Alta

The talk might have gone on long into the night if they had no one to think about but themselves—

—but of course, they didn’t.

“I have a hungry dragonet to feed in the morning,” Orest said, getting to his feet and stretching.

“As if the rest of us didn’t?” retorted Gan. “You’re right, though; morning is going to come far too quickly.”

The rest of them said their good nights and went back to their pens. All but Toreth, who lingered for a moment.

“Were you thinking about the Magi?” he asked, coming straight to the point.

Kiron nodded. “But don’t forget, they aren’t to be trusted,” he warned. “They could find some other means of gathering years. They haven’t resorted to outright, cold-blooded murder yet—”

“—that we know of—” corrected Toreth.

Kiron shivered involuntarily. “That we know of,” he agreed. “Still. If they were desperate—”

“Then we have to deal with them before they realize they are that desperate,” Toreth replied grimly. “Just so you know.”

And with that, he returned to his pen as well, leaving Kiron to put out his lamps and climb into his own cot.

His mind played host to some very disturbing thoughts before sleep finally claimed him.

“Father says they’ve taken the spy out of the household,” Aket-ten announced happily, the next time he came to visit her. “And the priest in charge of all of the Far-Sighted Winged Ones came to visit him right after.”

“Really?” he said. “I’ll tell you what, let’s take this into your garden. Just to be on the safe side.”

With the coming of good weather, it was possible to actually enjoy that courtyard with its latas pool that lay just outside her room. It was his considered opinion that she spent far too much time in the library, or otherwise indoors.

She nodded, and opened the door into the green space. It was a distinct improvement over being inside, especially on such a warm, pleasant day, with the scent of blooming latas in the air. The courtyard was covered in grass, not pavement, and the two of them were able to sprawl at their ease in the sunlight. Aket-ten brought a bread loaf out with her; it wasn’t long before she was breaking off crumbs to feed the fat carp that lazed in the pool.

“Now. This important priest came to see your father. Is that good or bad news?” Kiron asked warily.

“Good news,” she assured him with a laugh. “He told Father that none of the Winged Ones had sensed anything from me, and they were sure that if I still had my powers, I would have made every effort to Speak from afar with my teachers.” She giggled; he sensed it was because she was a little giddy with relief, rather than that she actually thought it was funny.

“So they don’t know that you don’t trust them anymore. Good,” he replied.

She nodded, and dusted the last of the crumbs from her hands. “He offered Father his condolences; Father said it made for an interesting conversation. It seemed as if—Father said—that he was disappointed and relieved, all at the same time.”

“Maybe he was,” Kiron said, thinking aloud. “If he’s really unhappy about the way that the Magi are using the Fledglings, he could be relieved that they aren’t going to be able to use you anymore. But on the other hand, since everyone thought you were going to be so strong in your powers, and now they think that you aren’t, he’s disappointed.”

“Well, he can just go on being disappointed,” she replied tartly—and resentfully. Not that he blamed her. He’d have been resentful and holding a grudge if he had been in her place. “And if he’s upset about the way the Fledglings are being used, why doesn’t he stop them? Anyway, Father thinks it’s safe for me to go back.”

Kiron sucked on his lower lip a moment. “It could be. But let’s think about how. I wouldn’t bet that the Magi are going to take the word of the Winged Ones as true. I don’t think the Magi trust anyone. I think that as soon as you are back in your home, they’ll send someone to have a look at you.”

“So?” she asked, hesitation creeping into her voice.

“So I think you ought to be ready to give them a show,” he told her, and he pushed himself up out of the grass. “Let’s go find that crafty Akkadian Healer of yours, and see what he thinks.”

The Akkadian—who was a short, bandy-legged fellow with a knowing look to him and a full, bushy head of silver-streaked, curly black hair—had plenty of ideas and was just as suspicious of the Magi as Kiron was.

“You’ll keep those amulets, of course,” he told Aket-ten, brusquely. “I don’t care how good those Magi are, my amulets will make them think you are a perfectly ordinary girl.”

It took them a little while to put the “show” together, but when they were through, even the suspicious Akkadian was satisfied that it was going to hold up to scrutiny. Furthermore, he agreed to be there the next time that Lord Ya-tiren came to visit, in order to add his weight of authority and experience to Aket-ten’s pleas for caution. Kiron went back to the compound feeling that Aket-ten’s safety was in capable hands.

Kiron was not there at Lord Ya-tiren’s villa when the cart from the country brought Aket-ten “back home” again, but as it happened, by purest chance he was visiting Aket-ten a day later, sitting with her in her courtyard, when a servant came and requested her presence in her father’s chamber. “My Lord said to tell you that there is a distinguished visitor to see you.”

Kiron and Aket-ten exchanged a glance; they both knew that “distinguished visitor” meant that one of the Magi had, as Kiron had predicted, decided to come to see for himself if Aket-ten really had lost her powers. “Tell my father that I will be there shortly,” she said.

“I’d like to come along,” said Kiron when they were alone in the courtyard again. “I’ve never seen a Magus. And Lord Ya-tiren didn’t say that you were to come alone.”

“No,” she admitted thoughtfully. “He didn’t. And he knows you’re here. I think that’s a good idea, and I have the feeling that he would like you to be there.”

So when a rather different version of Aket-ten emerged from her chamber, he got a chance to see what his suggestions and the Akkadian’s looked like in practice.

If he hadn’t known what was going on, he’d have been shocked to his toes by how wretched she looked.

Firstly, Aket-ten looked shrunken and unnaturally thin—which was the effect of wearing a gown that was two sizes too big for her, with a belt to match. That had been the Akkadian’s idea, to make it appear that she had lost an enormous amount of weight and might still be weak and sickly. Her hair was dull, lank and stringy (a bit of oil combed through it and dirt dusted in afterward). There were dark shadows under her eyes (a touch of kohl smudged beneath them) and her skin looked sallow (effective use of a very expensive bit of saffron rubbed into the skin to make it yellowed). The Akkadian had coached her on how to move; Kiron hadn’t seen that part of the preparations, but the clever Healer had evidently done a fine job of teaching her, for she looked timid, uncertain, and lacking in all self-confidence. He escorted her to her father’s private audience chamber, and had the satisfaction of seeing a startled look on the face of the stranger who was waiting there.

As he had said, he had never seen one of the Magi before; somehow he had gotten the image of a wizened, oily, unpleasant little sneak.

The stranger was indeed unpleasant, but it was because he oozed arrogance. Some might have considered him a handsome man, save for that. He was neither oily nor wizened, and gave no impression of being a sneak. Rather, he was out of the same mold as the most obnoxiously proud and self-assured Tian Jousters that Kiron had known.

He thinks that whether or not we know it, he knows that he is the master here. He knows that he can take whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, and there is nothing that we can do about it.

The man’s attitude put his back up, but Kiron controlled his reactions and his temper. The last thing he wanted the Magus to know was that he had the measure of the man.

He assumes I’m just a foolish boy, like Orest used to be. I want him to go on assuming that!

Aket-ten stood before the visitor with her head bowed, her shoulders hunched. The Magus looked down at her with a dissatisfied expression, but his words were pleasant enough.

“I am told that your powers have faded, young Fledgling?” he said, in a voice that would have sounded kindly if you hadn’t been aware of the anger beneath it.