As the dog-avatar gained the flat ground atop the cliff and loped across the terrain toward the distant cold houses, the stranger relaxed and said, “You must be a strong caster, young one. Your school is lucky tae have such as you.”
“You have no idea.” Bayan took a moment to study his new companion. It was hard to judge the wiry man’s age beneath the layers of grime on his face, but he seemed about as old as Bayan’s father. The Tuathi’s hair was long and lank, possibly brown with gray mixed in, and his eyes were a pale, striking blue. His mouth seemed capable of generous smiles, though it was rough with dry skin and caked blood. No matter who he was, the man needed some friendly help.
They arrived at the cluster of cold houses—tiny stone structures meant to dampen wild magic while the student inside was rendered harmless to those around him— and Bayan Idled Timbool into lying down, then let him dissipate, leaving the ragged man leaning on Bayan for support. Bayan pushed open the heavy stone door on the most isolated cold house, helped the man sit in the single wooden chair inside, and worked on lighting a fire in the small iron stove.
As he worked, he spoke. “You’ll be safe here. There aren’t more than two or three students in cold houses at a time, and they all use the ones closer to campus. And the cold houses block elemental magic, so no one can cast at you. I’ll be back as soon as I can with something for you to eat.”
Having successfully kindled a small fire, Bayan rose to go, but the man caught his wrist. “Your name, young one?”
“Bayan. Bayan Lualhati.”
The grizzled man nodded. “A Bantayan, aye. Good people. Good neighbors. I… you may call me… Treinfhir.”
“I’ll be right back, Treinfhir. My word on it.”
As Bayan hurried back to campus, his mind finally had time to swirl with a hundred questions. Their answers had to relate to each other somehow, but at the moment, he couldn’t see how Kiwani’s disappearance had anything to do with a ragged outlander, nor why someone would want to hold either of them prisoner within the mountain.
He was certain of one thing, though, and it made the pit of his stomach twist: whoever had kidnapped Kiwani had to be an Elemental Duelist. And that meant that Treinfhir’s fears were perfectly warranted: someone on campus was, in fact, out to get him.
Bayan was now all that stood between the frightened outlander and his unknown attacker.
~~~
Calder had managed to get Kiwani out of the Chantery in a clean change of Tarin’s clothes without Diantha or the other chanters getting suspicious. Now he, Tarin, and Eward escorted her across campus to Master witten Oost’s office, but something about Kiwani still didn’t seem right. Her scrapes and bruises had been healed, but she stared blankly and was slow to answer questions.
“Probably just leftover trauma,” Tarin murmured. “Diantha said mental damage can’t be healed.”
“Mental damage makes you into a potioneer, too.” Calder’s whisper was terser than he intended. “The Master’ll get it sorted.”
The early autumn sunset curled across the western sky as the quartet ascended the steps to the Hall of Seals and gained entry to Master witten Oost’s finely appointed Headmaster’s Office.
The Master waved them deeper into the room from behind his large, Shawnash-style desk. His welcoming smile slipped at the sight of Kiwani. “My dear girl. What has happened to you? Such terrible things I sense… ”
Calder let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Eward and Bayan had been right; Master witten Oost was the person they needed to see. As Eward explained as much as they knew about Kiwani’s kidnapping and imprisonment, Calder kept an eye on Kiwani herself. She wandered over to a set of cherry-colored knick-knack shelves, apparently uninterested in her own story.
Eward mentioned Kiwani’s lingering vagueness to Master witten Oost, who said, “I have an herbal tea that may assist her recovery. I find its effects to be very settling. One moment, and I’ll fetch her a cup.”
After the master rose and slipped his bulk through a pair of brocaded burgundy curtains, Calder stepped closer to Eward and Tarin. “That magic tea had better work. There’s no way she can do magic in her condition. We canna lose another hexmate.”
Tarin nodded, shooting a troubled look in Kiwani’s direction. She gasped as Kiwani, clumsy in her vagueness, knocked a bowl full of walnuts onto the floor. Calder stopped one with his shoe, but as Tarin and Eward stooped to pick up the rest, the nuts leaped into the air on tiny vortices of air, flying back into their bowl. Master witten Oost stood between the brocaded curtains with a cup of tea in one hand.
“No harm done.” The master offered the cup to Kiwani. “Drink this, child. It will help you feel at ease, more like yourself.”
As Kiwani obediently sipped at the hot liquid, Calder reached down and picked up the last walnut. Its shell was large and glossy, and the heavy weight of the nutmeat inside was noticeable. Master witten Oost certainly managed to get the best of everything he wanted, and why shouldn’t he? Calder plopped the nut back into the bowl with its brothers.
“Be sure to take her straight to bed,” the master instructed Tarin. “She’ll need a full night’s sleep for the tea have its full effect. It’s not magic,” he said with a glance at Calder, “so it needs all the help you can give it.”
Tarin nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“And all of you, don’t trouble yourselves over this admittedly disturbing matter. I shall seek the truth with all my power, and those who are responsible shall be brought to justice, if it is at all possible to do so. The empire cannot afford to lose young, promising duelists. With that in mind, until I can determine the motivation behind this attack and can resolve the issue, may I suggest that no one lets Kiwani travel the campus alone.”
Calder thanked the master and helped Kiwani back out into the chill night. Eward and Tarin followed. Just then, Bayan puffed up to them.
“All taken care of,” Calder told him.
Bayan nodded. “Good. And this is for you, Kiwani.” He held out her pearl turtle ring.
She reached for it with wonder in her voice. “My ring? Where did you get it?”
“Kah had it. Without him, we would never have found you.”
Kiwani slipped the ring onto her pinky finger and admired its nacre surface in the twilight. “Sints bless that bird.”
“I think they already have,” Calder said.
Questions for the Sints
The next morning, Bayan was relieved to see that Kiwani was indeed acting like her old self. As they walked from breakfast to their first class, in the distant Flame arena, she confessed that she couldn’t recall anything more than fleeting impressions of the last several days, but insisted that she was eternally grateful for her hexmates’ rescue. “The last thing I remember clearly is when Kah dragged me to meet Odjin in a little marketplace by the sea.”
“Odjin?” Bayan repeated, surprised.
Kiwani revealed her encounter with their former hexmate and soberly mentioned Odjin’s theories and resentment. “I promised I’d ask a sint about his theories and write him with what I learned, if anything.”
“Speaking of sints,” Calder said, “was Sint Esme right about your trip?”
“More than I ever expected. I do remember that part. I met my real mother, and she wasn’t at all what I expected. She was afraid. She was rude. She didn’t even want to be seen with me.”
Bayan, thought of his own mother. “That couldn’t have been easy to hear.”
Kiwani shook her head. “It wasn’t. I was terribly hurt. But halfway home, I finally realized the truth: my real mother isn’t any more perfect than my adopted mother. How can I ignore one mother’s flaws and hold the other’s against her? It’s unfair of me. I have two mothers, and they both have problems. And so do I, fittingly enough.” She let slip a self-deprecating laugh. “All just trying to do what we think is best. And what’s best for me is being here with you.” She put her arms around Tarin and Bayan and squeezed.
“I’ve no doubt, either,” Kiwani said, chin high.
Tarin nodded. “Aye, Kiwani’s back to her old self.”
Kiwani’s flame avatar, Candlewick, did indeed make an appearance during Flame class. The long, burning string seemed excited to be back on campus, zipping through the air like a frenzied widowbird, though Bayan knew that couldn’t really be true. Avatars were magical constructs, not thinking beings. Kiwani looked happier as she performed her magic than Bayan had seen her in months. Though she was a little rusty with her maneuvers, she’d found what she needed in order to focus, and she gave Bayan’s Firemark a thorough thrashing, and even beat Eward’s Crackle and Calder’s Firedust. Only Tarin’s ember-man, Bonfire, was able to best Candlewick. The hex was complete again—as complete as it was going to get for the foreseeable future.
After class, the hex passed Master witten Oost’s classroom on the way to Avatar Tactics, which was being held in the Wood Arena that day. Frowning, Eward gestured to the decorative plants along the building’s edge. “Weren’t there blooms on all those stalks yesterday?”
Bayan looked at the landscaping. The blade-leaved plants each grew several long, sturdy stalks that had sported dark red blossoms the last time he remembered noticing them. Now, the thick stalks came to stubby ends just above the tallest leaves. The flowering tops were nowhere to be seen.
“Practical joke?” Calder asked.
“Maybe someone doesn’t like the master,” Tarin said.
“Aye, maybe, but why go about showing it this way?” Calder replied.
Bayan didn’t know what to make of the cut flowers any more than the others, but the next morning, when they arrived for Master witten Oost’s Tactics class, the issue became moot.
Kiwani stared at all the perfect stalks, laden with their trumpet-shaped red blooms. “How? How did he do that? Plants are living things. Duelism can’t affect anything alive.”
Tarin held the door open to Bayan as she stepped across the threshold and into the classroom. “Sure an’ that’s why he’s a Master Duelist.”
~~~
“Master witten Oost, are you saying we should lie?” Kiwani frowned.
“Not at all.” The master shifted his bulk on the corner of his desk. “I firmly believe that there is always a time for truth. However, different parts of the truth may have different values at different times.”
“Can you give us an example?”
“You’ll recall our earlier discussion about researching your and your opponent’s clients? You’re not researching in order to learn the truth. Duelists are not investigators. You must always be aware that you exist in a primarily political environment. The politics may be grand, involving nobles and wealthy citizens, or they may be small, involving the only marriageable daughter of a baker and her two suitors. In every case, what you learn should be used as a guide to your next actions, not as a sword to cut down the opposition. Duels are only arranged when the truth has become irrelevant. What you learn may never be suitable for the eyes or ears of others, but it is always relevant to you as an employed duelist.”
“Does that work out of the duel den, too?” Taban asked.
“Excellent question, Taban. The answer is that it works all too well. You must always be paying attention to the world around you. There is no better place to practice this than here on campus. Look, listen, evaluate. You’d be surprised what simple observation can tell you about your fellow students and your instructors.”
“What do you see in us today, Master?” Calder leaned his chin onto his hand with a mischievous look.
“I see a bit of taffy, Calder… in your teeth. By that, I presume that Bayan has received yet another care package from the rising star that is his sponsor: Minister Philo Sallas.”
Calder tongued his teeth and blushed as Bayan shot him a glare. “Sorry, Bayan.” Kiwani shook her head at the Dunfarroghan’s continual misbehavior. How Bayan put up with him sometimes mystified her.
“What about other teachers, Master?” Tarin asked with an eager smile.
Master witten Oost’s face closed down. “I’m sorry, but I cannot expose you to such political currents as you are not yet experienced enough to handle. Much is going on, in the air right over your heads, as it were, and I cannot bid you stand up to see it. Not when your careers may be affected.”
Kiwani frowned, trying to piece together what he referred to, as confused looks passed among the other students.
“How do we know what not to ask you about, then?” Tarin asked. Kiwani gave her a mental pat on the back for her insight.
“Let me just say that, when a powerful individual is suspected of malfeasance in a political climate that favors them due to their connections, steps must be taken one at a time to deal with the situation. Little truths, if you will. Innocent parties should not be given little truths, since they may make little sense without the whole. In due time, the hope is that all will be revealed, and justice will be done.
“We are out of time for today. Please turn in a report next class on a hypothetical situation in which you learn unpleasant truths about your opponent’s client, and how you would handle the situation. You are dismissed.”
Kiwani stood and gathered her papers with the other students. She had barely stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air when Calder grabbed her elbow and tugged her away from the mass of exiting students.
“He’s talking about Langlaren,” he said in an urgent voice.
“What?”
“That ‘powerful individual’ who’s ‘suspected of malfeasance.’ He means Langlaren. That’s why the old headmaster was booted.”
“How do you know that?”
“It only makes sense.” Kiwani heard frustration growing in Calder’s voice. “Just because you’re powerful and popular doesn’t mean you’re not a complete arserag.”
Kiwani frowned at his obscenity. “Calder, is something bothering you? Did something happen between you and Langlaren?”
“Nae, nothing like that. But it makes sense, aye? The sudden change of leadership? Something was going on, but none of the students knew about it. Probably none of the teachers, either. It looks like the Master did, though.”
Kiwani nodded thoughtfully. “I see your point. In my fa—my adoptive father’s circles, there was a large gap between suspecting a powerful person of misdeeds and proving they were doing them. Corruption is a way of life for the wealthy and influential.”
Calder nodded sharply, as if Kiwani had just admitted he’d been right all along. “I’m going to tell Bayan and the others. I think that what happened to Langlaren might be related to what happened to you.”
As Calder stalked off to catch up with his hexmates, Kiwani stood rooted to the spot, as if frost had risen from the earth and anchored her. Since she couldn’t remember any details about her kidnapping, she usually pushed the knowledge into a locked chest at the back of her mind. But it had happened. Her friends were all witnesses. And someone was definitely responsible—probably someone on campus, as Bayan suspected. As long as Kiwani couldn’t remember who had taken her, her kidnapper likely felt safe. But if Calder jumped around yelling more than merely little truths, whoever had kidnapped her might go after him next.
Freeing her feet from the frosty grip of the ground, she hurried after him.
~~~
Bayan directed Shear to cast one last Gyreling spell, then let the two-dimensional, semi-reflective Wind avatar dissipate. He panted for breath. The hex had been up past midnight practicing more Savant magic, and he was both physically and mentally exhausted. On the other side of that ducat, after the past two
Savant training sessions, Kiwani was improving rapidly. She’d just worked on her Wind Avatar spells last night, and her increased skill and control were noticeable even to Bayan’s tired eyes.
Taban sauntered over and handed him a cup of water. “Good class today, Bayan, aye?”
Bayan took it and gulped gratefully, but he knew Taban too well to take the gift at face value. “You’re looking balanced yourself. Think you’ll do well in the Avatar test?”
Taban released his trademark lazy grin. “Exactly why I wanted to talk to you, boyo. Now as Kiwani’s back and flinging Avatar spells left and right with the rest of you, it strikes me that there’s only one flaw in your hex.”
Bayan raised his eyebrows. “What’s that?”
“It only has five members. I’m thinking I could help you remedy that temporary setback.”
Bayan’s eyebrows climbed higher. He glanced at the other members of Taban’s hex: Breckan, Kendesi, and Cormaac. Kendesi shot him a dark look; she seemed to know what Taban was doing.
He looked back at Taban. “I’ll talk to my hex.”
“No rush on commitment, mind you. I’m willing to be an unaffiliated tegen for now, if that’ll ease anyone’s mind.”
Bayan was unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “No doubt it will.”
Far from offended, Taban gave him a broad grin. “At your pleasure, then, hexling.” He swaggered off.
Bayan rolled his eyes and headed over to his own hexmates. Taban probably couldn’t manage humility if his life depended on it.
Calder glanced over Bayan’s shoulder at Taban’s retreating back. “He asking what I think he’s asking?”
“Probably. You’re a canny little tegen.”
“I am, at that.”
Traitor Savant (Second Seal of the Duelists) Page 9