increase in cost to the City—both magickal cost, which maybe the common folk wouldn't notice, but also the cost in people to send to hold those new lands, which was why the people would have to know: those Militia troops he'd seen in Idalia's vision were going to have to come from somewhere, after all.
And troops had to be paid and provisioned—fed and clothed and given horses and armor and weapons—and the money for all of that had to come from somewhere. New taxes, which maybe the common folk wouldn't notice, but also the cost in people—drawn from the Home Farms, of course—sent to hold the new territory; those Militia troops he'd seen spoken of in Idalia's vision.
And if the villages fought back… ? More troops would surely be sent.
Then the cost goes up. And they'll notice that, that's for sure, Kellen thought bleakly. Everywhere he'd ever gone in the City—outside of the Mage Quarter, of course—taxes had always been a major topic of discussion. But what would the people do about it?
He had no idea.
But—probably nothing. So long as nothing changes for each of them personally, they probably won't care. The Council has kept other things secret, why not this?
It wouldn't be that hard, so long as the Mages were able to keep the fact that there was actual fighting going on a secret. If they actually sent non-Mages outside the walls—Kellen supposed it was possible; he wouldn't put anything past the Council at this point—all they had to do was just remove those inconvenient memories from the soldiers once the men returned, and, oh, tell them they'd been to the Out Islands, or something. Even if people from Armethalieh actually died, it could be covered up. Tell grieving relatives that their sons died of a snakebite, or sudden fever, or an accidental fall. All those things could happen in the City. Just make sure that relatives of the dead didn't get together and discover how many 'accidents' there were. The bodies would be given back to the Light, and the Mages would be able to keep their dirty little secrets.
With careful management, no one would ever find out what was really happening, at least, not in Armethalieh.
Not that anyone ever did know what was really happening.
'Not in Armethalieh,' Kellen said aloud, watching the mule's ears swivel around to catch the words.
When the animals had finished their breakfast, Kellen took them down to the stream for a drink.
HE was standing beside them, not thinking about anything in particular, when there was a splash at his feet. He looked down.
There was a selkie in the water. Kellen had seen them only rarely; the sleek, dark-furred, big-eyed creatures were shy of humans, preferring deep woods and twilight, although once they got over their shyness, they were as playful as otters and twice as amusing, because of their keen senses of humor. Many of them lived in or near the ocean, where they were usually mistaken for seals by those humans who managed to glimpse them. This one blinked up at him, its large silver eyes a startling paleness in its dark-furred face.
'Kellen isss leaving?' the selkie asked, its long whiskers bristling as it spoke. 'Idalia isss leaving?'
'Yes,' Kellen said. He was surprised to see it at all. He'd thought all the river-folk, selkies and undines and water-sprites, were already safely gone, warned by Shalkan and the others who carried his message. 'And you should leave, too. The City is coming. The Mages don't like your kind. They're sending a Scouring Hunt.' And even if stone mastiffs couldn't swim very well—not at all, in fact—that hardly mattered, since they didn't need to breathe. Land or water, no place was safe.
'I go,' the selkie agreed, speaking slowly and carefully. Its short sharp-toothed muzzle wasn't well shaped for forming human speech—the selkies' own language consisted of guttural barks and high-pitched chittering—but selkies loved all things new and strange, and found the effort of speaking to humans in their own language enormously entertaining. 'Take fissshhh, too. AW fisshhh. We take.' Its round silver eyes crinkled in merriment, inviting Kellen to share the joke.
Kellen blinked, slowly understanding what the selkie was telling him. All the fish? From all the rivers? Gone?
He began to laugh. 'You do that, friend. Take the fish. All the fish. And good luck to you.'
The selkie reached up out of the water, extending its paw to Kellen, fingers spread wide. Kellen could see the thick webbing between the digits, the long curved gleaming nails that could shear through the toughest scales. He clasped the hand gently, and felt an answering pressure in return.
'Good-bye,' Kellen said. 'Fare you well.'
The selkie released his hand, and slipped beneath the surface of the water, invisible once more.
Shaking his head in amusement, Kellen led Coalwind and Prettyfoot back into the woods to fresh grazing. In a few hours he'd come back and lead them in closer to the cabin, tying them up securely for the night so they couldn't wander. He had no desire to spend several hours come tomorrow's dawn trying to find them!
