Color Mage (Book 1)

by Anne Marie Lutz

  “Wait!” Callo said. Ha’star turned and looked at him with no expression, just a level gaze. “What’s your opinion? You who hate all ku’an. What do you think, Ha’star?”

  “I think that you best get this force under control before it kills all of us.”

  “Tell me how. I will do what you say.”

  There was a glint of surprise from the scarred warrior. “You always were different. You want my advice?”

  “Gods, yes, anything.”

  “My advice is, quit your whinin’ and go see the healer.”

  Anger sparked in his head, showing red in his vision. Ha’star stood balanced, as if waiting for an attack, eyes narrowed as he watched him. Callo choked a little, fighting down the headache, forcing down the agonizing color magic. Words stuck in his throat.

  Chiss said, “Hon Kirian does not know the color magery, but she is a Healer of mind and body.”

  Watching Callo, Ha’star relaxed a little. “Good. I wasn’t sure I’d live through that much honesty.” He grinned. “I’ll get her.”

  Callo stood, trying to suppress the violence that threatened to explode from him. Ha’star went away. Eventually he took a ragged breath and was surprised to find Chiss still there. “Still here?” he said hoarsely. “Haven’t run?”

  “No, my lord, why would I run?” Chiss held up a narrow hand. “Because you are within a fingernail’s width of losing control? Trust yourself, my lord. You will not hurt me or Hon Kirian.”

  The thought that he could hurt Kirian had not occurred to him. He shuddered and ran through the invocation to Jashan in his mind. When the Healer appeared, he had himself under tight control. He let Chiss run through the explanation. Then Kirian sat down on a wooden stool and scooted it towards him. She made no move to touch him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry. I was rude.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You are fighting a battle.” She looked at him a moment. Callo wondered if she and Chiss could feel the pressure building up behind his wall, the energy trying to get out.

  Chiss nodded at them and began to walk toward the door.

  “No!” Callo said. “Don’t go. You need to stay and protect her.”

  Chiss looked at Kirian, who shook her head. Chiss said, “You will do that, my lord.” He left the room.

  “Demons of hell! Don’t you realize what danger you are in?”

  Kirian said, “You would not hurt a Healer. My lord, relax. Relax your shoulders, here . . .” Her hand soothed his clenched muscles.

  He dared not relax. He said so.

  “No, my lord,” she said. “You cannot keep up this tension. You can struggle to contain a force of that immensity until your strength gives out. The force will win in the end. This rigid control is not the way to handle it.”

  “You are no color mage.”

  “Lord Arias, your half brother. He does not spend his life in this strain.”

  His muscles were beginning to shake. “He’s had—years of training. I am just—a container for this magery. Never trained. Just a gods-damned—breeding experiment.”

  “You have done very well so far. Now, my lord, relax.”

  Fire etched his hands, and his vision started to tinge red. He felt a compulsion to stand and let it loose, and destroy whoever got near him. Then he remembered who was next to him—Kirian, with her rebellious short hair, who had gone to Ha’las and been imprisoned because of him. He took a deep breath, said a silent prayer to Jashan, and eased his inner barrier, just a little, just a little . . .

  She inhaled a deep breath.

  “What?”

  “The color magery. It’s all around you, washing up the bulkhead like it did when Lord Arias was Collared. It’s beautiful. Go on. Relax.”

  He eased his shoulders. Her warm hands, making small circles on his skin—when had she started stroking his skin?—made it easier. He felt the redness in his field of vision ease. Looking around the cabin, he saw it filled with skeins of multicolored light. Her hands were warm, pressing on his skin, sliding against him. He began to feel another sort of strain as arousal made itself felt. She leaned forward; he felt her warm, soft roundness pressed up against his back. He groaned.

  “The color magery is beautiful. There is a sting in the air from it. Can you feel it?” Kirian whispered.

  Callo supposed he could feel the sting. Next to the agony he was experiencing, it felt like a gentle breeze. His headache eased. Light writhed in his mind, but it was gentler now, something he could live with. Kirian came around in front of him. She said something, but between the color magery and his headache—and his arousal—he could not make out the words. He leaned forward and kissed her, a rough kiss, his hands pulling her toward him. She smiled at him and kissed him back. He reached for her.

  “Now,” he said. The fire in his mind and his body echoed and enhanced each other.

  “Gods, yes,” she said. She embraced him. His hand slid around her, pulling her close, pulling at her tunic, sliding under her clothing to feel the warmth of her skin. The color magery was damped down, yet he felt it fueling his desire. He pulled her down on the bedroll with him, and forgot the rest of the world.

  * * * * *

  It was another full day until Callo felt he could face going ashore. His mind still felt raw, and Jashan’s ritual only helped a little. He wondered how he would come to terms with the energies that he would have to live with from now on.

  He sat with his three companions the morning of the second day and told them what he planned. Kirian argued with him until she was red in the face and then stalked off in a rage. Ha’star accepted his plans without comment; the scarred Ha’lasi warrior was making plans to return to Ha’las and to his unit. Chiss said nothing. It might be only Callo’s imagination that his manservant seemed troubled about something.

  He caught up with Kirian after the noon meal. She sat at the stern with her shoes off, looking at the shoreline.

  “Still upset?” he asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “It was you who made me see that Arias is just as much a victim as—as Eyelinn, even.”

  “I’m sorry I said it. You have no business going right into SeagardCastle. You’ll be killed. I thought you would meet him elsewhere.”

  “He won’t leave the Castle for that long.” He sat down next to her and lay back, looking up at the cloud-studded sky. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. I know you fear that Arias will punish you for all of this.”

  “Lord Mikati blinded Hon Ruthan. They’re all the same, these righ – they don’t brook dissent. Or disobedience.”

  He ignored the insult. “Don’t come, then. I wouldn’t ask you to. I can have Chiss get you to safety. My estate—probably is not mine anymore, but I have loyal people there who would shelter you. Or you could return to Sugetre, to the College. You could go to friends of mine, in Leyland – there is safety there.”

  “No.”

  The sun emerged from behind a cloud. Callo closed his eyes, seeing for an instant a bright hot afterimage that reminded him of the color magery. “What, then?”

  She turned to him. “Don’t go. Something will happen.” He opened his eyes and looked into hers. He had never heard her sound that way before, even in the prison in Las’ash.

  “Sweetheart, don’t worry.” He smoothed her hair back; it was short again. Ha’star, having acceded to her demands, had cut it the previous day. Callo thought its rather harsh look made her skin appear even smoother, her eyes softer.

  “How can I help it? Lord Arias is no longer any friend of yours, no matter what he was before. The Collar rules him. You are a ku’an, Callo. He will slay you.”

  “I am not completely helpless.”

  That drew a laugh out of her, but she grew serious again. “He is a trained color mage. And a swordsman, is that not so?”

  “Arias is very good with the sword.”

  “Well, then. Do not go. He also has a castle full of armed men at his bidding.�
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  “I do not remember you ever preaching caution to me before.”

  “You have not ever been so foolish.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. Especially not for the last season or two.” Callo sighed and rested his weight on his elbow, his other hand curving around her waist. “Kirian love, I abandoned Arias. I didn’t see it that way at the time, but I do now. You yourself said the Collar was like being under the influence of a ku’an.”

  “I’m sorry I ever said it,” she grumbled.

  “He was enslaved by the King against his will. He never wanted to be Collared. His family wished it, as do all the noble righ, but he was a spirit of his own. He only got away with it because it kept him in the line of succession. So now, he does something foolish and the King Collars him. The least I can do for my half-brother, who is also my friend, is to try to free him from that, now that I have the ability.”

  There was a short silence.

  “He will not thank you for the attempt,” Kirian finally said.

  “He will if I succeed. I think I have a good chance, Kirian – I am a ku’an and a color mage now too. How can I fail?” His spirits were light, and he felt a vast relief now that he realized what he needed to do.

  “You can’t even light a fire with your magery,” Kirian said. “You have no skill, only raw power.”

  He grinned at her, trying to pull her out of her foreboding mood. “Many thanks for your faith in me.”

  She elbowed him in the side and he fell back with a mock grunt of pain. Then she fell back next to him, her arm embracing him, her voice rough. “Callo, I know you do not feel as I do. But I could not bear to lose you.”

  “You won’t lose me. Have courage, sweet Kirian. This is not like you.” He caressed her hair as she clung to him, and after a while he coaxed her face nearer so he could kiss her sweet lips, but she buried her face in his shoulder so he could not reach her. Then, lying half in the sun and considering how best to accomplish his plan, he became steadily more relaxed by the sun and the feeling of Kirian warm against his side until he dozed off. When he awakened, she was gone.

  * * * * *

  Kirian knocked on the door and stood there. Ha’star waited in hiding around the corner, not wanting to alarm anyone until Kirian smoothed the way for him. Moonlight silvered the weathered planks of the house and illuminated the froth on the waves as they curled up the strand. There was no activity in the village; it was very late.

  Kirian knocked again and eventually heard a shuffling noise. “Who is it?” asked a querulous voice. “Who’s ill?” The door opened to reveal Ruthan, clutching a blanket around herself, her white eyes ghostly in the moonlight.

  “Kirian!” Ruthan whispered. “Welcome, welcome! Come in here, girl!” She grabbed Kirian’s forearm and pulled her into the house. “Are you all right? Where have you been?” The old woman coughed. “Ah, it was a hard winter without you.”

  “Ruthan, someone is with me,” Kirian said. She beckoned to Ha’star, who slid out of the shadows like a cat.

  “Not that Inmay, I hope,” Ruthan said. “More trouble than he’s worth, that one. They combed this area for days, even went into the old caves. Who’s this?”

  “I am honored, Hon Healer,” Ha’star said, bowing like a nobleman.

  Kirian’s mouth quirked at that but she said, “Ruthan, this is Ha’star, a friend. He is a Ha’lasi warrior, but he helped us get back here.”

  “If you’re my girl’s friend, you’re mine,” Ruthan said, coughing again. “Come in, both of you. I take it that’s all? No slave girls or renegade Healers? No armed search party? Just a Ha’lasi warrior? My life had no excitement until you came here, Kirian.” The old woman went back into the house, lit a couple of lamps, and sat in her chair. Kirian thought she looked frail, as if the winter had indeed been hard on her health. She knelt beside the chair and took Ruthan’s hand, holding it briefly to her own cheek. The gnarled hand was cold and trembled slightly.

  “Ha’star, could you light the fire?” Kirian asked. “Ruthan, are you ill?”

  “No, just old. Maybe a little ill. The sea air, even in the summer—it’s hard on my bones. But you are all right! I can see, you are healthy to your bones.”

  “May I make you some tea?”

  “Yes. You always did take care of me. I am glad to see you—it is a bit of a shock, at night like this . . .”

  “I thought I should avoid the Alkirani,” Kirian said. “Of course, with Ha’star here . . .”

  “He looks as if he could well protect you.” The fire flared up, and Ruthan closed her eyes. “Ah, thank you, Ha’lasi warrior. Sit.”

  Ha’star sat on the floor, next to the fire, and tended it as the flame grew. “Thank you for your welcome, Hon Ruthan. Hon Kirian told me about you.”

  “What happened after I left, Ruthan?” Kirian asked, pouring hot water into a cup. “I know one of the search party was killed. Did Lord Arias – do anything?”

  “Thank the Unknown God, he spared all of us. It was obvious the slave girl killed the guard—they searched the caves for days but couldn’t find either of them. He was down here . . .”

  “Himself?”

  “Himself. With sparks flying, angry as he was. Wanted to know where you were—had you helped them—that kind of thing. But in the end, he sent Jiriman back to Fortress Mount with apologies. And left us alone.”

  Kirian gave a cup to Ruthan and one to Ha’star. “I worried.”

  “I told you I’d be safe. But I’m glad you ran, sweating. If he had found you—I hate to think.”

  “Lord Callo—have you heard any news about him?”

  Ruthan’s shrewd eyes were on Kirian’s. “I thought you might know of that. He vanished from the Castle right about when you left.”

  “What did Lord Arias do?”

  “I haven’t a notion. They were all wrapped up in this other business, about your friend Inmay. And there was a delegation here, from Leyland. I know a fast messenger was sent to Sugetre, but what happened after . . .” Ruthan shrugged.

  Ha’star poked at the fire, which now crackled vigorously. He stood, still sipping tea. Ruthan looked at his scarred face, at his sheathed sword and the knife at his belt, and shook her head. “You have a story to tell me, I can see.” She cackled. “A Ha’lasi warrior! And you know something of the bastard lord; I can see that too.”

  The term stung. “You mean, Lord Callo.”

  “Lord Callo, yes. Tell me your story in the morning, youngling. I am weary tonight. Simah birthed her third yesterday, a long battle it was, and the little one weak and blue when she finally was born. And Gru drinking and moaning outside the door the whole time as if he was dying. So I am not up to long stories, although I almost can’t wait—you have the look of adventure about you; that you do!”

  Kirian smiled. She was glad to see Ruthan, glad to see the firelight warming the old lined face. “I will tell you in the morning. Thank you for your welcome. How are the others, up at the Castle?”

  “In a snit again. Too high-tempered, the lot of them. Though this time—the concubine Shala Si has done it after all, Kirian. Managed to get herself pregnant. Gods know how she avoided the herbs I had mixed with her food! Three moons along and just told Lord Forell. He hauled me up to the Castle to take a look at her. She looks like a peach.”

  “She always did,” Kirian said, remembering the round, voluptuous woman she had seen on her first visit to SeagardCastle.

  “Sira Joah wants the baby aborted. I wouldn’t do it so far along—might kill the concubine, too—so now she wants it exposed after birth.”

  “Why?” Kirian stared.

  “It’s half-righ, half-common. It will have the color magery—I saw it—but will never be able to be Collared. A half-breed.”

  “Unknown God, what is wrong with those people?”

  “They’re nobles,” Ruthan said.

  “Idiots,” Ha’star said from the fire.

  “Lord Forell has had an attack of fatherl
y honor—drank ‘til he was brave enough and went to ask Arias as the head of the family to let the infant live. Shala Si cried all over his shoulder and refused him her bed, I think—that’s why he disturbed his peace. Sira Joah threatened to expose the brat herself.”

  “Gods, what a mess,” Ha’star said, shaking his head.

  “So, what did Lord Arias say?” Kirian asked.

  Ruthan cackled. “We’ll never know. Sira Joah went and referred it to the King, since he was there anyway.”

  A spear of ice went down Kirian’s spine. Ha’star stood up, looking at her. Kirian said slowly, “Ruthan—do you mean King Martan is there now?”

  “Why, yes—he’s to perform young Ewal’s Collaring tomorrow.” Ruthan’s white eyes went from Kirian’s face to Ha’star’s grim expression. “Why?”

  Kirian looked at Ha’star. “He’ll see the King’s banner. He won’t go in if he knows the King is there.”

  “It’s dark,” Ha’star said. “He’s not going to see any banner at the top of the cursed castle in the dark.”

  “He’ll notice the extra guardsmen, won’t he?”

  Ha’star shrugged. “Depends. He’s not going to parade through the main hall. He’ll try to avoid seeing anyone. He’s slipping past the guards. I don’t think he’ll know.”

  “All the gods,” Kirian said.

  Ruthan was watching them. “Well?”

  “Ruthan, we have to go,” Kirian said in a rush. “Lord Callo is trying to get in to see Lord Arias tonight. I think his life is in danger from the King. I am so sorry—but I have to go.”

  “Mistake. Getting wrapped up with kings and nobles. What’s it to us?”

  “Oh, I know, I know. I can’t help it. Ruthan, I’ll be back. Thank you, Ruthan, thank you. Ha’star, I hope you’re a climber. This is going to be wonderful, trying to get up the cliff path at night.” As she spoke, she tightened her shoelaces and belted her cloak tighter about her.

  “Come back alive, now,” grumbled Ruthan, pulling the blanket around her. “I won’t sleep all night.”

  Ha’star gave her that incongruous nobleman’s bow again, clearly showing her great respect. “I will bring her back. My thanks, Hon Ruthan.”