“I think not.” The Armis grabbed Tamil by the back of his suvali and pushed him into the arms of another disciple. “Put him in the wagon.”
Tomar followed his line of sight and paled. Crates filled with coins, gems and precious metals were stacked in the back of the wagons that waited just past the tents. “What are you—"
“We’re collecting our payment. You knew that the Head Magi’s assistance wasn’t free when you accepted our help.”
“I would have arranged something, given time.” Tomar stalked toward the disciples, gesturing to the pile of loot. “This is more than the agreed price.”
The Armis shrugged. “It’s more than fair.”
“You’re taking everything we have! My people will suffer as a result.”
“That’s not my problem. We will take it all, or the very disciples who united your people will turn on them,” the Armis said bluntly.
Tomar ran his hands over his smooth, shaved head, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What are we supposed to do now?”
The Armis paused, indecision warring on his face before his expression softened. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I might have a solution. Some of us have gone through correspondences from your father’s reign, and he had an interesting proposal that might solve your problem. Honestly, I’m a bit surprised that he never implemented it, but there was a good deal of resistance at the time. Things have changed since then.”
“I’m listening . . .”
“Slaves. Round up all the dregs you have and sell them. The revenue you earn will easily replace everything you’ve lost today.”
Tomar recoiled, horrified by the thought. “That’s barbaric.”
“Is it though? Is the freedom of a dreg more important than the potential suffering of your people, as you claim? It’s not barbaric, it’s practical. You would be doing them a favor, really. You’d be giving them a purpose in life. Otherwise, they will continue on as they always have, leeching off the system without giving anything back in return.”
“And what exactly do you get out of this?” Tomar asked, his lips pulling down in a frown. The suggestion made sense, though he would not make the mistake of trusting a disciple again. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding the Armis with more than a little skepticism.
“A mutually beneficial arrangement. Since many of us will be staying in Kearar, we could go on raids and . . . acquire additional dregs on our travels. For a reasonable portion of the profits, of course.”
Tomar weighed his words carefully. “Is that everything you want?”
“It is.”
“Fine. Come by my tent in a few hours and we’ll discuss this at length. I don’t want any more surprises.”
Tomar watched as the Armis walked off toward what was left of his treasury. Oh, he would go along with the plan. He would sell every dreg on the continent if necessary. Then, he would build his army and tear the Order apart.
The Head Magi would regret the day he stole his son.
Ethan
An explosion in the alchemy room was not how Ethan planned to start his day. Hoping his eyebrows were still intact, he wiped the smoky residue from his face and squinted at the remaining liquid in the vial, comparing the unwanted result to his notes. Had he added too much tarrow root? Or maybe he’d heated it too long . . .
“I imagine we can mark this experiment as unsuccessful?”
Ethan jumped, not expecting visitors in the bowels of the Disciple Wing. Head Magi Cadmus watched from the relative safety of the doorway, his head tilted to the side. Irritation churned in Ethan’s gut, but he hid it well, smoothing the emotion from his face. “Unfortunately, that seems to be the case.”
Silver robes swished with each step as Cadmus approached, leaning forward to inspect the papers that Ethan had carelessly left out on the table. “And what exactly are you making? None of the ingredients listed are used for the approved elixirs.”
While Ethan had contemplated his death on numerous occasions, he would prefer not to die this morning, which is exactly what would happen if he told the Head Magi the truth. Out of the hundreds of Magi that lived across the continent, Cadmus was the only one that could Read a person’s future without touching them. A valuable skill, but most inconvenient for anyone who needed secrecy. Hence why Ethan was creating an elixir that would make him all-but invisible to Cadmus’s Gift. Or so he hoped. “It’s nothing but a sleeping draught,” he lied.
“Hmm . . . In the interest of sparing your face further damage, might I suggest a glass of wine instead? I have a lovely aged mead that I’ve been saving.”
“Tempting. Is there a reason why you’re here?” Ethan surreptitiously glanced at the mirror on the wall, wincing at the decided lack of eyebrows on his singed face. Definitely too much tarrow root.
“As a matter of fact, there is. I am about to receive an urgent message that will undoubtably prevent me from leading a group of novice Magi in their studies. I would like you to handle the class in my absence.”
Ethan stifled a groan, cleaning his workspace before setting the jarred ingredients back on the shelves that lined the room. In general, he didn’t mind children, but nannying a room full of snot-nosed Magi was not how he planned to spend the afternoon. “Unfortunately, I will be very busy today. Perhaps one of the other senior Magi awaiting assignment would be able to help?”
“You seem to be under the impression that I was making a request. I was not. Ah, here we are.” Cadmus straightened and clasped his hands behind his back, looking expectantly at the door. Seconds later, rapid bootsteps echoed through the corridor and an out-of-breath disciple rushed in.
The disciple, Saul, dropped to his knees, head bowed, chest heaving. He held up two scrolls. “Head Magi, a missive from Esterwyn, and one from the transport headed to Aravell.”
Cadmus plucked them from his hand. “Thank you, Saul. Go have a rest and I will have a response for you to take to Stonehollow in two hours’ time.”
Saul winced, but said nothing as he nodded. He pushed himself to his feet and ran out of the room.
“Making a trip of that length on only two hours of rest seems . . . ambitious.”
“Nonsense. Saul is a trained Propiro, and more than capable of running the distance in a week’s time. If he has trouble, then he has obviously been lazy, and the journey will serve as a valuable lesson. As for you . . .” He rounded on Ethan, his expression brokering no argument. “Tend to the young Magi and see me in my office when you are through.”
“Yes, sir.”
After he left, Ethan finished his station, carefully disposing of the remaining liquid. The last thing he needed was for Cadmus to look deeper into his experiments. Once he was sure that none remained, he strode out into the courtyard of Order Headquarters. Six white buildings lorded over everyone below as if they were extensions of Cadmus’s massive ego itself. The walls had been polished smooth by Saxums until it looked like they had been carved from a solid piece of marble. A fountain took up the center of the courtyard, the sound of water splashing added to the relaxing atmosphere.
It was midsummer, and the gardens in front of the buildings were lush with flowers and greenery, lending a superficial beauty that concealed an even greater darkness. To speak of it was death. The Head Magi would go to great lengths to ensure the truth stayed hidden.
No, as beautiful as the grounds were, they were a prison.
A prison from which he was desperate to escape. At twenty-six years old, Ethan should have been assigned to a town already. Instead, he’d been kept here under Cadmus’s watchful eye.
Ethan entered the Novice wing, located across the courtyard from the Magi building. He smiled. This was the only year the budding new Magi would have to spend in the Novice building. After that, they would be given rooms in the Magi building. Only two positions in the Order were decided by the type of Gift they received: Magi and Guardian. Other Gifted were welcome in the Order, but they could never rise higher than the rank of disciple.
He cl
imbed the stairs and walked down the hall to a large room where six students sat eagerly behind small wooden desks.
“Good morning, class.”
“Good morning, Magi Ethan.” They chorused back.
One of the younger ones chimed up. “Where is Head Magi Cadmus?”
“Unfortunately, he has been called away on urgent business, so I will handle your instruction this morning; however, I was not informed where you are in your lessons.” He paused, waiting until one of the children raised their hand. “Yes?”
“We’re supposed to learn the history of the Order, but would it be okay if we practiced Reading instead? I still can’t get a vision,” the boy mumbled under his breath, his cheeks turning red as the others snickered.
“I don’t see why not. The ability to Read is what makes you a Magi, and it is the core skill you must master before you can be assigned.” Ethan paced in front of their desks, pausing before the boys that had been laughing. He scowled, leaning down until his face was level with theirs. “As novices, I would be very surprised if any of you have gotten more than a glimpse of the future in practice so far. Mocking someone for wanting to better themselves is foolish. Understood?”
Shamefaced, they kept their heads down, refusing to look him in the eye.
“Perfect. Now, the concept is simple enough. Touching someone forms a channel from their mind to yours. Blocking out distractions and clearing your mind is crucial. Daily practice will improve your abilities, but you might only get an image or impression, depending on the strength of your Gift. Very few Magi are able to have a full, clear vision.”
“Magi Ethan? Why do we need to touch someone? Head Magi Cadmus doesn’t need to.”
“Head Magi Cadmus is unique in that respect, and the why is irrelevant to your studies.” He held his breath, hoping they would drop it. Cadmus had forbidden him to reveal that secret, and only a trusted few knew the whole truth. Personally, Ethan didn’t understand why it was such a big deal, but Cadmus was particularly sensitive about his parentage.
“Magi Ethan, are the visions always accurate?”
“That is an excellent question. The answer, in short, is no. The future is constantly changing based on the choices we make. For instance, I really want to eat cheese, hard bread, and fish for lunch. If I focus on that, and visualize eating those very things, my future seems probable that I will have this for lunch. Go ahead, see for yourselves.” He held his arm out, walking down the line of students and allowing them to touch his arm.
Most frowned in confusion with blank looks. Only one student stiffened and broke out in a wide grin. “I could see it! You were eating a plate of cheese and bread!”
“No fish? That’s disappointing. In that case, I’d rather have a slice of ham and a cherry tart instead. Now have a look.”
The young Magi touched his arm, and a frown crossed his features. “Now . . . now I see you with that. Why?”
“Probability. Small choices rarely amount to anything, and a trained Magi will be able to weed out fact from fantasy, so don’t feel discouraged. Other things not affected by individual decisions are set in stone. For instance, when you perform a Gifting.”
One of the children turned a little green. “Magi Ethan? What if the child is supposed to be an Irrigo, and I make him a Saxum instead?”
Ethan chuckled. “That’s one thing you will never need to be afraid of. A babe is already born with their abilities. It is your job to awaken it.”
“Unless it’s a dreg.”
“Yes, that’s true. Unless it’s a dreg.”
“How will we know? What if we make a mistake?”
“The choice on who is left a dreg is not up to you, but you will know when the time comes.”
“How do we do it? How do we awaken Gifts?”
“Well, depending on where you’re assigned, you might incorporate some of the local customs into a Gifting. For example, in Crystalmoor, you will bathe the infant’s feet in a bowl of seawater for luck. In some of the more remote areas of Esterwyn where they cling to the old gods, you will probably light incense and candles. The clans of Lingate believe that a Gifting is a baby’s first step in becoming a warrior, so you’ll anoint the baby’s head with a smear of blood. In Aravell, people dislike ceremony. They prefer a no-nonsense affair, over and done in five minutes. At most, you might share a celebratory meal with the family. But in the end, it doesn’t matter what frills you use. The core of the ceremony remains the same. You Read the child’s future and get a sense of their Gift. Then, you place a few drops of the Soperallias elixir—which you’ll learn to brew in your third year—on their tongue. It can take anywhere from a few hours to a few days before the Gift awakens.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Most babies will have no side effects. A few will experience a fever and may fuss more than usual. Severe side effects are rare, though tragic, which is why it’s important to have a Healer nearby for your first hundred or so Giftings. Now, during my demonstration, I noticed quite a few of you were having difficulty Reading. Partner up, and take turns Reading each other for the remainder of class. And remember, some Magi, even ones who are fully developed, chant to focus their minds, so don’t hesitate to do that if you need to.”
An hour passed by as the students practiced using their Gift to varying degrees of success. All but one was able to conjure an image. The boy who couldn’t was on the verge of tears. Ethan knelt next to his desk and placed a hand on his arm, Reading him inconspicuously. He sorted through the images with an ease that came from years of experience. The child was born in a small town in Aravell where his father presided as Magi. He didn’t know who his mother was. Rather than instruct the child, his father ignored his training. Ethan frowned, pulling back. Basic instruction was always the duty of the father until it was time to send the children to Order Headquarters for their education. If Cadmus found out, the man would be punished, and likely lose his assignment. Chances were, he already knew.
“What’s wrong with me?” The boy whispered, wiping his eyes.
Ethan forced a smile to cover his growing sense of dread. Not once during the Reading did he get a glimpse of the boy’s future. While rare, culling did happen in the Order, even among the novices. Cadmus might give the boy a year to catch up, but he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate someone that didn’t meet his standards, even if they were a child. But, he didn’t want to alarm the boy. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Keep practicing, and I’m sure you’ll be Reading in no time,” he said gently.
Maybe he could mentor the boy? If he were going to be stuck here at Order Headquarters for the foreseeable future, at least something good might come of it.
After he dismissed the children, Ethan made his way back to the Magi building. He ascended the stairs and walked to the office where he paused before knocking. At the sound of Cadmus’s voice, he opened the door and knelt on the floor, head bowed. “You asked to see me, Head Magi Cadmus?”
“Stand, please.”
Cadmus sat behind his massive desk, watching Ethan with heavy eyes. “How did you find my novices?”
Ethan chose his words carefully. Cadmus could be prickly, and the last thing he wanted to do was offend him. “They all have potential.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Cadmus snapped.
“Fine,” Ethan said, squaring his shoulders. “They are all grievously undertrained, and worse, I noticed that one of the boys was having difficulty conjuring even a single image.”
“Lucas. Yes, his father has already been dealt with.”
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew. I won’t tolerate that sort of negligence among my Magi.”
“I request permission to mentor the boy.”
“Denied.” Cadmus stood from his desk and walked over to a large picture widow, staring out over the courtyard. “A rogue band of dregs attacked a traveling party of disciples who were escorting a Magi to his assignment. The same assignment that Lucas’s father had recently… vacate
d. Only one man survived long enough to send this message.” He held up a scroll, rolling it between his fingertips. “I doubt that is still the case now.”
The blood drained from his face, and Ethan reached out to the wall for support. “And the others who have gone missing? My sister?”
“I haven’t heard from her in over a year now. She is likely dead. Why? Have you developed a sudden concern for her well-being?”
“You seem awfully apathetic over losing your most promising disciple.”
“She is resourceful. If she is truly dead, I mourn the loss of talent, but we can always breed more disciples.”
“That’s rather calloused.”
“I neither need, nor have the desire for feelings. The entire Order depends on me to lead them, greatly reducing the luxury of being a simpering idiot. Which brings me to my next point. A position has recently opened up in Stonehollow. Magi Samuel has passed away at the generous age of one-hundred and two, leaving a vacancy that must be filled immediately. You are currently the oldest unassigned Magi, and I need you to fill it.”
Ethan spluttered, his jaw dropping open in shock. “Stonehollow? You’re finally giving me an assignment?” he asked, trying to keep hope from infecting his voice.
“I suggest you go pack your things, because you leave in the morning.”
Ruby
With more than a little trepidation, Ruby stared up at the wooden fence that surrounded Mordryl as the wagon brought them closer. “My sister is going to kill me.”
Her best friend, Evelyn clicked her tongue at the horses and threw her a worried glance. “Nonsense. She’ll probably be excited!”
Ruby shook her head. “You don’t know her as well as I do.” She hoped that Opal would understand, but no, she would likely rant about their responsibilities, and berate Ruby for failing so spectacularly.
It was no matter. Nothing could change the circumstances that had brought her home after ten years. She placed a placed a protective hand over her bulging abdomen as the wagon jostled violently over the uneven ground.
The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus Page 31