January 2, YD 1010
It is murky—dusk or dawn I cannot tell. From the back, I see two men—or nearly grown boys—walking, one supporting the other. They move stealthily, constantly looking in all directions.
When they finally stop and crouch down behind a boulder, I see the place they are approaching. A palatial fort, or a fortress-like palace, set atop a rocky hill that dominates the center of a wide valley surrounded by toothlike peaks.
Almost all the peaks have guard towers on them, their narrow windows glowing like the slitted eyes of nocturnal beasts. The floor of the valley is brightly lit, revealing rings of defenses.
I had written the above in the morning, harried because I was about to be late for a meeting with the high council that Father wished me to attend. All throughout the day I would remember the vision and wonder what in the world I was looking at.
Just now I visited Father in his classroom. He is so difficult in the present, but the old him, the “record and likeness” he had left behind in the teaching section of the Crucible—I adore that young man. And it breaks my heart to realize that I consider someone who no longer exists not just a dear friend, but the only person who understands the life I live now and all the responsibilities I will face.
How I fear that I will turn out to be like Father someday, hard and grim, full of anger and recrimination. Being reminded of how charming and exuberant he had once been only deepens that fear.
But I digress. Young Gaius told me that without a doubt I had seen the Commander’s Palace, the Bane’s retreat in the hinterlands of Atlantis.
The young men I saw in the vision are either the bravest or the stupidest mages alive.
After the revelation at tea, what Titus wanted to see was something about Kashkari. But the diary chose once again to confirm that Titus would go to Atlantis with only one other person, someone who needed help walking.
He closed the diary. Across the table, Fairfax was just sitting up, coming out of the Crucible.
“Do you know anyone named Penelope Rainstone?” she asked, with a strange flatness to her voice.
“She is the regent’s chief security adviser.”
“What kind of person is she?”
“Extremely capable. Seems devoted to the crown. No evidence of any extracurricular dealings with Atlantis. Why are you interested in her?”
She did not answer, but only looked unsettled.
Could it be? “Did you come across her name while you were searching for clues to the memory keeper’s identity?”
For that was how he would find his way to Horatio Haywood, by first unmasking the identity of the memory keeper.
She got off the stool and shrugged into the uniform jacket she had set aside on the worktable. “The Argonin line is her favorite quote. And she and Master Haywood had met many years ago, during a reception at the Citadel, before they even started their university studies. But nothing conclusive.”
He didn’t know what he had expected, but that was a shock. Commander Rainstone?
“I’m headed back,” said Fairfax.
The house was locked down before supper. After that, to go back in, one either had to climb in through a window or vault. And any time one vaulted, there was a chance of being seen. For him it didn’t matter. For her, everything mattered. Even climbing in through a window, if there were witnesses, could arouse Mrs. Hancock’s suspicion.
She had always been scrupulous before. She ought to remember that even though he could not take her on his mission, she was still the most hunted mage on earth.
But he did not have the heart to lecture her, so he only said, “Let me go back first and make sure the coast is clear.”
After Titus had seen Fairfax safely back, he looked into Wintervale’s room, expecting to see Kashkari there, but only came across Cooper and Sutherland, who were on their way out, as Wintervale was yawning hugely, his eyes already half-closed.
Kashkari was in his own room. “Have a seat, prince,” he said as Titus entered. “The sound circle has already been set, by the way.”
Titus got to the point. “Who are you?”
“I am no one important, but you might have heard of my late uncle. His name was Rahul Kumar.”
Titus stared at Kashkari—the name meant nothing to him. Then it suddenly did. “Rahul Kumar, the elemental mage born on the night of the great meteor storm in 1833, the one who reawakened a dead volcano?”
Kashkari nodded. “Then you would also know what had happened to him.”
“His family killed him rather than let Atlantis have him.”
“He begged them to kill him, rather than be taken—or that has always been the version told to me,” said Kashkari. “In any case, in retaliation, Atlantis killed his parents and all their other children, except my mother, who was very young at the time and had been sent away to stay with a friend as soon as Rahul’s powers manifested themselves.
“The friend, the woman I’ve always known as my grandmother, convinced her husband that they must take my mother and flee to a nonmage realm, so they did, leaving their island in the Arabian Sea to settle on the subcontinent, in Hyderabad.
“My mother grew up knowing she was a mage refugee, but she didn’t know anything about the history of her biological family. A spate of uprisings in the subcontinent realms brought an influx of mage refugees to Hyderabad. Some of them wanted to form a coherent new community; others simply wished to disappear into the crowd. She married a young man of the latter group. He became a lawyer, they had two children, and they lived a life that on the outside was scarcely distinguishable from those of the nonmages all around them.
“And then she became pregnant again and I was born during the great meteor storm of 1866. This frightened my grandparents, who remembered what happened the previous time a child of my mother’s bloodline was born during a meteor storm. They finally told my mother the truth about her brother and her parents, and even though elemental powers rarely run in families, together they watched me anxiously.
“My power, it turned out, was not in elements, but in prophetic dreams. Did Fairfax tell you?”
Titus debated whether to involve Fairfax in the conversation. “He finds your ability quite novel.”
“When my family realized that I was no elemental mage, they relaxed enough to allow me to make my own decision as to whether I wished to come to England for schooling. We of Eastern heritage do not view visions of the future as something that must be accepted, so I leaned toward staying with my family, until I had a new dream that tipped my decision.
“The dream was only a fragment, of a number of people in a room—your room, in fact—and one of them saying to me, ‘By staying close to Wintervale, you saved him.’”
This was not what Titus had expected to hear. For some reason, because his knowledge of Kashkari’s prophetic dreaming had first come from Fairfax, and because the Oracle had told her that Kashkari was the one from whom she should seek aid, he had come to anticipate that anything else Kashkari would say to him would also center on Fairfax.
But of course he should have known better. From the moment Kashkari began his explanation, even though he had yet to specifically mention it, every word he had uttered had centered on one thing: the great elemental mage not of his uncle’s time, but of their own.
And despite everything Titus fiercely wished for, that mage was Wintervale, and not Fairfax. “So you came to save Wintervale,” he said, careful to keep his disappointment out of his voice.
“I knew who Baron Wintervale was—the January Uprising was so successful for a time that his name became synonymous with hope in all the mage realms. My family could not stop talking about all his new victories—we didn’t learn until later that he had Baroness Sorren as his strategist; we thought it was all him, singlehandedly outwitting and overpowering Atlantis. And I remember my grandparents whispering to each other about the possibility of finally going home again, to be Exiles no more.
“All that hope came crashing down when the Janu
ary Uprising was crushed. And by the time I started having that particular dream, Baron Wintervale was already dead. But I thought to myself, what if this means I have some greater role to play than I had imagined? What if I am meant to rescue Baron Wintervale’s son from some terrible danger and help him to rekindle his father’s dream?”
“And to think I once thought your ambition was to help India achieve independence from Britain.”
“No, my ambition has always been the overthrow of the Bane,” Kashkari said easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Justice for my uncle and his entire family. Justice for all the other families that had been sacrificed in the Bane’s quest for ever more power.”
“And you think Wintervale is the key to all that?”
“I don’t know one way or the other. Just as I can’t say my lingering about Wintervale all these years has had any effect.”
Titus had noticed how closely Kashkari stuck to Wintervale in recent weeks. But come to think of it, the two had been nearly inseparable for years.
“Have you told Wintervale?”
Kashkari shook his head. “You know how he is. Either he has to become much more discreet or the situation has to become much more dire, before I’d risk telling him the whole truth.”
“Why are you telling me, then?”
“I need some advice.”
Titus felt a strange premonition. “Go on.”
“I recently had the dream again and this time I finally saw the face of the speaker, the one who said, ‘By staying close to Wintervale, you saved him.’”
“Who is it?”
“Mrs. Hancock.”
“What?” Mrs. Hancock, special envoy of Atlantis’s Department of Overseas Administration?
“I have been in her parlor. I have seen the maelstrom symbol on her chair cushions,” said Kashkari. “I know she is an agent of Atlantis. But Atlantis has many agents, and not all of them are loyal to the Bane.”
“I have seen nothing from Mrs. Hancock that would suggest she is not extremely loyal to the Bane.”
Kashkari’s face fell. “I’d hoped that you knew something about her that I don’t. That perhaps she is sympathetic to our cause.”
“Your cause, not ours,” Titus reminded him, pointedly.
“But Amara told me that Atlantis considers you an adversary. She said Atlantis also believes that you are harboring an elemental mage as powerful as my uncle had been.”
Amara must be the one who had crashed the party at the Citadel, the one allegedly engaged to Kashkari’s brother.
Titus made his tone dismissive. “A misunderstanding that got out of hand. When the elemental mage brought down a bolt of lightning, I got on my peryton and went for a look. Agents of Atlantis reached the spot with me still circling overhead and they have hounded me ever since.”
“I see,” said Kashkari carefully.
“But you need not worry that anything you say here will find its way to the wrong ears. I might not have the same ambition as you, but I have no love for Atlantis and will not stand in your way.”
Titus was about to head for the door when he remembered something. “Mind telling me why you were late for school? Knowing what I do now, I imagine you were not stuck on a nonmage ship in the Indian Ocean.”
“No, I was in Africa at my brother’s engagement—his fiancée’s family moved to the Kalahari Realm several generations ago and even in Exile they did not relocate far from the Kalahari.”
“So the woman really is your future sister-in-law?”
“I’m afraid so.” Kashkari’s gaze wandered briefly to the photograph from the engagement fete. “In any case, there we were, talking. Amara related what she’d thought of as heartening news, that Madame Pierredure had emerged to distribute armament and know-how to mages in several realms who were secretly planning attacks on Atlantean installations.”
“When in fact she committed suicide years ago.”
“In our home, no less—she and my grandmother had been friends at school and she had shown up at our door after the rebellions had failed. We told Amara everything. The next few days were a blur—that was what delayed my return to Britain.”
Titus nodded. “And is there a particular reason you chose to tell Fairfax about your prophetic dreams?”
“Fairfax is an odd case. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me more, since it was always understood that he was your friend. But while I know he had never been here before the beginning of last Half, what I cannot decide is whether you put him here, or whether Atlantis put him here and you must do your best to tolerate him.”
Titus stared at Kashkari. He worried about many things and concocted endless possible scenarios to defend against, but it had never occurred to him that anyone would see Fairfax as a possible agent of Atlantis. “Why do you think Atlantis put him here?”
“Because for two people who are supposed to be friends, sometimes you certainly seem as if you can’t stand each other.”
Sometimes Titus forgot the great falling-out between himself and Fairfax at the beginning of Summer Half. The divide between them had seemed an abyss—completely unbridgeable. Which they nevertheless managed to bridge.
Did this mean there was hope for them this time as well?
“Have you mentioned your suspicions about Fairfax to anyone, anyone at all?”
“No. However he arrived at our midst, he has been nothing but helpful all around.”
Inner beauty. That was what the boys had responded to in Fairfax from the beginning, her kindness, her comfortable company, her easy acceptance of them as they were. “I would go on saying nothing of Fairfax.”
“I understand. And Mrs. Hancock?”
Mrs. Hancock was a very different problem. Titus had no intention of ever trusting anyone with the maelstrom symbol on her chair cushions. “Let me ask around.”
They bade each other good night and Titus walked to the door. As he was about to let himself out, however, Kashkari spoke again. “Your Highness.”
Titus did not turn around. “What is it?”
“You may say nothing of what you believe, Your Highness, but remember my powers,” said Kashkari, his voice quiet and cool. “I have seen who you are, and that is the only reason I have risked my life and the lives of all those I love by telling you the truth. Someday I hope you will return that trust.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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CHAPTER ♦21
The Sahara Desert
HALF AN HOUR HAD PASSED since Fairfax brought down the lightning and buried the armored chariots, half an hour untroubled by minions of Atlantis. The sun beat down, white and relentless; the sand rippled, like the surface of a wind-driven sea. The sand wyvern, a hardy creature, had large recovered from the electric shock it had received, and flew steadily at speeds in excess of eighty miles a hour. BUT TITUS DID NOT DARE let his guard down and kept scanning different parts of the sky with far-seeing spells. Once he and Fairfax had been found, it became much easier for Atlantis to establish a new search range. Its forces no longer needed to comb every inch of sand in every direction from the original blood circle, but could concentrate on a sharply reduced area.
Sure enough, before another five minutes went by, he spotted a trio of albino wyverns. They were several miles behind, but they were faster—smaller, sleeker creatures were often swifter in flight.
Besides, the trouble was not in those three wyverns, but in all the others that are sure to come, now that he and Fairfax had been spotted again.
After studying the riders more closely, however, he changed his mind about their not being his biggest concern. The riders had released a net behind them, which resembled an impractical-looking hood worn on an invisible head.
A spell accelerator: they were about to deploy distance spell-casting.
In distance spell-casting, the party in pursuit was at a disadvan
tage, as the target kept moving away, which meant a spell had to travel farther. While a certain amount of distance was necessary for the strength of the spell to build—three miles was generally considered the optimum distance—beyond that the spell began to weaken again.
But a spell accelerator boosted both the power and endurance of the spell, which portended trouble for two fleeing fugitives.
Titus pulled out his wand—the Atlanteans weren’t the only ones familiar with distance spell-casting. He focused, steadied, and locked his own aim, spells leaving his lips one after another.
He could see what they were doing and they were no doubt aware of his action. But neither party dodged, each determined to deploy as many spells as possible, in case most of them, just a hairbreadth off in aim, would fizzle into nothing somewhere high in the atmosphere, or against the surface of the desert below.
At the last possible moment, Titus sent the sand wyvern into a near vertical dive.
Behind him, the trio of albino wyverns, who had been flying in close formation, responded to the slumping weight of their riders and veered off in different directions.
The sand wyvern pulled out of the dive and began gaining altitude again.
“What’s the turbulence?” she mumbled, her eyes closed.
“We dodged some distance spell-casting.”
“My hero. But can’t girl sleep in peace around here?” There was a hint of a sly grin at the corner of her mouth.
He kissed the top of her head. “Of course. I will personally guarantee a ride as smooth as that of a square-mile flying carpet.”
But the sand wyvern did not want to cooperate. The moment a tiny oasis appeared on the horizon, it headed straight for the grove of date palms. And Titus, despite his best effort, could not dislodge it from its course.
He could only aim a spate of pacification spells at the two dozen camels standing nose-to-tail just beyond the palm trees.
The camels masticated and stared placidly at the sand wyvern, as the palms swayed in the current generated by its massive wings. The humans, however, possessed no such equanimity. Of the four bearded, sun-browned men, one fainted outright, two reached for their rifles, and one for his Koran.
The Perilous Sea Page 17