Kiwani turned her back to the balcony rail and the wide stone plaza beyond. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” She saw the collective concern on her friends’ faces. “If I can’t sort my feelings out, my magic won’t ever improve, let alone reach Bayan’s Savant proficiency. I’ll be doomed to potioneering for the rest of my life. I owe myself—I owe you—more than that.”
Calder slipped in next to her and pressed a small, heavy item into her hand. She looked down and saw a slender iron dagger in a dark leather sheath.
When she raised her eyebrows at him, Calder said, “Take it with you. Your magic’s shite right now, aye? You’ll be just another lass alone on the roads, an easy target.”
A weight landed on her shoulder, and wings brushed against her cheek. She flinched away from Kah’s feathers. The hexbird cocked his head and eyed her with his usual intense expression. “Kah!”
“I’ll miss you, too, Kah.” She offered the large black hexbird her hand as an alternate perch.
He dug his claws into her shoulder instead, bobbing his head at her. “Kah, kah!”
“He’s going with you,” Bayan said, looking at the bird.
“What?” Kiwani shot a quick glance at the bird, who tipped his head, unblinking. “But he lives here. In your room.”
Tarin tipped her head down in suspicion. A long red wave of hair fall across one eye. “Did you put the poor wee birdie up to this, Bayan?”
Bayan, shorter than either girl, shook his head and glanced up at Tarin. “No one can make hexbirds do something they don’t want to do. Or stop them from doing something they’ve set their minds to. Looks like you won’t be alone after all, Kiwani.”
She met the bird’s bright gaze. Kah bobbed his head rapidly up and down, as if in agreement and encouragement. “Then I’m a lucky girl.”
~~~
The heavy iron door was closing. Kipri Nayuuti stuck out his thorn-ripped hand and caught it, but not before it pinched his fingers against the jamb. Wincing and rubbing the hot pink line of pain against his cream-colored pants, the eunuch jogged along the central marble corridor in the Ministry of Ways, paying little mind to the larger-than-normal crowds.
“Of all the days to be late,” he muttered. His landlady, Gati, had terrible timing when it came to waxing the hallway outside Kipri’s door. He’d finally given up waiting for it to dry and scurried down the rose trellis outside his window, ripping both the skin on his hand and the hem of his ivory tunic on the thorns.
He skidded to a stop outside Philo’s office door. It wouldn’t do to burst in, panting like a tardy schoolboy, on the day he was to receive his first independent assignment. The thought of his hard-won achievement brought a smile to his face. There had been many times—entire years—when Kipri had despaired of ever being seen as anything more than the son of a filthy Aklaa rebel. Yet here he was, about to embark on his latest endeavor, having been highly recommended by both his former employer, Philo Sallas, and by Emperor Jaap himself.
Helping to foil a rebel assassination plot last spring might have had something to do with that.
His breathing under control, Kipri opened the door and entered Philo’s long, many-windowed office—the same one Philo had always occupied, though the title on the door had changed back in early spring. But his breath left again just as quickly. The large, oblong room was packed. Dozens of Ways eunuchs filled the far half of the room. More of them than ever before followed Philo’s fashion trend of wearing feminine wigs in various noble fashions and eye-catching hues. A handful of high-ranking ministers and various officials from Ways offices clustered near the front, where Philo’s large desk rested. At their center was Philo himself in mid-tale, bedecked in a high pink wig and a lace-trimmed cream tunic. Kipri recalled Philo’s story from the year he had served as Philo’s assistant, surveying the roads and landmarks of Balanganam. But in Philo’s version, the creek had been a small canyon, and the helpful young Balang boy who’d rescued Kipri from it was now a plump matron with decades of delectable cooking experience and a fervent desire to spread her angelic cooking to all she met. Kipri sighed helplessly; there was no changing Philo Sallas or his complete devotion to all things culinary.
Philo must’ve heard him; he stopped speaking, and all eyes turned toward Kipri.
Kipri gulped. “Good morning.” He gave his torn tunic an unobtrusive tug.
A figure he hadn’t seen amidst the crowd stood up from a chair directly to his left. “Good morning, Kipri,” said Emperor Jaap.
“Sire! Forgive me, I didn’t see—”
“It’s all right, Kipri. You’ve a lot on your mind. And I don’t mind disappearing from view now and again. Shall we begin?”
The ministers politely stepped back, giving Philo, Emperor Jaap, and Kipri the floor. The emperor nodded to Philo, who stepped forward, waving a plump, beringed hand in welcome.
“Thank you all for coming. It is always a pleasure to see a Kheerzaal eunuch take his first step into the world as an independent servant of the empire. Even more so when the assignment he receives is actually one at which he is competent.” High-pitched laughter dominated the room for a few moments. “Today, I am proud, and dare I say it, humbled, to be allowed to present my faithful assistant, Kipri Nayuuti, with his first independent assignment.
“You may notice,” Philo continued with a disarming smile, “that we have a frightfully important guest with us this morning. The emperor has been known to attend eunuch assignments in the past—indeed, he attended mine, no doubt to see if the rumors of my immense capacity for pastry consumption were true (they are)—but this assignment is especially dear to our emperor’s heart. He, in his ceaseless efforts to improve our great empire for its citizens, has created a shiny new post which will fill a gap in the lives of some of the empire’s most valued citizens, and thus improve the safety of all.”
Kipri felt his brows draw together in confusion. Philo hadn’t told him any of this. He’d always assumed the emperor would station him back home in Aklaa, perhaps as a political liaison. Sints knew that his beleaguered people could use one, after some of them—members of Kipri’s extended family included—had grown so frustrated with being repressed and ignored that they tried to assassinate the emperor. But the political liaison post already existed in Aklaa. Where was the emperor sending him?
“Kipri, my lad.” Philo rested a hefty pink hand on the slender eunuch’s shoulder. “Nothing in my life has made me prouder than the opportunity to present you with the title and office of Imperial Cultural Liaison to the Duelist Academy.”
An interested buzz momentarily drowned out the emperor’s applause, then everyone followed his lead. The emperor shook Kipri’s hand, followed by an eager string of toadying ministers whose names Kipri forgot in a haze of surprised wonder. An excited crowd of fellow crickets came next. They eunuchs smiled and fawned. In the face of the emperor’s obvious favor, none of them dared to call him “plum.”
Emperor Jaap excused himself from the gathering, citing an imminent need to take his older son, Sebastiaan, for a promised horseback ride. “On a real horse this time, though,” he added. “Even Juriaan is getting too heavy for my poor back, and Femke is threatening to ban me from further state dinners if I can’t sit in my chair without listing to the side. My congratulations again, Kipri, on your well-earned position.”
After the emperor departed, Kipri turned to Philo. “Paying Bayan’s expenses for the Duelist Academy was the best career move you could have made. Who knew that the dusty fellow you pulled from a hole in the ground would one day save the emperor’s life? But now you’ve got this network to construct. How will you ever manage the office of Minister of Information with just Gael and Cassander to assist you?”
Philo tittered. “My dear boy, this new position is simply rife with perks. Some of them are even edible. I could never let such a delicacy slip through my fingers. I’ll bribe vagrants into becoming my loyal Thirds if I must.”
Kipri was far from surprised at Philo’s sen
timent. After all, the lure of fine food and soft fabrics had been enough to convince Philo to give up the prospect of future children.
“And speaking of loyal eunuchs,” Philo said, “you must write me regularly. I want to hear all about your new position.” He took something dark and soft from a box on his desk and tugged it into place on Kipri’s head. Kipri reached up and felt a puffy wig covering his own hair. Philo, wearing a cheeky smile, held up a mirror. The wig’s style was only somewhat bouffant compared to others in the room, rising in a jaunty pompadour that matched his own hair color. Best of all, the wig was devoid of pearls, ribbons, lace, and anything else Philo-esque.
Kipri was well aware of the gift’s significance. The empire’s new Minister of Information had marked Kipri as his own. Kipri was to be part of Philo’s new information network, just like all the other bewigged eunuchs.
He also knew what his new assignment meant: he hadn’t earned this new position at all. It had been given to him because he was Aklaa, and for no other reason. His pride and happiness faded to ash, and the familiar acidic burn of betrayal churned in his guts.
Bayan’s words to the emperor after the palace battle have changed the empire. For the first time, Aklaa are being allowed to train at the Academy. But now I’m being sent to spy on that bright new future. I’m being sent to spy on my own people.
~~~
Bayan sat on a thick layer of brown pine needles that lined the forest floor and looked up amidst the towering trees as they creaked and swayed in the stiff wind that heralded the approach of autumn. A tight regret squeezed his chest as he thought of Kiwani, now absent from the hex, leaving what was intended to be a seamless team of six with only four members. Yes, her absence was only temporary, but Bayan couldn’t help remembering the traumatic way that Odjin had been ripped from their hex nearly a year ago. Doomed to stir a beaker for the rest of his life, since he hadn’t had the decency to die during his illegal duel. Bayan shook his head. The glories of duelism were many, but its dark side was never far from his mind.
If only he had thought to seek a sint before Kiwani had left. She’d mentioned visiting Sint Esme often enough, first in rage, then later in stubborn denial. Maybe, if he’d come out here earlier with his question, Kiwani wouldn’t have needed to leave. Bhattara knows Kiwani has plenty of emotion. The trick’s in getting it to blend with her magic. Bayan had managed it accidentally last year, but he couldn’t seem to explain his Savantism to his hexmates in a way that they could understand, let alone duplicate.
No sense in stalling. Bhattara na. The sint will say what the sint will say. He began to sing. It wasn’t a particular talent of his, but back home in Pangusay, feastdays were celebrated with a variety of songs, and he’d known the words to all of them before he’d been old enough to start his farm apprenticeship. Gerrolt the groundskeeper had told him that Sint Koos didn’t care what you sang or how well you sang it. Even Doc Theo, in his tone deafness, could please Koos with his toneless warbling.
The forest brightened perceptibly. Bayan’s skin pebbled in the presence of the ancient sint. He remembered that Calder had once referred to sints as “local gods.”
“I give you greeting, honored sint. I don’t know if you talk to the other sints around here or not, but Sint Esme knows what I am. I’m a Duelist Savant. She helped me to control my anger instead of letting it control me. But now I have a different problem. I’m not even sure if what I’m asking is possible—”
The faint light began to drift away. Worried he was boring the sint, Bayan hummed a quick melody, one he had used to entertain Imee in Pangusay a lifetime ago. The light returned.
“Please, is it possible to… to learn Savantism? To force an emotion to bond with one’s magic?”
An illusory leather cord appeared in the air before Bayan. A small, gleaming black cube of stone coalesced next, threading itself onto the cord. The makeshift necklace curled as if hanging around the neck of an invisible person, and a humanoid shape formed of light and air coalesced within it. The transparent figure performed all the magical spells that Bayan had ever learned, faster than was humanly possible. Faint echoes of the spells’ effects burst all around Bayan: earthquakes in the ground, firebursts in the air, windstorms amongst the trees. With each combination of the six sacred motions—arc, wedge, cross, circle, line, and wave—the body of the anonymous duelist became colored by the hue of the stone. It switched to Avatar spells, darkening with each casting. In mere minutes, it finished the last spell and stood between Bayan and the sint’s light. The shape was pitch black.
Bayan clenched his jaw, trying not to recoil from the menacing figure. Looking at the sint’s projection was like looking at his own soul, black and raging. Before he could gather his wits and say anything, both the sint and the black duelist image faded into nothingness.
Bayan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was biting back. His whole body shook with tension. As with the last time he’d begged aid from a sint, the experience had been unforgettable—and incomprehensible. He shook loose his tension and brushed off some clinging pine needles. I hope I don’t have to wait too long to figure out what this means.
Bayan hadn’t taken more than ten steps on the path from the steep stone stairs to Sint Koos’s cliff-top forest when a deep voice called his name. He recognized it as Cormaac’s. The older student was in a hex that had begun its training a semester earlier than Bayan’s, but while the members of Bayan’s hex were still noticeably improving in their training, Cormaac’s hex had begun to reach the upper limits of their ability, and rumors were spreading that they were going to start topping out and getting parceled out to duel dens across the empire for permanent assignment.
“You missed supper, Bayan. Headmaster Langlaren made an announcement that one member from each hex is supposed to be meeting now at the Great Hall. He read your name off; you’d better get over there.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I’m not there. And good luck getting a straight answer out of Taban if you wait too long and miss it all.”
As the taller student turned and walked away, Bayan headed for the Hall of Seals at what was commonly considered the “front” of the campus, where the road descended to the valley and the rest of the empire. It was nice, he thought, that so many of the students on campus treated him as one of their own. He wished he could believe it was because they genuinely liked him, but more likely than not it was just because they knew, as did the whole empire, that Bayan had led his hex on an overnight rescue mission last spring and personally saved the emperor’s life and the lives of his family. No one would dare be rude to an Elemental Duelist who could give that explanation for sporting a rarely seen battle pennant atop his dueling sigil flag.
Through two tunnels and across three tiny, isolated valleys, Bayan finally passed a large eucalyptus tree whose leaves were turning golden and entered the Academy’s main meeting room. With only one member from each hex present amid the usual ranks of teachers, the six sections of benches around the central dais were sparsely populated, and he could easily make out the identities of the two people standing atop the dais. One was Headmaster Langlaren, the tall, white-haired, sideburn-wearing Hexmagic Duelist who ran the Academy. The other was none other than his old friend Kipri, still dressed in the simple cream tunic and pants denoting a member of the eunuch class, though now Kipri also wore a dashing brown pompadour. As Bayan slid into an empty bench, he shook his head and grinned. Philo’s extravagant style seemed to have finally worn down Kipri’s resistance to fashionable wigs.
“Ah, Bayan. There you are.” Langlaren invited him to the dais with a wave.
Bayan shuffled his way down the aisle, keeping his eyes on the tiles under his feet.
“In case any of you are not aware, this new implementation of the emperor’s can be credited to our own Bayan Lualhati, who brought the issue of equal provincial representation to the emperor’s attention. Emperor Jaap has seen the wisdom in Bayan’s suggesti
on, and so we here at the Academy must prepare for the coming influx. Liaison Kipri will be assisting all of the newcomers as they adjust to life on our campus. I expect you and your hexes to make him, and all our new recruits, welcome. Their presence here is mandated by the emperor. Thank you.”
As Langlaren stepped off the dais amid polite applause, Kipri turned to Bayan. “You didn’t know I was coming?”
Bayan looked up at the willowy Raqtaaq. “No. It’s good to see you.”
“Thank you. This whole process has been pushed through official channels. I’m not surprised the campus was the last to learn of it.”
“What process, exactly? I think I missed all the good parts.”
Kipri led Bayan down off the dais, smiling and nodding to offers of welcome as the students and teachers filed out of the hall. Bayan, having plenty of experience with Academy students, noted that not all of them were sincere. But Kipri breezed right by as if they had been. Bayan felt a momentary pang of jealousy for Kipri’s hard-earned social skills. Growing up the son of an executed rebel, the eunuch had been trained by his father’s enemies to serve them and suffer their insults.
Kipri spoke. “You recall what you said to the emperor after the battle at the Kheerzaal? About certain cultures being under-represented here at the Academy?”
Bayan nodded. He’d been half exhausted and half angry at the time and hadn’t expected the emperor to take him seriously.
Apparently he had. Kipri continued, “Emperor Jaap has embraced your idea with such fervor that some of his more conservative council members wonder if he knows more than he’s saying about the security of the empire.”
Traitor Savant (Second Seal of the Duelists) Page 2