“None of that is necessary,” Piven said, cutting off the meat with the blade Greven had given him. On chewing his food he realized it tasted like sawdust. He knew what Greven was doing—he’d take him to the Academy, enroll him, have him accommodated and then one night he would just disappear. He knew that as deeply and as nakedly as he knew that Greven was right; he was changing and it was pointless denying it. He hated capitulating to what ever this change was—he would fight it as best he could—but he also knew that he would fight in vain.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t need that sort of attention.”
“You don’t think you do,” Greven said, tearing the cooked meat from the carcass of the rabbit. He waved the piece of meat as he spoke in his measured way. “But you will benefit from having others around you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re too young to appreciate it,” Greven replied, chewing.
“My age is irrelevant, Greven,” Piven said carefully. “And you know it.”
They both eyed each other. Neither said anything.
“We both have secrets,” Piven finally said.
At this Greven laid down his meat, cleaned his fingers on his clothes and used his shirt to wipe away the juices from his lips. All of this was done silently, and in a methodical manner. Then he looked up and asked a single question. Piven knew what it would be before the words were out; he also wished Greven wouldn’t ask it because it would irrevocably change both their lives.
Kirin and Lily had been kept waiting for so long, they were both drowsy with the sleep they’d had to hold off during the ride. They’d been left in the cool reception chamber, the clay-tiled floors and the plain stone walls not helping the temperature. Kirin was embarrassed at having to be shaken awake.
“It’s time to go in,” the soldier said.
Kirin struggled to clear his head. He was relieved that the brief doze had helped with the pain and nausea, which had definitely eased. He hoped he would be able to hold down the little that he had in his belly. Lily looked lovely but wan. As they were ushered into the chamber, he realized that next to a surprising stirring of desire existed a cold clamp of fear on her behalf. They were about to wade into dangerous waters, he was sure of it.
This chamber was the opposite of the hollow, echoing reception. Softer furnishings, thick rugs, mellow honey-colored furniture and a wall hanging depicting the artisans, striking new coins caught Kirin’s eye.
“I see you’re taken with the tapestry,” said a voice.
Kirin swung around to see a man entering behind them. “I’m sorry to have kept you,” he added with a brief smile. “I like that work too,” he continued conversationally. “There’s so much history encapsulated in that one piece, it’s astonishing.”
He looked back at them, smiling benignly.
“It’s lovely,” Lily agreed, when Kirin said nothing.
Smartly kitted out in a gentleman’s attire of somber charcoal-colored fabric, the newcomer looked every bit the dour professional. If Kirin didn’t know otherwise, he would have guessed the man to be a physician or lawyer, a counselor of some sort even, perhaps to the nobility or even royalty. His beard was closely clipped; he was tall with a straight bearing. And he seemed to be well spoken; the man was clearly educated. Kirin was tempted to pry but he held his magic back, waiting to find out what this man had in store for them.
“Please sit,” he said, making himself comfortable behind a large desk. “I understand that neither of you has had any sleep and that you’ve traveled through the night on horse back to be here. I am Master Vulpan and I am attached to the emperor’s new School of Thaumaturgy; I’m its principal. Nearly one anni ago, when I was appointed, I suggested to the palace that we keep a record of Vested. Thank you for volunteering your information. Most Vested don’t, for reasons I can’t fully grasp—”
“Most likely for fear of persecution,” Kirin interjected. “I have vivid memories of being persecuted by the emperor’s men.” He felt Lily glance at him but refused to return her attention.
The man did not miss a beat. “And now you work for that same emperor, I’m told?”
“I work for a man called Freath, who is personal aide to Emperor Loethar. I am based at the palace in Brighthelm.”
“And you were found traveling south from Francham in the far north, am I right?”
“Yes,” Kirin said, ensuring that his voice sounded even and patient. “I was with a caravan of merchants, bound for the city.”
“And why were you in Francham?”
“Master Vulpan, with respect, sir, what business is it of yours what I was doing in the north?” He felt Lily stiffen at his side.
Their host did not react to the surly behavior. “It is my task to compile a record of Vested individuals, as I explained.”
“Is it also your task as a principal of a school to track those people’s movements constantly?”
Vulpan regarded him, eyes narrowing. Finally Kirin understood what didn’t add up in the smooth and slick presentation of the man seated before him. His eyes; they aimed to unnerve with their dark impaling stare. “Track? No, Master Kirin,” the man said airily. “We simply like to know about new Vested; have a rough idea of where they choose to live.”
“Why? And who is we?”
“The we is easy. It is the emperor’s wish to compile a list of Vested. The why is his business and I am not privy to his plans.” The man was lying; Kirin was sure of it. “I possess the skill to ‘know’ people by the individual trait of their blood. It is a simple, clever way to keep a record of our citizens who possess special skills.”
“The fact that the emperor wants to keep a record of Vested but not his other citizens suggests to me that there is an ulterior motive to the list. That he intends to make use of it at some point.”
Vulpan’s demeanor did not change. “Master Kirin, it was my impression that you volunteered yourself. Am I now to understand that you are here under protest?”
“Put it this way: I didn’t ask to be removed from the merchant caravan and sent in a completely different direction. I was on a work mission for the emperor, as it happens, and I’m not sure he will take too kindly to me being away from my post, so to speak.”
“I will certainly petition him on your behalf if that is—”
“No, that will not be necessary. I have never behaved in a manner that would concern the emperor,” Kirin lied, “and he would assume I have good reason to be elsewhere right now.”
“Good,” Vulpan said, his voice polite but with a hint of dismissal. “And this is your lovely wife?” he said, turning his cold stare on Lily. “Lily Felt, yes?”
Lily smiled blandly.
“A marriage between two Vested. How fortunate for you both to have found one another. And such a handsome couple too,” he added with oily charm. “Now, my dear, your husband has an ability to ‘divine’ shall we say…he can see traits in people, which he believes to be a fairly useless skill, or so he told our men. Nevertheless, the emperor appreciates all level of magic and all types. What is it that you claim to possess an ability with?”
Lily flicked a nervous glance at Kirin and he sat forward to speak again but Vulpan held up a hand of warning. “No, Master Kirin, let us allow your wife to explain in her own way. Go ahead, my dear.”
Lily cleared her throat. “Er, thank you, sir. Um, well, as I also informed your soldiers, it is a low level skill. Simple healing.”
“I see. Healing with magic, rather than props?”
“Props, sir?”
Vulpan smiled indulgently. “Oh, you know, plants and herbs and all that paraphernalia,” he said, giving a wave of his hand to suggest it was all a bit beyond his understanding.
“They are effective,” Lily began, but Vulpan stopped her.
“Nevertheless, you are here as Vested and that is what interests us today…you can heal through magic. Correct?”
Kirin held his breath. He desp
erately wanted Lily to come clean, tell Vulpan it was a mistake. But they were already in so deep, lying about being married, lying about her skills, Kirin himself lying about his role at Brighthelm. “Tell Master Vulpan, darling, how you can cure small ailments through touch,” he encouraged.
Vulpan’s gaze slid, slippery and with a wintry coldness, to warn Kirin, but his encouraging smile never left his mouth, and never reached his eyes.
“It’s true,” Lily started again, haltingly. “I’m sorry, I feel rather nervous. I don’t like talking about my magic,” she admitted.
“Not many of us do, my dear. Ask your husband. I’ll wager he kept his skills quiet all of his life. I myself never thought my odd ability could be seen as anything but a curiosity. It’s quite odd, isn’t it, to taste blood and then to simply recognize someone, even if you’ve never seen him or her before. Who’d have thought it could be put to good use?”
Good use, my arse, Kirin seethed. I’ll bet you’ve never even tried to put it to good use.
“Let me ask, what sort of ailments could you heal through touch? A headache perhaps?”
She nodded. “Usually.”
“How about a sore leg?”
“I will always try.”
“Well, let’s test it, shall we? Rather than wasting everyone’s time—because you don’t seem terribly confident, if you’ll permit my observation.”
Kirin felt the tendrils of fear flutter at his throat.
“Test it?” Lily repeated. Kirin had to admire that her voice didn’t shake and her body didn’t tremble. But all the same he could sense her fear. And likely so could Vulpan, who seemed to be enjoying this interview, watching them squirm.
Vulpan held up his hand. For the first time Kirin noticed the bandage on it. Until now their interviewer had kept his left hand either in a pocket or below the desk. “Accidentally burned it last night. Lo, how it hurt,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “I actually sickened, I think. I spent most of the night with my hand sitting in a bowl of water, which seemed to be the only relief I could achieve. The moment I tried to remove it, the pain descended.” He mimicked lifting his hand from the bowl. “No wonder people who are burned by fire, or through accidents with cauldrons of boiling liquid, don’t survive. It’s not the wound, it’s the pain. I’m sure the heart gives up. This hand gave me serious grief last night. It continues to throb now.”
Kirin could envisage what was coming. He couldn’t bear having to listen to Vulpan build this scene any longer. “Lily, my love,” he said sweetly, “why don’t you see what you can do to ease Master Vulpan’s pain?” He gave her a smile of encouragement he didn’t feel. Kirin’s mind fled to how cunning and resourceful Freath always was in the face of impossible odds. He needed to show the same resilience. He nodded at Lily again.
“I can try, Master Vulpan,” Lily said, and Kirin felt his heart bleed to see how hard she was working to sound matter-of-fact. He watched Lily rise and give Vulpan a smile he knew she had to force.
Walking around the desk, she gestured to his hand. “May I?” she said.
“Of course. Let me unwrap the bandage for you.”
“I can do that, Master Vulpan,” Lily said gently. Kirin watched her skilfully unravel the makeshift bandages to reveal the ugly burn. “That must hurt, sir,” she commented.
“It does,” he said blandly, “although I can manage some pain by shutting it elsewhere in my mind, using an odd skill I’ve had since I was a small boy. Do you understand what I mean?”
“No, Master Vulpan,” Lily admitted.
He glanced over at Kirin. “Do you?”
“Not really,” Kirin lied. “But it is an enviable skill, I’m sure. If you are not irked by the pain, though, do you need healing?”
Vulpan smiled and Kirin saw only malevolence behind it. “Show me what you can do, Lily Felt. I’m very intrigued by healers.”
Lily frowned. “It won’t be immediate, Master Vulpan. You need to understand that healing—even by magic—is not an instant process.”
“Oh, is that so? I thought the wound would simply disappear after your ministrations.”
Kirin saw how she smiled coyly. He couldn’t tell if she was genuine or just the best actress across the Set.
“But I’ll feel something, won’t I?” Vulpan asked. “I mean, for the purposes of this trial, I will need to feel a change.”
The word trial was not lost on Kirin and he was sure it wasn’t missed by Lily either. “Oh yes, I’m sure you’ll feel a difference,” she confirmed. “I will need to hold your head. Will that be permitted?”
“What ever works for you, my dear,” he said, his sarcastic tone evident.
“Lay your arm on the desk so I can see your wound,” Lily said, standing behind Vulpan. “Now close your eyes, Master Vulpan. I need you to concentrate—just for a brief while—on the pain in your arm. I know you have banished it, but if you can bring it to the front of your mind you will help me reach the pain and deal with it. Does that make sense?”
Kirin stifled the thrill he felt at hearing Lily turn Vulpan’s words on himself. It was a hollow triumph because their situation was so tenuous but he took plea sure in realizing that what ever fear Lily felt, it wasn’t going to get the better of her.
“Not a word of it,” Vulpan replied haughtily, “but there’s no accounting for our magical skills, is there, my dear?”
Lily smiled bleakly over the top of Vulpan’s dark hair to Kirin and he saw her shake her head with an expression of resignation. She was playing for time. She glanced behind her deliberately, and he saw that she was directing his gaze toward a letter opener with a sharp point. Kirin carefully kept his face blank but his heart sank. Lily was going to do something so unwise he couldn’t credit it. And somehow he had to stop it.
She was now uttering nonsensical words, massaging Vulpan’s temples—first the right, then the left. After she’d massaged his right temple for the third time, she kept her left hand busy while reaching behind her for the blade.
Kirin knew he had to move now! “Lily,” he interrupted, shocking her, doing his utmost to cover his anxiety. “Surely that’s enough, my beloved? Your skills work so fast normally.”
Vulpan’s eyes, which had even conveniently closed as he enjoyed Lily’s touch, snapped open. “Shouldn’t your wife be the judge of that, Master Kirin?” he demanded, vexation brimming in his tone.
Kirin matched the irritation in his own tone; it was the only way he could ensure the Vested’s attention would be focused on him and not Lily. He stood and beckoned to Lily. “Master Vulpan, forgive me, but I am now very tired. My wife clearly has more stamina than I, but if you’re not ready to add us to your list, then perhaps you could summon us when you are. My dear, we should leave.”
As Lily hesitantly returned to his side, the blade left behind, he pried.
Vulpan stood. “You will—”
Now! “Sir, can you just tell us whether or not your arm feels any better,” Kirin demanded.
Incensed, Vulpan opened his mouth but the words seemed to catch in his throat and he frowned. Kirin held his breath, both from apprehension and against the rising tide of dizziness.
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it does,” Vulpan admitted, still frowning, shaking his head. “It worked, Mrs. Felt. I see the scar but I am healed of its pain.”
“Excellent,” Kirin managed to get out through gritted teeth just before he staggered forward. “Forgive me, I feel unwell.”
He remembered reaching for the wall but found nothing of substance as he fell through darkness.
The roasted meat turned acid in Greven’s mouth at Piven’s words. We all have secrets. What did he mean?
He stared blankly for a moment or two at the half-eaten rabbit carcass, now carelessly tossed back among the embers. It had been a delicious meal up until this moment—he hated to waste it but he feared he would return everything in his belly if he so much as thought about the food again.
Greven found the courage t
o raise his eyes to Piven. He was comforted slightly to see that his beloved child looked daunted by his words. But it was too late for recriminations and definitely too late to take it back—not that Piven looked to be withdrawing from his statement; he simply looked shocked that he’d said it.
As soon as their gazes locked, Piven looked down into his lap, fiddling with the axe handle, his own food forgotten and laid aside.
The silence between them lengthened until Piven, it seemed, could no longer bear it.
“We could forget I just said that,” he offered, finally looking up at Greven.
“But it would always hang between us, and we have always been honest with each other.”
“Have we?”
“What have you not been honest about?” Greven asked, quickly turning the scrutiny on Piven.
“About what’s happening to me.”
“Will you tell me the truth now?”
“I can try. I don’t understand it but I have the feeling if I don’t say something soon no one will ever understand or forgive.”
Forgive? Greven was already confused. “Tell me what is happening to you, Piven, please.”
At first the boy didn’t answer. “I’m changing,” he finally said. “Just like I found my voice and emerged from the imprisonment of the strange void I existed in during my early years. It seems what ever that change has been about hasn’t finished.” His voice was filled with regret. “I’m sorry that I can’t explain it easily.”
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