Shard & Shield

by Laura VanArendonk Baugh

  Shianan ground his teeth. “I know that.”

  But Tam spoke again, his tone reproachful. “You should not have—”

  Shianan whirled and struck at the boy. “I know that!”

  He froze, already regretting his loss of control. Tam had ducked the blow incompletely, and Shianan’s knuckles stung where they had skimmed the boy’s skull. Tam stared back at him, more startled than frightened. His expression was one of cold outrage.

  That pricked Shianan more. He should not have struck the boy—should not have lost his temper, should not have insulted the mage in the first place—but he was well within his rights to rebuke an insubordinate slave. He set his jaw. “What about supper?”

  “It’s ready. If there’s nothing else you need, my lord, I’ll be excused.”

  Shianan watched as the boy started away, uncertain if he’d been carefully disdained. Lady Ariana, returning to the circle of firelight, stopped to speak to the boy. “Tam?”

  “The supper is ready,” Tam said a little more naturally. “Is there anything else you’ll need of me?” She shook her head. “Then may I be excused for a bit?”

  “Certainly.” He slipped past her into the darkness, and she came to the fire. “I wonder what that was about,” she mused, ladling food into a shallow bowl.

  Shianan shrugged. Should he apologize, or let his words lie?

  She didn’t give him time to decide. “We’ll be careful in the pass, your lordship.” She took a bite without looking at him. “I know I am young, both in years and in experience. Please tell me if something worries you.” She paused and turned to meet his eyes. “But I am as capable as any mage. My father said as much after my examination.”

  Shianan nodded. “I did not mean to disparage your abilities.” She was not incompetent, or she would not be here with him.

  She shook her head. “You said nothing inaccurate. I did fail—something I mean to rectify when we return.” She looked around them. “Tam didn’t take anything with him, did he? To eat?”

  “No, he didn’t. But… I know he’s not my watch, but he could go without a meal or two if it would tighten his tongue.”

  Ariana winced. “Did he say something inappropriate?”

  “Not exactly—no, he didn’t.” The boy had only defended his mistress; he wouldn’t see him chastised for that. “And we’re all a bit short after today.” He avoided her eyes. “But he generally—that is, he isn’t over-courteous.”

  “Tam has been with us for years,” Ariana said, a little defensive. “He’s practically family. We’ve found little fault with him.”

  Shianan clenched his jaw, frustrated with himself and the conversation. “The boy likes you,” he said uncomfortably. “Not as a slave should feel toward his mistress.”

  She failed to suppress her smile. “Oh, please!”

  “Even boys can have ambitions.”

  “Not Tam. He’s been a perfect servant. We couldn’t ask for better.”

  Shianan laughed. “No one’s that good, and certainly not a boy of—what is he, twelve?”

  “Older, I think, but—” she glanced over her shoulder—“he’s never really matured physically. And no, I mean it. He’s different—odd, even. He never went out with other children, even when he was small. He hardly even played with me when we were younger. Always inside with my father, always in the workroom.”

  Shianan frowned. “Always locked away with your father?”

  “As a famulus, an assistant.” Ariana regarded him warily, ready to be outraged. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Why does your father have a slave?” He held up a hand to forestall her until he could explain. “During the arguments over the Furmelle prisoners, I ended up reading much of the debates of twenty years ago. Your father was already White Mage, and the archives show quite a lot of his opinions.”

  “What of it?”

  “Twenty years ago, your father was one of slavery’s most vehement opponents. He wanted stringent reforms and a contracted term of servitude rather than an indefinite condition. The details aren’t important now, but the point remains—how did such a vocal reformist come to keep a slave?”

  Ariana waved a hand. “I suspect Father felt sorry for him. He brought him back from the Luenda battles. There were a lot of orphans, and it was probably easier to make him a slave in a benevolent household than to—”

  “The Luenda battles?” Shianan repeated. An owl hooted from the dark trees.

  She nodded. “As White Mage, my father was in the front lines.” Her voice gained a note of pride. “He drove more Ryuven back to their own world than any other—”

  “Wait a moment. Lady Ariana, Luenda was fifteen years ago.”

  Her brow furrowed. “But that can’t be right.”

  “It is. I was young to be sent, even in that desperate need.” Shianan carefully modulated his tone. “You might be remembering some other time your father was away.”

  Ariana shook her head. “No, Pairvyn ni’Ai was still fighting. It was Luenda.”

  “Then why does Tam look so young?”

  “I don’t know!” Ariana snapped. “I don’t know. He’s always been Tam—just Tam. I said he was underdeveloped. Would you hold that against him?”

  Shianan frowned. It was possible Tam was cursed with bad blood, a heritage of poor development so he looked forever under-aged. It would be easy to underestimate such a slave.

  Ariana was trying to peer about the darkness. “It’s late. Should we look for him?”

  If Tam were older, his ill-conceived infatuation for Ariana might be dangerously real, and his recalcitrance a sign of greater trouble to come. “He’ll find his way back. Let’s get some sleep before the pass tomorrow.”

  Was it his imagination that Lady Ariana turned away too quickly, dismissing the curious riddle too easily? Whatever Tam was, he wasn’t the cheeky but harmless boy he seemed. Shianan would keep an eye on him.

  Chapter 3

  They descended toward Davan, a scrubby town dominated by the weathered citadel left from centuries past. The citadel was maintained now by the Gehrn, a faction which clung to the idea that ancient wars had been prophetic warnings of greater wars to come. Ariana had never understood exactly what else the Gehrn beliefs included, as the predominant idea seemed always to be preparation for unceasing war, and her whirlwind study prior to departure hadn’t clarified their views. They tended to cloister themselves in remote strongholds, and this was their center.

  Somewhere inside the citadel rested the Shard of Elan, a relic handed down through history and owned by any number of kings and leaders and revolutionaries. Some had attributed religious significance to it, some magical, some cultural. The Gehrn had it now.

  The three were noted immediately as they entered Davan; travelers were rare here during the Migrations. Becknam kept his eyes forward as he strode ahead, ignoring the curious glances they received. Ariana wanted to look around but found herself quickening her stride to keep pace. They always stare at home, she realized. He had learned to outpace rude eyes.

  Becknam turned on Tam. “You,” he said, “will be absolutely silent. Do not speak. Nor will you even move. You will simply follow us and stand like a rock. Do you understand?”

  Tam blinked. “I am to be still.”

  “No insolence.”

  “I understand,” Tam said a little petulantly.

  “My lord!” Ariana protested.

  Becknam seemed to catch himself, and he glanced from Tam to her and then away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I only wanted…. Let’s go.”

  The citadel had a long ramp beginning in the center of town and leading to the high gate. It was a gradual, weaving climb but narrow, designed to slow charging armies. At the top they had a chance to catch their breath while the gatekeeper sent word of their request for an audience.

  They were led to an austere chamber, and shortly a man in layered blue garments entered. “I am Manceps Ande, Flamen here. You asked for me?”

 
Becknam bowed. “Shianan Becknam, Count of Bailaha and commander in the king’s army. This is the mage Lady Ariana Hazelrig.”

  Ande bowed slightly. Very slightly. “Ah, we expected you. Please, sit.”

  Tam remained by the wall. Becknam looked a little uncomfortable in the chair; he was likely used to standing. “We have come representing the council and the Great Circle.”

  Ande glanced again at Ariana, assessing her plain travel clothes. “I did not realize my lady mage was of the Circle.”

  Ariana’s cheeks warmed. “I am not. Not yet.”

  “Hm.” Ande leaned back in his chair. “Do you know what the Shard of Elan is?”

  Ariana did know. Only recently the Great Circle, studying a fragment broken away from the Shard centuries before and newly rediscovered in a dusty archive, had discerned the Shard’s actual nature. It seemed to be a piece of starry ether, a condensed chunk of the vaporous substance which made up the streaming light of the night sky.

  But that was unlikely to be the answer Flamen Ande sought.

  Ande looked from Becknam to Ariana. “It is the symbol of our obligation,” he said. “The Shard must be defended at all costs. It is sacred to us.”

  “The Shard is not to be defended,” Ariana amended. “It is the key to defense. With the Shard we can erect a barrier against the Ryuven and end the raids.”

  “The message said you would take it from here.”

  “You say the site where the Shard rests must be protected,” Ariana said. “But it is not of this world. Its presence here may be a sign that it is this world which must be protected, using the gift of the Shard.”

  Becknam raised an eyebrow appreciatively.

  Ande frowned. “And why must the Shard leave this place?”

  “Such magic will require regular maintenance,” Ariana said. “It will be far easier for the Great Circle to perpetuate the shield with the Shard within Alham.”

  “We know how important the Shard is to you,” Becknam said. “But we ask it only for the greater good of the kingdom—of our world. We offer the Gehrn a chance to protect us all.”

  Ande, unimpressed, eyed them coolly. “One might think that were the Shard so critical, they might have sent someone greater than a mere commander. Could not a general be found to explain the urgency? Surely if this were the answer to save the kingdom, a prince would come?”

  Becknam’s wince was barely perceptible.

  “And a common grey mage…. You have just explained this is the most valuable artifact in the whole of the world, and yet I see here a girl, hardly even a woman, and certainly no mage of the Great Circle.”

  Ariana bristled. “His lordship and I were selected personally for this task. The Circle believes me capable of seeing the Shard safely to Alham.” She took a sharp breath. “My name, as we’ve said, is Ariana Hazelrig. My father is Ewan Hazelrig, the White Mage. That I am not yet ranked within the Circle is irrelevant—I was sent for the Shard and I—”

  “The council believed,” Becknam cut in, “the Shard’s safety was paramount. We could not risk its loss to bandits or Ryuven.” He faltered.

  But his interruption had given Ariana time to recover. “Exactly. While the Shard deserves the highest respect and honor, none of the personages you mention could safely travel from Alham without attracting undue attention. If it were known, for example, that the White Mage and the prince-heir had come to Davan, who would not think there must be a great treasure to draw them? And if the Ryuven were to attack this impressive procession, all might be lost.”

  Becknam gave her another appreciative glance, and she recognized the telltale look of Tam suppressing a smile.

  Ande frowned. “I see.” He looked between them. “Still, I have nothing but your word as to who you are.”

  “As to that….” Becknam withdrew a packet. The waxed outer layers protected the heavy inner parchment with its broad, deeply-embossed closure. “The royal seal, of course. Inside you will find descriptions of my lady and myself, with attestations of our commission.”

  Ande broke the thick seal and scanned the letter, his eyes flicking from the page to each of them in turn. “I see,” he conceded at last.

  “I regret we are not the notable persons you mentioned,” Becknam said, “but for the safety of the Shard and the kingdom, they could not have come personally. You see, though, how closely they take an interest in your assistance.”

  Ande drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “This is a weighty decision for us.” He stood, and they rose with him. “Will you wait here, so you may answer our concerns as necessary?”

  “Of course,” Becknam said with a slight bow. “We await your need.”

  The flamen left without glancing at Tam by the door, and Ariana sank back into a chair. She looked at Becknam. She had expected a man of the court to be more confident in his negotiations. “I thought it would be settled already.”

  “It seems not.” Becknam frowned. “They want something.”

  Chapter 4

  Shianan Becknam crossed his arms and sat rigid in the chair, determined not to fidget. Flamen Ande would return to find him calm and expectant. If Ande thought a barb or two would win leverage in new negotiations, he would find the opposite.

  As if either of the princes could have been sent. Alasdair was only twelve, too preoccupied with royal hunts and private tutors to be sent across country. Shianan’s lip curled; he had spent his own twelfth birthday digging a fresh privy. And Soren….

  The king had sired an heir and then a second son, well and good for Chrenada’s succession. But between them he had spawned a bastard. King Jerome had tried to conceal the mistake at first, sending the boy to be raised in a remote barracks, but as Shianan grew older the king had become convinced it was safer to keep him within easy watch, and he’d brought him to the capital.

  Last year Shianan had been called to court, where the king had bestowed upon him a title and a bit of land. It was a concession to public, if unrecorded, knowledge. It was also, Shianan thought, a gesture from one who wished to be a truer father to his son. At least, that was what he hoped. Many days he believed it.

  But Shianan had been sent to retrieve the Shard. Soren, the prince-heir, could not be risked crossing the mountains during the Migrations. Shianan could.

  Lady Ariana was looking at him, and he realized he was scowling. We’re here because I’m expendable and she’s a failure.

  Ariana glanced away, touching her hair. He sighed; it was hardly her fault; they were both victims of their birth. Only, she could study harder and train more and try again to enter the Circle, if she wanted, while he could never outpace his bastardy.

  Enough. He rose and began to pace. Tam ducked out of his path and circled behind his abandoned chair at the table.

  Lady Ariana laced her fingers and pushed back against her chair. “They’re just being selfish. The Shard isn’t exactly vital to their practice; they only acquired it themselves a dozen years ago or so.”

  Becknam gave her a dubious glance. “Flamen Ande certainly seems attached to it.”

  She shrugged. “He wants it because it’s unique, and because we want it. And he wants something for it.”

  Becknam turned away. “Don’t I know it.”

  Ariana stared across the room and wondered for the eleventh time how long they had waited and whether she looked impatient to Becknam.

  Tam had no such worries. He flopped into a chair at the table, arms folded in irritable boredom. “Why don’t we just steal the Shard?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” Becknam said. “But we don’t know anything of the citadel or where the Shard is kept. And while I could fight my way out, if necessary….”

  Ariana raised her chin. “I wouldn’t slow you down.”

  “King’s oats, I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Becknam muttered. “The crown couldn’t—but whatever it takes for this—magic shell….”

  “Shield.” Tam’s voice was nearly hidden as he hastily dropp
ed his chin onto his folded arms.

  “Shield?”

  “It will be a shield, technically speaking,” Ariana supplied before Becknam could respond to Tam’s correction. “That is, magic to physically repel, in this case to repel a Ryuven. More specifically, the organs of a Ryuven—heart, lungs, liver….”

  “Just the organs?”

  Ariana wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t too fond of the picture, either. But it’s war, they say.”

  “So it is.” Becknam gave Tam a disapproving look.

  Ariana quickly continued, “A shield blocks physical intrusion, like a sword cut. A well absorbs a magical attack.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “A cistern, defeating magic.”

  She laughed. “An inversion well, I meant. The offensive energy is dissipated through the caster—much like a rod takes lightning, if that helps. Stand close to the mage; it’s safer to throw a well over someone nearby.”

  “Not easier, but safer, you say.”

  She nodded. “That’s what I was trying to explain the other day, at the—farm. The dissipation efficiency decreases with distance. And since the residual energy reaches the caster….”

  He frowned thoughtfully, and then he shrugged and offered a half-smile. “I always thought mages did not protect ordinary soldiers because they were too busy protecting mages.”

  “No! No, it’s not—it’s not like that at all. Trying to cast an inversion well over so many people would—the mages would die. And soldiers are in less danger from magical attack, anyway.”

  Becknam’s expression closed again. “My men are in very real danger on the battlefield, my lady.”

  Tam drummed his heels against the legs of his chair and stared at the table.

  Ariana nodded. “I didn’t mean they weren’t. It’s… Those without mage-skill are less susceptible to magic. A magical bolt that would kill a mage might only wound a soldier.” She leaned forward. “So a mage might die to spare a soldier a clout on the head. Do you see?”

  “I know the mages are more susceptible to magic. I meant the soldiers are not un-susceptible.” He scowled. “All we’re told is that the greater mages are there to fight and the lesser mages are there to protect the greater mages.”