by Amy Raby
Nalica, on the other hand, appeared to be a serious threat. He couldn’t let her beat him, not with that city guard job on the line. He took up his next arrow and prepared to put it down the middle of the wand.
“Loose.”
He loosed. He watched his arrow’s flight, and when it sliced through the wand, sending a broken shard of wood spinning through the air, he leapt up with a shout of triumph. The crowd roared their approval. He’d done it!
He turned to see how Nalica had fared this time. She’d only just loosed her arrow. He followed its flight and watched in horror as it buried itself in the fresh wand the officials had laid upon her target. The crowd cheered louder than ever. Two competitors had split the wand in a single round—this was unprecedented.
Justien frowned. He was not at all happy to be sharing the honor, especially since this was Nalica’s second wand in the competition, and only his first. What use was splitting the wand if his competitor did the same? She was still ahead of him in points.
“Archers ready.”
Justien’s final two shots were disappointing, both hits but nowhere near the wand. Nalica had flustered him. Fortunately, Nalica did not split the wand a third time, but, like him, she landed her final two shots, and with four hits and two wands, she’d won the round. Justien was in second place with five hits and one wand, and Caellus was in third with six hits.
The crowd cheered. Justien knew most of the cheers were for Nalica. He’d split the wand, but she’d done it twice. In the spectators’ eyes, that made her twice as good.
There was no awards ceremony, since this was only the first round of competition. The crowd drifted away to seek other entertainments. The official who’d taken their riftstones returned and handed the stones back to the competitors. Though the stones looked similar, each war mage could easily pick out his own. A mage of any kind could sense his riftstone through the fragment of his soul that was embedded in it. As the competitors draped their riftstones around their necks, the captain of the city guard, Felix Hadrianus, came forward to congratulate them. He spoke first with Caellus. Then he came to Justien and clasped his wrist. “Excellent shooting.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Justien, inclining his head. If he won the competition, he’d be working for this man.
“And with no magic,” added Felix. “I can see you’d be a fine addition to the guard.”
“I hope to prove that to you,” said Justien.
The captain moved on to Nalica. “What a show you gave us! That was a piece of luck, splitting the wand twice.”
Justien watched her out of the corner of his eye. If she’d split the wand once, that might have been luck. But twice? That was skill. Would she dare correct the captain, given that he was judging the contest?
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
Apparently she wouldn’t. Well, he wouldn’t have done it either. But that had to rankle, having her feat of skill attributed to luck. He waited to hear the captain say she’d be a fine addition to the guard, but after clasping her wrist, he simply walked away.
In response, she looked almost impassive, but a tiny line appeared in her forehead, an indication of worry perhaps, or hurt feelings.
His resentment faded, and he began to feel a little sorry for her. It must be hard being a woman and a war mage, and having even her extraordinary accomplishments minimized. But pity was a luxury he could not afford. He needed this job, and he was going to have to shoot better tomorrow and the next day. Her problems were her own to solve, and he had a family to support.
“That was good shooting,” said Caellus as he passed, clapping Justien on the shoulder. “Too bad you couldn’t outperform the girl.”
“I’ll grant that you were less terrible than usual,” said Justien.
Caellus snorted and strode off with his bow on his back.
Justien met Nalica’s eyes. It was considered good form to congratulate one’s opponent, but envy choked his throat. He managed a curt nod in her direction and walked away.
3 Sage’s Day
It was lonely being a woman and a war mage. Nalica had enjoyed her triumph last night, but she’d been the only one to celebrate it. Justien, on the other hand, seemed to have an easy camaraderie with the other archers. She envied that, knowing it was something she’d likely never possess. She tried to make friends, but most men simply didn’t accept her. They fell into two categories: those who avoided her because they didn’t know how to act around a woman like her, and those who actively harassed her.
And then there was Justien. He didn’t seem to belong in either of those categories. But after her win last night, he wouldn’t be friendly anymore. He’d liked her when he’d thought she wasn’t serious competition. Now he knew better.
Never mind; she wasn’t here for companionship. She was here to win that city guard job. She had to get that job. It might not mean acceptance from her peers, but it would at least mean a permanent position and a steady income. She could pay her mother back. And if she could stay in one place for a while, perhaps she might eventually make some friends who didn’t think it was strange for a woman to be a war mage.
It was early morning on Sage’s Day. The blue streamers for Vagabond’s Day had been taken down and replaced with white ones for the Sage. The merchants’ tents and food tents remained as they had been, but the whiskey stands had disappeared. The gaming area had been broken down and rebuilt to host a Caturanga tournament, some sort of musical competition, and a pyrotechnic exhibition.
The most important event of Sage’s Day, at least for the typical festival attendee, was the Absolution. An enormous statue of the Sage had been erected in the center of the festival grounds, and stationed around it were dozens of small tents. If you had wronged somebody, you were to go into one of the tents, sprinkle yourself with consecrated water, and ask for the Sage’s Absolution.
Nalica, who had never been particularly religious, avoided the Absolution. Instead, she browsed the merchants’ tents, stopping at one to examine panes of colored window glass.
An electric sensation prickled on her neck. Turning, she saw Justien leaning against a post across the way. Despite the little frisson of excitement she felt at seeing him, she found herself disinterested in approaching. He obviously resented her success in the tournament, since he hadn’t congratulated her last night.
Ignoring him, she walked from the window glass tent to one exhibiting jewelry. The pieces were made from inexpensive stones and materials, but were artful nonetheless. Though she had no money to spend, she looked through the offerings.
Justien stepped up beside her. She considered walking away, but that felt like ceding him ground. If she wanted to examine jewelry, then pox it, she was going to examine jewelry.
Justien touched a necklace with a round blue stone. “This would look nice on you.”
“It’s not my color,” said Nalica.
“Oh? Which one would you choose?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she pointed to a necklace with a yellow stone.
“Ah, like your war mage’s topaz.” He caught the merchant’s eye. “What type of stone is that?”
“Citrine,” said the merchant. “A rare variety from Riorca. You rarely see color like that on this kind of stone. Try it.”
Justien lifted the necklace from the table. “Let’s see how it looks.”
She shook her head. “I can’t afford it.” Maybe she could later, if she got the city guard job. But not now.
“We’ll just look,” said Justien.
He circled behind her, lifted her hair, and placed the necklace on her collarbone. Nalica swallowed. She barely noticed the necklace. His hand was on her neck, surprisingly gentle despite the man’s strength and size.
He leaned around to see how the necklace looked from the front. “You’re right. That is your color.”
“I don’t want it.” She took the necklace off, placed it back on the table, and walked away.
He ran after her. “Please don�
�t run off. I was rude last night. I apologize.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.” She hurried her steps, hoping that would discourage him.
“But I do—it was a sin of omission,” said Justien. “I ought to have acknowledged your performance last night, but I missed the mark. So I’ll do it now. Congratulations on your victory.”
It was amazing how markedly a few words could affect her. Weak in the knees, she stopped walking and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. The crowd had cheered for her last night, but her fellow archers hadn’t been so enthusiastic. And neither had the captain of the guard, who’d attributed her two best shots to luck. It meant a lot to have a peer she respected express appreciation for her skill. “Thank you. And congratulations to you too.”
“You shot better than I,” said Justien. “I wish I’d said so last night. I’m afraid that at the time I was consumed with envy.”
She snorted. “You don’t envy me.”
“I did last night,” said Justien. “All of us did. I’ve never split the wand twice in a round.”
Nalica had done it before many times in practice, but she would not say so. “You split it once, and you hadn’t a single sin.”
“If the competition were not so strong, that would have been enough,” said Justien.
Nalica frowned. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? He acknowledged her ability, but he also resented it, because he didn’t want to lose the tournament. “I suppose we cannot be friends,” she said. “You want this job in the city guard, and so do I.”
“I need that job,” said Justien.
“So do I,” said Nalica.
“May I make a suggestion?”
“What?” she asked warily. He’d better not ask her to throw the tournament so that he could win. She wouldn’t let anyone take this prize from her.
“I know we both want the city guard job,” said Justien. “We want it badly, and only one of us will have it. But we don’t know yet who’s going to win it, so let’s be friends. I promise to congratulate you if you win. And if I win, you’ll congratulate me. We’ll be happy for one another whatever happens. What do you say?”
That sounded difficult, especially if he ended up being the winner. But it would be nice to have a friend, if only for a couple of days. She reached over and clasped his wrist. “That sounds fair.”
He took her hand, and they strolled through the fairgrounds. Merchants barked their wares, but she paid them no mind. Her senses were full of Justien: his great presence by her side, the heat of his body, his callused hand in hers.
They’d come to the center of the festival grounds. Ahead loomed a painted bronze statue of the Sage in his robe, holding his familiar, a white fox. Guards in orange uniforms were all over the place. She counted over thirty of them, and they weren’t the Riat City Guard. Several of them were women, which surprised and delighted her. Perhaps some were war mages.
“Justien.” She nudged him. “Who are those guards?”
He turned in the direction she was looking and stiffened. “Oh—those are Legaciatti. Let’s clear out.” He took her arm and led her in the other direction.
“Legaciatti. You mean the emperor’s personal guard?”
Justien nodded. “The emperor and empress perform an absolution at the Triferian every year. They must be here now, or perhaps they will be soon, and the guards are preparing the way for them.”
She glanced back. “The emperor and empress are here at the festival?”
“Yes, they come every year for a few events. Best to stay away from their guards. We don’t want trouble.”
The tiny hope that had leapt within her at seeing an organization with women warriors in it faded now that she understood she could never join it. The Legaciatti were all orphans, recruited and trained for their roles from early childhood, to ensure their loyalty to the imperial throne. It would be nice if she could at least stay and talk with them. But if they were on duty, and clearly they were, that wouldn’t be permitted.
To avoid the crowd, she and Justien entered a covered stable of horses on exhibit, many of them for sale. They walked slowly, examining the horses’ nameplates as they passed.
“Is it hard being a woman and a war mage?” Justien asked.
“Very hard,” she blurted, and then regretted it. He didn’t need to hear her whine about her problems.
“People treat you badly?”
She shrugged. “Not physically. Sometimes I get ugly comments. Mostly I’m just ignored. The mercenary troop accepted me, because they were my clan. They’d known me since I was little. But in southern Kjall it’s different.”
“We’re different,” said Justien. “Much as we try, we don’t fit in here.”
Nalica nodded. “I’m different twice over. Once for being a woman war mage, and again for being eastern. Back at home I had more suitors than I knew what to do with, but the men here don’t find me appealing.”
“They’re fools,” said Justien. “And I’ll tell you something. Some of those southern women look so fragile I’d be afraid of breaking them.”
Nalica smiled and glanced at him sidelong. “I don’t break easily.”
He looked at her intently, and she knew that the two of them were thinking the same thing. Could they have a festival romance? Would it affect their performances tonight and the night after? What would happen at the end of the tournament, when one of them won and the other didn’t?
While many easterners took a dim view of casual romances, southern Kjallans did not. Brief affairs were common here among unmarried men and women, and she’d indulged in a couple of them herself. But this was different. She and Justien were competitors. No matter what, this was going to end badly.
“Halt.” A guard stepped away from the wall and blocked their path. “This is a restricted area.”
Nalica stopped. “I thought these horses were on exhibit.”
“Those horses are on exhibit.” The guard waved at the aisle they’d just come down. “These are not.” He waved at the ones in the aisle they were about to enter. “These are the horses racing tomorrow.”
“Oh, you mean like Honeycatcher and Vagabond’s Dart.” She stretched up to see over the guard’s shoulder. The stalls weren’t all full; in fact most were empty. There appeared to be three empty stalls between each horse. She spotted a dark head peering over the stall door. “Is that Vagabond’s Dart?”
“He’s in the other building,” said the guard.
“Hey,” called a man from just down the aisle. “Aren’t you the archers from the tournament last night?”
Nalica took one look at him and thought, money. He was well groomed and dressed in a fine silk syrtos.
The newcomer approached the guard and said, “Leave them be, Tullian. These are the competitors from last night. One of them will be joining your number soon.”
As Tullian moved aside, Nalica noticed the Riat City Guard emblem on his shoulder.
“My name is Philo,” said the well-dressed man. “You two shot very well.”
“Thank you,” said Nalica.
Justien echoed the sentiment.
“Were you here to see the racehorses?” asked Philo.
“We’re just passing through,” said Justien.
“I’ll show you my horse if you’d like.”
Nalica shrugged and then nodded. Why not?
Philo led them nine stalls down the aisle to a chestnut who poked his head over the stall door. “This is Honeycatcher.”
“Oh,” said Justien, sounding impressed. “You own Honeycatcher?”
“Indeed. Imported him from Sardos.” Philo stroked the animal’s nose. “You can pet him if you like. He’s kind.”
As Nalica reached for the chestnut’s nose, the horse pushed its head into her hands. She stroked his bony face and soft muzzle. Justien’s hand reached up beside hers and did the same.
“He’s delightful,” said Nalica.
The owner beamed. “I’ve never seen a stallion with su
ch a fine temperament. He loves people, and he loves to run.”
“Is he going to win tomorrow?” asked Justien.
“Absolutely,” said the owner. “He’s faster than Dart. And he throws foals with kind temperaments.”
“Dart’s reputed to be nasty,” said Justien.
“Bites and kicks, yes,” said the owner. “I don’t care how fast he is, no good can come of breeding a vicious horse. Top riders can handle him, sure. But what about the foals he sires who don’t become racehorses? They’ve got to get along with people.”
“Well, I hope Honeycatcher wins.” Nalica wasn’t an experienced horsewoman, and because of that she sympathized with what the man was saying. She’d had to ride ill-mannered, uncooperative horses on more than one occasion, and those were not experiences she wanted to repeat.
“He will,” said the owner. “And one of you had better win tonight. I’ll be watching.”
She and Justien thanked him.
Nalica could see daylight at the other end of the stable, and the guard who’d stopped them before was now leaning against the wall, looking disinterested. They could go out this way and save themselves a long walk back along the aisle.
Justien took her hand and led her in that direction, past the remaining racehorses. “The run for the Imperial Plate is this evening, after the tournament,” he said. “Want to watch it with me? The emperor and empress will be there.”
The emperor and empress of Kjall—that would be a sight. But she probably shouldn’t spend more time with Justien. Who knew how they’d feel about each other after the second round of competition? And especially the third. “I’ll think about it.”
A man came out of the tack room just ahead. Justien and Nalica veered to avoid him. Then Justien stopped suddenly and held out his arm. “Captain Felix.”
The man blinked as if startled. He clasped wrists with Justien, but the look on his face was blank and uncomprehending.
“I’m from the archery tournament,” prompted Justien.
The captain’s face lit in recognition, and he relaxed. “Oh, right.” He nodded at Nalica. “Justien and Nalica, two of our best archers in the competition. You’re going to give us a good show tonight, I hope.”