up some clay bottles with messages inside and float them down the river. What do you think?”

  She laughed, unable to contain herself. “No, really, how will we get messages out?”

  “We’ll carry them out ourselves.” He looked at her seriously. “This is something I intend to survive.”

  CHAPTER 22

  *I don’t like this. The boy’s overdue.*

  Penrys and Zandaril communicated silently. They were mounted and held all five animals quiet in the patch of woods on the edge of the little farm village that Tak Tuzap had named Lupmikya while they waited for the boy to return from his reconnaissance.

  *He hasn’t moved much for half an hour.*

  She’d had her mind on him as he worked his way into the center of town, but it was like following one fish in a multitude, with all the people going about their business in the early evening. She couldn’t detect any wizards, so she thought she could safely bespeak Zandaril, but she couldn’t shake her uneasiness, recalling how Zandaril had accidentally spooked the Rasesni spy that way. We don’t really know what they can do.

  *You’d know if he was hurt, yes?*

  She nodded in response to Zandaril’s question, confident he could make her out well enough in the dusk.

  *There are Rasesni here—can you feel them?*

  Penrys had wanted to stop and look at the books she’d brought with her from the spy, now that it would be possible to read them. Her fingers itched to dig into her pack and pull one out, if she could only strike a light.

  *I don’t get that much detail.*

  She could feel Zandaril’s hesitation, before he continued. *How do wizards fight each other?*

  *Wish I knew.*

  Biting her lip, she looked away from him in the dim light. *There were books in the index, in the Collegium, but they didn’t let me in everywhere.*

  *In sarq-Zannib, they have contests, one on one. The winner is the more powerful.*

  She saw him tap his forehead.

  *And if he is a man of… bad character?*

  He swept his hand sideways in front of him. *Several can overpower one.*

  *Ah. So, no wizard-tyrants, then.*

  His head dipped in the dark. *We call them qahulaj. But mostly it’s just feuds and boasts. Unorganized, like everything else. What the Rasesni are doing, that’s different.*

  *Organized, as you would say.* She smiled to herself. *It’s a function of the devices for physical magic. You can accumulate tools, and that provides leverage. I imagine it’s like producing weapons on a large scale—now you can have an army. But, just like an army, it needs social and political organization, too. And people willing to be subordinate to the whole. They don’t have that in Ellech—too much independence.*

  *Kigali has the organization, but not the wizards. Tun Jeju was ready to think that way. But what about Rasesni? What’s happening with them?*

  She let Zandaril’s question hang unanswered, and concentrated on following Tak’s progress.

  *He’s moving now. Two more coming with him.*

  It didn’t feel right to her to let a kid take on this danger, but they were relying on his contacts and had to trust he could look after himself.

  Seemed like Zandaril could pick the boy’s mind out, now that he was closer. *He’s left the other two back at the fence.*

  Penrys waited for him to get there. *He’s upset about something. Bad news, maybe. His uncle?*

  A low whistle penetrated the dark, and Zandaril whistled back.

  Tak slipped back into the little hollow where they waited. “Found them,” he said.

  “What about the two who came with you?” Penrys asked.

  She felt his surprise. “Wizards, remember?” She smiled when she said it, and after a brief hesitation she saw his own answering grin gleaming in the night.

  “I wanted to come back first, by myself. I know one of them, Zau Tselu, he was a friend of Uncle Tak. He vouches for the other one.”

  She heard the echo of grief in his voice. “You heard something about your uncle, didn’t you?”

  He choked. “I… I knew he was dead. Had to be.”

  Zandaril murmured, “Not the same as hearing about it for sure.”

  The boy nodded.


  “They want to take you somewhere for a meeting, One of the farms. They’ve got a stable where we can put the horses and stuff for a while.”

  *What do you think?*

  Penrys snorted. *Well, I can monitor them well enough to tell when one’s about to betray us. Just before he pulls his knife out.*

  To the boy, she said, “Well done, Tak. Go ahead. Take us to them.”

  Tak Tuzap mounted his own horse and led them out along the margin of the field to join the two men waiting on foot at the fence nearest the lane.

  Penrys detected suspicion but no malice in them. The first one, stout and middle-aged, held up a hand to stop Tak from introducing them and brought them in silence down the lane. She made no demurral. Introductions can wait. The second man, tall and elderly, followed in the rear, the gray in his braid visible in the faint light.

  She kept her mind lightly on the half-dozen Rasesni-speakers in the area, but she was sure none of them were wizards. That didn’t mean that no one else in the village would betray them—there was no way to tell what hostages had been taken and how each person’s situation would shape their actions.

  They walked quietly for twenty minutes along the grassy roads on the outer edge of the main settlement, and then at last turned away from the distant lights and back towards the woods. When they reached it, the samke, the farm compound, was a dark mass cut out of the sky, and Penrys sensed no one inside, or anywhere nearby, besides themselves. There was enough starlight to make out the side path that led around back to a stable, barn, and other outbuildings, all as deserted as the main compound—no livestock in the fields or the paddocks, and no recent smell of them, either.

  She shivered. Had they been victims of the invasion here, or did they leave for somewhere else?

  Their guide drew back the bar that closed the stable door. They dismounted and he led them over the threshold with all their animals. He raised his hand when Zandaril was about to speak, and the question died unuttered. Both of the villagers walked the length of the stable, seven empty stalls and one still filled with straw for bedding, and closed every wooden shutter. The stout one even laboriously climbed the ladder into the loft, and Penrys heard shutters drawn together there, too. She listened to him grope with his foot for the top rung, and then make his way back down in the pitch blackness.

  Finally, the old man struck a light and touched the wick of the lantern he’d carried all the way. The sudden light dazzled Penrys’s eyes for a moment before they adjusted.

  Zandaril sneezed from the dust that had been stirred up, and Tak let loose a startled laugh.

  The boy caught the eye of the stout man. Something he saw there reassured him, and he bowed to him. “Zau-chi, these are the wizards, Zandaril and Penrys, sent by Commander Chang.”

  To his own travel companions, he said, “My uncle’s friend, Zau Tselu, and Nek Kazu. They said they’ll listen to you.”

  Zau said, at once, “We make no promises, mind. Rasesni are bad enough.” He scowled at the boy. “You said nothing about a Zan and…” He waved his hand dubiously at Penrys.

  Zandaril bowed. “We want only to find out the truth of what has happened in Neshilik, binochiwen, not to cause you any further trouble.”

  Penrys nodded. It was clear the villagers distrusted foreigners, and wizards, but that was no surprise.

  The two men looked at each other. The old one said, “If you’re found, we shall deny we ever saw you, you understand? It’s too risky. They’ve taken some of our youngsters in to serve them.”

  Penrys looked him in the eyes. “We won’t betray your help, and the boy’s already proved his own courage.”

  Zau said, grudgingly, “Aye, his uncle would’ve been proud of him, that’s a fact. Down the gorge and back over the Red Wall, is it?”

  He considered them. “Well, no light outside at all, none of you. This family won’t be coming back, but there’s neighbors might wonder if they saw a light or any of your beasts. We’ll be back come morning with some food and maybe the yankatmi, the headwoman. You all stay put, hear? No wandering around.”

  Zandaril bowed again. “We’ll do whatever you ask, and thank you for your hospitality.”

  Zau thinned his lips, but made no reply. They left the lantern behind on the floor of an empty stall so that its light would be masked when they opened the stable door to leave.

  It creaked on its hinges, and Penrys listened for the sound of the bar being thrown to shut them in, but it didn’t come.

  Zandaril chuckled. “Thought they’d lock us in, after all that.”

  “I thought they’d be pleased to see you.” Tak Tuzap’s disappointment was clear in his voice.

  “Never mind,” Zandaril told him. “There’s Rasesni blood in the old families here, from before, and they’re remembering their great-grandparents and wondering if they can just all get along again. Might not want the army showing up and forcing them to choose. ’Sides, having their kids or grandkids held hostage is a powerful incentive to leave things be.”

  Penrys picked up the lantern and inspected the stalls and the leftover tools. “There’s not much here, but we’ve got our own canvas buckets if we can find some water. Must be a well somewhere in the yard. The hay still looks fresh enough, and we’ve got grain in the packs.”

  She hung the lantern on a high hook over the main aisle. “Let’s get the animals settled and catch what sleep we can. We’ll see things more clearly in the morning.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The sound of rain on the wooden shingles of the hay loft woke Penrys before Zandaril came to get her at the end of his watch. They had split the night, watching for anyone approaching from the village. The precaution might have been unnecessary, but Penrys couldn’t maintain any sort of shield while she slept, nor was she even sure that the shield was a good idea—the wizard who ran the mirror seemed to have been attracted by it—so this was the best they could do. She checked the surroundings now. She felt Tak Tuzap, still sunk in the sound sleep of youth, and Zandaril preparing to catch another couple of hours before the sun was properly up, but no one else nearby.

  She yawned, grateful for a roof this wet morning, even if only a hay loft, half-full of bales. Daylight soon—I can start with the Rasesni books!

  She pulled on her boots and stepped carefully down the ladder. The horses and mules were dozing, standing hip-slung and quiet. She picked up two of the buckets that had been left behind and went out the human door on the side, calculating the driest route to the privy, and then to the well to bring back water for the animals and themselves.

  When she returned, dripping, she set the buckets down inside the doorway and looked over at her pack, the one that held the bags of Veneshjug’s power stones. She closed her eyes. Yes, I can feel them, but only just, unpowered as they are. Couldn’t do that from the yard.

  There was no telling what Veneshjug’s colleagues could manage. She kept her own shield up lightly, now that she was awake. Just because there didn’t seem to be a wizard within range didn’t mean none was there. We don’t know what they can do. I’m not back at the Collegium, where my range is longer than anyone else’s. It’d be stupid to think that’s true everywhere.

  She’d tried to teach Zandaril to shield himself last night, but it was slow work—apparently wizards didn’t hide that way in sarq-Zannib. Their best defense was going to have to be not to draw any attention to themselves, and to find out as much as they could without alerting any Rasesni wizards.

  She snorted quietly. That’ll be a neat trick.

  “Listen to this.” Penrys’s voice drifted up from the far side of the stable.

  Zandaril sighed. Penrys had buried her nose in the first Rasesni book from the moment there was enough light to make out the letters on the page. She’d commandeered an empty stall, opened the shutter on its window, and dragged a bench into it as a makeshift work table so she could follow along with experiments as she read.

  While he and Tak Tuzap had watered and fed the animal
s, and set up a watch for their promised visitors, she’d been calling out the highlights of device techniques that were apparently new to her.

  He’d popped in once to look over her shoulder, but he still couldn’t read it. She tried to show him something with the wooden forms and loose stones she’d brought with her, but he just shook his head and backed out again.

  “Aren’t you worried about having all that… stuff out in the open with other people around?” he asked.

  “I’ll put it away before they get here. The book, especially—wouldn’t do to have a Rasesni book around, under the circumstances, I suppose.”

  Zandaril rolled his eyes. “Come have some breakfast.”

  “Later… Who knows when I’ll be able to read it again…” Her voice trailed off as she flipped a page.

  “Everywhere in Neshilik there will be Rasesni,” Zandaril muttered under his breath as he joined Tak on a bench against the wall, as far as he could get from her experiments. The boy grinned at him.

  There was a sizzle and a spark from the stall, and dust rose over the partition.

  “That’s how that works. What a clever idea!”

  “Is she always like this?” Tak asked Zandaril.

  “I hope not.” He had visions of this unbridled enthusiasm at work in the hallowed halls of the Collegium library.

  “Try not to blow us all up if you figure it out,” he called.

  “They’re coming,” Penrys said. She stuck her head out of the stall doorway to make sure she’d been heard. There was dirt on her forehead and down along one cheek.

  Zandaril grunted. Apparently she hadn’t been so entirely absorbed in her research as not to maintain a watch. Her range was greater than his, but soon he could feel the approach of four people, the two from last night, and two others.

  Penrys disappeared again, and he heard her sweeping her things into a pack. She emerged from the stall with it over her shoulder and hoisted it up the ladder to bury it in the loft.

  “No sense leaving it around underfoot,” she said, as she passed.