by Tia Reed
“There is too much of the preternatural in this one place of late,” Levi said. “I would seek a resolution before it tears our realm apart.”
Arun had feared just this. Many a long year had he worked with this Majoria, a man not given to discussion, a man hungry for recognition, but a man blessed by their god. “What is your decision, Majoria?”
“I would uncover the Eye of Mahktos.”
Arun’s heartbeat quickened. This most sacred, most powerful artefact lay buried deep in the mines for good reason. “It is not a relic to bring into the light of day without dire need.”
“Do you dispute the need?
“If Mahktos has guided your judgement, I do not, all praise to Mahktos, all honour to you, Majoria.”
Arun wondered at Levi’s deep breath. Indecision was not one of the man’s traits.
“Mahktos warns of an evil descending upon us. I cannot but think the mischief centres on the royal children.”
Slow and deliberate, Arun turned from the lake. He needed to face Levi to reveal this news. If he had no opportunity to ponder that incongruous vessel, it was for the best. “You may be right,” he said. “Apprentice Vinsant has lost his quartz.”
Two harsh breaths escaped Levi’s lips before he said, low and hard, “The boy is too irresponsible. This is why the mahktashaan do not take apprentices until three years past the prescribed bond age.”
“I fear there is more to it than that,” Arun said. “He was wearing the quartz this evening in the gardens, but not when he emerged from the water.” He hesitated. “It is neither within the lake nor the palace grounds.”
Levi took a moment to absorb that. “You do not need me to tell you what the true loss of his quartz means.”
“I fear it is the work of djinn.”
“Can you prove that?”
“I cannot.”
“Regardless, there is only one way he might remain with us,” Levi said, “And only one way for him to remain alive.”
Arun looked across the lake, his knuckles white with his grip on the edge of the parapet. He closed his eyes as he remembered Mahktos’s harsh rejection of the young prince, and the god’s uncaring stance when he had stood in Vinsant’s stead. “It is certain death,” he said.
* * *
“Stay down!” the woman hissed as Kordahla started to rise.
Kordahla flattened herself on the bottom of the skiff. Next to her, Timak lay in utter stillness, the tickle of his warm breath on her hand the only indication he was alive. The gentle swoosh of water as the skiff glided further onto the lake helped soothe her nerves, if not her body. She was cramped and damp from the flapping fish. Their smell reminded her of the grappers that had fallen from the sky. Was there no end to the discomfort fish were to cause her, she wondered with wry humour.
The bottom of the boat scraped against ground, silencing croaks and chirps.
“Stay here and don’t move a muscle, for I won’t vouch for Simeon’s secrecy.”
The boat rocked as woman splashed onto muddy land. There were voices, the snort of a horse, the clink of coins. Beside her, the boy did not even blink. Lady Luck or Lord Time might find a way to cure him if they made it to Myklaan. Until then…she contemplated whether a boy who did exactly what he was told, no more, no less, would aid or hinder their escape. When footsteps sloshed close, she eased the cloak over his arm.
“You do Arlem’s bidding you say, woman. But no god-fearing man would have his woman out alone at night,” a harsh voice said.
“You heard what happened to him?”
The responding “Aye,” was cautious.
“We’ve a need to survive. I’ll take my chances scum dipping if I must. Arlem’s been a good friend to you, Simeon. All he asks is that you keep your peace about this. Speak your mind to him, if you will, if you’re not convinced he knows it.”
“That I will,” Simeon said. “Just ‘coz this ain’t right. I judged Arlem to have better character than to let his wife scour the scums.”
Footsteps veered to the right. Water splashed as a boat pushed into the lake. Even after the lapping waves faded into stillness, the woman did not return.
What now? Kordahla wondered. How can I possibly escape on foot, with a damaged child and mahktashaan swarming the countryside come morning? She was about to take her chances and sit up when the woman spoke.
“Come ashore. No sudden movements mind.” She offered Kordahla and then Timak a rough hand and led them quickly behind Ahkdul’s ship. “The palace should not be suspicious of my boat because of the fish I hauled there, and Simeon’s boat has disappeared from view. His sight is short, and he’ll not have spied you rise. There’s a horse for you. Only one. We didn’t know there’d be two of you. Head south for a day and you’ll reach the scums. There’s a ford just before the land turns to mud but it’s sees heavy traffic from the scum dippers. If you intend to take your chances across those mires, then you may as well ride as fast as the poor beast will carry you. Work him to his grave, if you must, for he’ll be no good to you in those wretched swamps.”
“Thank you,” Kordahla said, pressing three gold thulek into the woman’s hand.
“I won’t pretend to understand what drives you from the privilege of those walls, but you were kind to my husband when that Verdaani scumbag would have left him to rot.” The woman looked in the direction of the palace with its twinkling lights. Over the lap of water, Kordahla heard her swallow. “It’s our heads if the Shah finds out.”
“There’s no reason he should,” Kordahla said. “Even if we’re caught.”
The woman made a wistful sound. “My life’s been good because of you. Arlem admires your ways, and our daughter is almost as educated as our son.”
Kordahla started. She was pampered indeed not to have grasped the woman before her wore full veil as a precaution, and not in deference to the old fashion. Not a minor moon past, Sareta would have witnessed the sickening sight of the meatball vendors’ heads stuck on the pikes on the palace walls. The threat of a beheading was real.
“Thank you,” was all Kordahla could think to say, only this time there was a great deal more emotion in the simple words.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Its absence was noticed at once. Vinsant, who had spent a near sleepless night wondering both how Kordahla was faring and how he could appease Mahktos, wore his best sheepish smile.
“Scour the palace from top to bottom if need be, but find that piece of quartz!” Branak ordered. He removed his hood to fix Vinsant with the full weight of his slaying glare. Gram and Naikil fidgeted their way apart from Vinsant, Naikil’s joke about the Gram’s fondness for bean stew causing the putrid smell in the courtyard forgotten the instant Branak unhooded. It figured. Until now, Vinsant had never imagined brown-haired, long-faced and patient Branak could look furious. The amber eyes had to have something to do with that.
“Well?” Branak demanded as Vinsant tried to sidle toward his fellow apprentices. Safety lay in numbers even if numbers wanted to distance themselves from trouble.
Nobody had forbidden Vinsant to lie to the teacher, at least not in those direct words, but having an older brother had taught him wiles enough to understand Branak would talk to Arun. The last thing Vinsant felt confident enough to do was backtrack his way out of an accusation by the Minoria. “I don’t think it will do any good,” he said.
Branak closed his eyes, swaying as though overcome by fatigue. It could have been the solid heat that did it, or the stink weighing over the crowded courtyard, but the way his nerves were knocking, Vinsant didn’t think so. He looked at the scuff marks in the dirt, and muttered about the Minoria knowing.
Branak waved him in the direction of the palace with an order to have every page search every nook and cranny of every room he had so much as passed since he last remembered wearing the stone. Vinsant snuck to the stinky bag he had deposited in the corner of the courtyard, the one he had been up at dawn to prepare, holding his breath until he could turn
his nose away from the ghastly smell. Then he sauntered off for a nap. A morning relieved of toddler-level swordplay was a bonus. If he could spend it with his eyes closed, it was a double treat. Although he had to admit that, between his fretting over Kordahla and his lack of sleep, even Naikil might have bested him today.
It seemed only minutes before Arun came to his room to fetch him. He jumped off his bed, grabbed his bag, and scampered after the Minoria’s back. Catching up made him feel worse. One look at the bleak face inside the hood and the questions that had been about to overflow disappeared. He began to feel as weak as Branak had looked. The stench wafting from his bag was not helping. At least Arun did nothing more than give it a disapproving look. Vinsant opened his mouth and closed it again. He would have felt a mite better if the Minoria had said something before he pushed aside the tapestry and opened the entrance to the lair.
“You have been called to account for yourself, Vinsant. Without your quartz, there is no way to train, no way for you to initiate as a mahktashaan. I’m afraid your hours as an apprentice are numbered.”
The palace seemed to spin around him. He felt the blood rush from his face. He tried to convince himself it was worth it if Kordahla was safe far away, but it was not supposed to be this way. His plan to protect her hinged on him wielding magic none would dare oppose. Arun was several steps into the damp gloom before he found the will to follow.
“Can’t I get another?” he asked, his voice thin with uncertainty. Since Arun maintained his silence the entire plod down the stairs, the answer had to be no.
Eight mahktashaan were gathered in knots around the altar in the Room of Ceremony, the Inner Circle at a guess. They were speaking among themselves, Levi the only one apart, but every last one turned their hooded head Vinsant’s way when he stepped into the room. The full intimidating presence of the robed men hit him in a way it had not since he was just a dumb kid. He hung back as Arun went to stand by Levi, thankful the crystals in the sconces emitted a faint glow. Standing between the looming shadows was less spooky than fumbling over the uneven, hexagonal flagstones in the dark.
“Summoned to attend another gathering of the Inner Circle. What trouble are you in now, Apprentice Vinsant?” a genial mahktashaan asked.
The warm voice was familiar, but Vinsant had to check the mahktashaan’s crystal was plum coloured to be sure. Not sure what Arun had told these men, he glanced at the Majoria. “I’ve lost my quartz, Mahktashaan Strauss,” he said.
“Lost, not just mislaid?”
“Um…lost?”
The few seconds of silence from Strauss made it feel like the world was ending. “I thought you might have been somehow involved with this rampant djinn, but this I did not expect. You understand the gravity of the offence?”
Vinsant took a deep breath. The earthy smell of the herbs sprinkled over altar and floor was reassuring in a primitive sort of way. “I think so.”
The mahktashaan had tipped his hood back far enough to reveal a deep furrow on his brow. “No, I don’t think you do.” The man’s jowls quivered. “You are who you are, regardless of what you have been told of your status as an apprentice. I cannot see Levi condoning your execution, but pray with all the fervour you can muster this will go well for Arun.”
Vinsant’s knees wobbled. He fought hard not to choke on the large lump that had formed in his throat. “Er…Er…Um…”
“The Inner Circle is convened,” Levi said.
There went his chance to find out what deep mine he had fallen in. He stepped back as the mahktashaan formed a circle around Majoria and Minoria, placing himself well outside their ranks. They could ostracise him all they liked until they reached a decision. He wanted to be in a position to run if one of them so much as twitched a hand toward a sword.
“All praise to Mahktos. All honour to you, Majoria,” they intoned with a stamp of their left foot.
“This gathering involves our youngest apprentice,” Levi said. “He has lost his quartz.” A murmur rippled around the room. When it died, Levi continued. “Our laws are clear. Is there one who might offer evidence in mitigation?”
“I do,” Arun said.
“That’s hardly a surprise. You pledged your title for him,” a mahktashaan with a sea green crystal said.
“I did and I will bear the consequences,” Arun replied, unruffled.
“And yet you seek absolution for him.”
Garzene of the teal crystal said, “Do not judge out of lust for power, Cromwell. It ill becomes one of the Inner Circle.”
“Are you accusing me of treason, Garzene?”
“It is common knowledge you have coveted the position of Minoria since the day you were admitted to the Circle.”
Levi stamped his foot and the men immediately fell silent. “Minoria, you stood in this apprentice’s stead. Our laws are clear. Your fate rests with his.”
Cromwell said, “As you say, Majoria, our laws are clear. This offence is punishable by death. He should never–” The mahktashaan broke off, his eyes bulging, as Levi’s crystal slowly glowed.
“The Inner Circle is convened,” Levi said over Cromwell’s gurgling sounds. “You will observe protocol and you will pay the Minoria the respect he deserves while he yet holds that title. Be warned. There is chaos afoot and I will tolerate no deviation from custom.”
Cromwell coughed, as though released from a stranglehold. The entire cohort stomped their left foot and stood at attention. “All praise to Mahktos. All honour to you, Majoria,” they intoned.
Vinsant drew a shaky breath. While the military precision of the mahktashaan was awesome to watch during their guarding duties, it was gut-rumbling terrifying when they were discussing his life. Again.
“With regard to the culpability of Apprentice Vinsant deq Wilshem, what evidence have you, Mahktashaan Garzene?” the Majoria asked.
“I have no evidence to bear,” Garzene replied, making his teal crystal flare.
Levi turned to the next member of the Inner Circle and repeated the question. Vinsant wasn’t sure it was good that he too forbore to comment. One by one, Levi questioned the mahktashaan. None offered evidence until at last, when Levi came to Arun, Vinsant found himself biting his lip.
“I saw the young apprentice with his crystal moments before a djinn appeared. All present are aware two such creatures haunted these walls last night. While the boy was being foolhardy upon the merlon, we cannot divine what mischief the djinn intended with him.”
As one, the cohort stomped their left foot.
“With regard to opinion on the matter of Apprentice Vinsant deq Wilshem, what say you, Mahktashaan Strauss?” Levi asked.
“There are limits to how many concessions we can make. I think it clear Prince Vinsant is not meant for our ranks. However, he has not yet been inducted into our secrets. Let him return to his father’s side.”
Vinsant’s heart sank. With a mahktashaan he had thought an ally advocating the order throw him out, what hope did he have?
When Levi put same question to Cromwell, the mahktashaan stared at Vinsant, his sea green eyes the one nightmarish feature distinguishable under his hood. “Already we have conceded much to have this young apprentice train. Without the crystal, he can never become a full initiate. That much is not in dispute. But he was warned of the consequences when he chose to have the Minoria stand in his stead. You say with djinn flying wild, we must observe custom, Majoria. Well let us observe it here and now. This boy is under a death sentence by our law and were it any other, there would be no debate.”
The next mahktashaan, Leyland by name, a crystal of rust, spoke. “His father sent him with full knowledge of our laws. You yourself said you informed him, Majoria.”
“The Minoria offers evidence of djinn, but never has a crystal come loose from its bearer for a reason other than carelessness. I presume the Lake was searched?” another mahktashaan asked when Levi turned to him.
He was sinking into deeper scums by the minute. Hanging around for the
final vote seemed like a bad idea. Trailing his hands along the wall, Vinsant edged around the group, deeper into the lair. The rough stone gave way to a void, and he stumbled into the temple. Swallowing hard, he dared to look at the crystal and gold statue of the god.
From inside the Room of Ceremony, another mahktashaan voiced his dreaded opinion. “For the reasons stated, Apprentice Vinsant deq Wilshem should be put to the sword.”
Arun and Levi did not argue, allowing each member of the Inner Circle their voice. That was five against him and two in support, if he had counted right, and three that called for his head. Knee-knocking stuff, but nowhere near as terrifying as Mahktos’s crimson eyes firing into life. Suddenly, Vinsant knew. The god he had wronged, and the god he must appease. He had nothing to lose when his life was forfeit. He stepped up to the statue, his eyes glued to the god’s, and fell to his knees.
The Minoria’s voice rang out. “Vinsant! No!”
Too late. Vinsant prostrated himself before his god. Around him light blazed with a blinding fury. “All praise to Mahktos,” he said, meaning it even though every muscle in his body trembled.
From the gold core, a robust voice boomed, a sudden crack of thunder during a storm. “Who dares to place himself in my presence?”
The words juddered through every fibre of Vinsant’s being. He gulped, kept his head down and prayed the god understood he had perpetrated his deceit so that he could better serve in the future, because wasn’t it a mahktashaan’s duty to protect the royal family, and didn’t saving Kordahla from the swine count as protecting her, and if he couldn’t see himself as a grown up with loads shouldered and curiosity curbed, it didn’t mean he wanted to be a mahktashaan any less.
A velvety chuckle startled him out of his thoughts. “Rise, little one.”