by Ian Gregoire
Kayden allowed herself a smug little snicker.
“I guess Master Darrian had a word in Master Briselda’s ear, because the next morning she accosted me on my way to the mess hall for breakfast. She was none too pleased when she told me I would be taking the tests during the holiday, and advancing to level seven at the start of the second term if I passed.
“So there you have it, Master. That’s how I came to be a level seven apprentice two years ahead of time.” What could he say to question that?
Flashing her a knowing smile, Ari said, “Would it interest you to learn it was Master Fay who, on both occasions, authorised your advancement—breaking several decades’ worth of convention despite the objections of a number of her colleagues?” Kayden’s surprised expression prompted him to add, “Surely you can’t have believed Darrian Lanza was responsible for your early progression, did you?”
“Why would she do that?”
“That is the question,” Ari answered jovially. “Hardly the actions of a woman intent on sabotaging you, wouldn’t you say?”
Kayden didn’t say anything. She had no grounds for contradicting Ari’s words. On some level she realised it was unlikely her advancement could have occurred without Fay’s consent. That would explain why she convinced herself Master Darrian had played a crucial role in forcing the administrator’s hand.
The more she learned about Fay Annis, the more enigmatic the woman became.
“So…what is your hurry, Kayden?”
On the surface, Ari’s question should have been innocuous, yet it sounded anything but to Kayden’s ear. “I’m sorry, Master. I’m not sure what you mean.” She was suddenly feeling discomfited by his prying.
“I’m curious to know why you are in such a rush to be inducted into the Order. Do you have some time-sensitive plans I’m not aware of?”
Master Ari was clearly digging now. Did he suspect her true motivation? How could he have any suspicions about her hidden agenda? It didn’t matter. She simply couldn’t afford to tell Ari what he wanted to know. Honesty in this instance would guarantee her expulsion and the binding of her Zarantar, quite possibly jeopardising her very reason for living. And though she could feasibly still achieve her aim without joining the Order—using skills she had acquired that couldn’t be stripped from her—becoming a Sanatsai was too important a component of how she sought to accomplish her ultimate objective, so under no circumstances was she prepared to sacrifice that.
With barely a second thought, Kayden decided to provide Ari with an answer that was tangential to the reason for her determination to complete her training as swiftly as possible. At least that way she could avoid telling an outright lie.
“I have no time-sensitive plans, Master,” she began forthrightly. “I just have a strong desire to protect people who cannot defend themselves. Being a Sanatsai will allow me to that in ways I could only have dreamed of before my Zarantar manifested.”
“I see,” replied Ari. Was that acceptance of her answer? “That is certainly a worthy goal, Kayden. So, would I be right to assume you were neither upset nor fearful on the day your Zarantar manifested?”
“Upset or fearful?” Kayden blurted, incredulously. “You must be joking. Why would I have been?”
“Because that is the universal reaction of people who discover they were born imbued with the Zarantar of the Sanatsai,” he claimed. “Which is only natural. The gift always manifests in adolescence, between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, and for people of such tender years the implications of that change are difficult to cope with. It is well known throughout the Nine Kingdoms that once Zarantar manifests in any individual, the Order will arrive soon after. Young people are understandably upset by the prospect of being taken away from their family for ten years. Not to mention many of them invariably find the weight of possessing such great power a tremendous burden to carry.
“So…if you felt none of those things, Kayden, how did you feel when your Zarantar manifested?”
There was no need to think about her answer to that question. Kayden remembered the moment as if it occurred only yesterday.
“I was absolutely elated, Master,” she said, trying but failing to keep the glee out of her voice. “I couldn’t wait for the Order to show up and take me away. Nothing was more important than learning to control my new found power.”
Master Ari glanced sideways at her. “Interesting.”
There was something about the way Ari uttered that single word that let Kayden know she had answered his question in a manner that displeased him. If that was the case she found the reaction incomprehensible. Surely excitement and enthusiasm for becoming an apprentice of the Order was actually a good thing?
“Meaning no disrespect, Master,” she began, “but your underwhelming response suggests I’ve answered your question incorrectly.”
“The truth is never the wrong answer, Kayden,” Ari replied sagely. “But if you ask any Sanatsai of the Order how they felt in the aftermath of their Zarantar manifesting for the first time, elation will not be among the answers.”
“You make it sound as though my being pleased was a bad thing, Master; I don’t understand why.”
There was a prolonged silence before Ari answered. “During your history lessons you learned how Sanatsai were trained in the days before the founding of the Order, yes?”
“Yes, Master,” said Kayden, unsure what that had to do with anything. “When a young Sanatsai’s Zarantar manifested, a single Jaymidari would arrive a few days later to take that person under her wing. They would then disappear into the wilderness together until the Sister had taught her new charge how to control his or her Zarantar. Once accomplished, they would live out their days wandering the lands together, hunting down practitioners of Zarantar Najist wherever they were to be found. In those days, we Sanatsai were the weapons used by the Sisterhood to kill the Saharbashi.” Kayden realised a simple yes would have sufficed, but there was no harm in demonstrating she had paid attention during history lessons. “Having said that, I fail to see how this is in any way relevant to what we’re discussing, Master.”
“Well, bear with me a little longer,” Ari said. “This collaboration between Sanatsai and Jaymidari was, for the most part, a successful venture. However, there were occasions when a very small minority of Sanatsai became problematic to their Jaymidari guides. It was for this reason the Sisterhood would eventually adopt the practice of binding a Sanatsai’s Zarantar.”
The revelation was not something Kayden had learned in history class. “When you say ‘problematic’, Master, what exactly do you mean?”
“Some Sanatsai enjoyed the killing they were tasked with, took pleasure in it. For a small number of these individuals it ceased to matter who they were actually killing. In their warped view not only was their Zarantar something to be exploited for their own amusement and benefit; it also made them better than everyone else. Superior. It’s fair to say they failed to grasp the weight of responsibility they carried in wielding such great power.”
Was Master Ari actually insinuating she was like these people? I certainly seemed that way to Kayden.
“Master, why are you telling me all this?” she asked, failing to keep the indignation from her voice. “Surely you don’t believe I’m anything like the people you’ve just described.”
“It is a sad truth that those who crave and seek power, invariably abuse that power once they obtain it.”
Kayden resented Ari’s implicit accusation.
“I didn’t ask for my Zarantar,” she retorted, stopping in her tracks, prompting Ari to do likewise. “Nor did I seek to obtain it.”
“But you’re glad you possess it.”
She couldn’t deny that given what she had already said.
“You believe it makes you superior to others.”
She reluctantly held her tongue.
“You would never willingly give it up.”
Still she maintained her silence.
“A
nd, you would resist any attempt to bind your Zarantar.”
Kayden’s heart began to race. Why was Master Ari pressing her so forcefully?
“Master!” she snapped, barely keeping her anger in check. “Why are you trying to get me to incriminate myself? I would never kill…”
Kayden trailed off; she couldn’t risk being caught in a lie. She took a breath to compose herself—to speak more evenly.
“If I should ever have cause to take a life in the future,” she continued, “I would derive no pleasure from doing so.”
She looked away from Ari, turning her gaze towards the hills to the west.
“I’ve upset you. I apologise,” said Ari. He waited for Kayden to glance back at him. “Let’s keep walking. We can discuss something else.”
Ari resumed the trek northward and Kayden fell into step beside him, hoping she had the forbearance to resist any further attempts he might make to test her patience. Clearly his behaviour was all Fay’s doing. The administrator had no doubt orchestrated this whole situation because she was too much of a coward to take responsibility for the decision to bind Kayden’s Zarantar. Why do it herself when she could just as easily engineer a scenario that would lead to Master Ari making the decision instead? Well, Kayden had no intention of providing either of them with justification for pursuing that course of action.
“Earlier, you stated that your instructors don’t push you hard enough,” said Ari, conversationally. “But other than that, why don’t you tell me how you feel you are progressing at Antaris campus,”
“Truthfully, I don’t see how I could be doing much better, Master. I’m on course to complete the ten years of training in just seven, maybe even six years—which has never been done before. It would also make me the youngest person to be inducted into the Order. I’m already the most accomplished apprentice on campus, and not just in terms of the strength of my Zarantar. Both academically and vocationally I learn more quickly than anyone else, I study longer than anyone else, I train harder than anyone else. I don’t say this to boast.”
“Interesting,” Ari mused.
It was the second time Master Ari had uttered that word in a manner Kayden found indecipherable.
“That doesn’t sound like a compliment, Master,” quipped Kayden, her tone decidedly accusatory.
“It wasn’t a criticism,” Ari retorted. “I just meant… Well, if what you say is true, shouldn’t you be happy about it? You don’t look particularly happy.”
She glanced quizzically at Ari. “What do you mean, Master?”
“Well, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way but I don’t believe I’ve ever met a more miserable looking person in all my years.”
Kayden halted in her tracks yet again, pursing her lips.
“You’re trying to provoke me! Why?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Kayden,” said Ari, attempting to placate her. “But I assure you, it is not my intention to antagonise you or cause you offence, I’m just trying to understand you better. Unfortunately, time is not on our side. As a result, not only do I need to ask questions you might find impertinent, I’ll also have to forgo tactfulness in some of the things I say.”
“In that case, Master Ari,” Kayden struggled to suppress her simmering anger, “might I suggest you get to the point and just ask me whatever it is you want to know without further barbed insults, as nothing good will come of it.”
“As you wish.” He glanced up at the sky; the sun hung low in the west, turning the sky several shades of red and orange. “But let us keep moving, we have less than an hour’s daylight left.” He set off once more, continuing the trek northward.
Kayden stood her ground for a moment while Ari departed. She was no longer enjoying the excursion; she was feeling put upon. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t left Antaris campus, and was looking forward to going back. After a brief spell of contemplation she set off swiftly to catch up with Master Ari, falling into step alongside him.
“Master Fay wasn’t able to tell me a great deal about your background or history,” said Ari out of the blue after several minutes of silence. “I know you were living in Mirtana when you consented to the ten years apprenticeship, though you were born and raised in the Kingdom of Astana—which is obvious from your accent. I can also see you are of Vaidasovian extraction, so I assume your parents are migrants from Zenosha, is that correct?”
“Yes, Master.”
“How and why did your family come to settle in Astana?”
Kayden was taken aback. In her five years as an apprentice not one person had ever asked about her family. Even before then very few had inquired. She hesitated. “I can only tell you what my mother told me, Master.” Ari glanced at her expectantly so she continued. “My parents were forced to leave Zenosha before I was born, that’s why they travelled to Astana.”
“What do you mean, they were ‘forced to leave’?”
“Well…” Kayden realised she would have to provide some background detail for the story to make any sense. “Though I’ve never been to the empire myself, I was always taught that social mores in Zenosha—and throughout Vaidasovia generally—are stricter than those held by the people of the Nine Kingdoms. Intimate relations between unmarried couples are frowned upon, for example, so bearing a child out of wedlock is considered scandalous. It’s also the case that marriages are commonly arranged in Zenosha.
“To cut a long story short, my parents were not much older than I am now when they fell in love. But they were prohibited from marrying by their respective families. My father’s parents opposed their union on the grounds that they did not want their son marrying a woman of lesser social standing, while my mother’s parents objected on the grounds they had already arranged a suitable marriage for their daughter.
“In spite of these objections, my mother and father continued their illicit relationship, believing that in time their respective families could be persuaded to accept a union between them. However, before that time arrived my mother fell pregnant with me. In order to avoid the inevitable scandal that would have ensued if the pregnancy was discovered, my parents did the only thing they could do—they eloped. They married in secret before embarking on the journey across the mountains into Astana, to start a new life together. And that’s how my parents came to settle in the kingdom.”
Kayden glanced at Ari to gauge his reaction. He was staring directly ahead with a subtle smile on his face. She guessed he liked the story of how she came to be born and raised a subject of the Kingdom of Astana. If so, hopefully he wouldn’t ask how the tale ultimately ended. Why spoil the story?
“The cultures of Vaidasovia have traditionally been universal in their hostility to the existence of Zarantar, and those who wield it,” Ari commented. “I’m curious to know how your family reacted to the manifestation of your Zarantar. But more importantly, what was their response when you decided to become an apprentice rather than have your Zarantar bound.”
“The issue never arose. I no longer had any family.” Kayden ensured her reply was as matter-of-fact as she could manage. She didn’t wish to tip Ari off that the loss of her family was a sore subject for her. The last thing she wanted was for him to start prying deeper into the matter.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The note of surprise in Ari’s voice was obvious as he glanced sideways at Kayden. “Fay never mentioned you’re an orphan.”
“I don’t know for certain that I am, Master. I lost my mother when I was eleven years old, but my father abandoned my mother while I was still a baby. I have no idea if he’s dead or alive. I don’t know if I care either way—I have no memory of him.”
“So how did you come to be living in Mirtana without any family?”
The direction the conversation was moving in was beginning to make Kayden uncomfortable. “There was nothing keeping me in Astana after I lost my mother,” she said evasively. “As for how I ended up in Mirtana…it wasn’t by design, it’s just how circumstances transpir
ed. There’s no sense in boring you with the story, Master—it’s of no consequence.”
“But Mirtana is over six hundred miles away from Astana. That’s a long journey for someone so young to undertake.”
“As I said, it’s not important.” The edge that accompanied Kayden’s words spoke volumes. She wanted Ari to drop the subject immediately.
“Very well.”
Ari fell silent for a while. But it was a brief respite. Moments later he resumed the conversation, broaching the subject Kayden least wanted to discuss.
“Tell me about your mother, what was she like?”
The pregnant silence that followed the question was palpable. Kayden glanced to the west, staring blankly at nothing in particular.
“Mama was my whole world,” she murmured wistfully. “I could not have wished for a more loving, gentle, patient and selfless person to be my mother.” The strain in her voice betrayed how painful a topic it was for her to discuss. “I was truly blessed to be her daughter.”
“You mentioned your mother passed away when you were eleven years old.” Kayden instantly became fearful Master Ari would pry where he wasn’t welcome. “How did she die?” Her fear was justified. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Shifting her gaze to Ari, she said, “I’d rather not talk about it, Master.” The tone she affected reinforced the point.
“I respect that, Kayden,” replied Ari gently. “But I believe it would be tremendously beneficial for you to answer the question.”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”
“You need to tell me Kayden.”
Kayden stopped abruptly in her tracks once more, glaring at Ari as he halted alongside her. “What part of I don’t want to talk about it do you not understand?” she snapped, raising her voice.
“Tell me how your mother died.”
Ari continued to press her, seemingly oblivious to her state of agitation.