“Healer Heklatis!” he said in surprise. “But what—”
“The Temple of All Gods is no longer a safe haven for me,” the Akkadian said grimly. There was no smile in his eyes at all. “Or at least for my magic. I suspect a spy has been planted in the Temple of All Gods, and since the Magi are looking very, very hard for a mythical Tian Priest-Mage on the Second Ring, I deemed it wise to come assign myself to the military on Third Ring.”
“That is an ugly thought, Healer,” Kiron replied. “Though—maybe a wise one.”
“There is an uglier scar on the Second Ring, provoked by no more than a demand for truth, Jouster,” said Heklatis grimly. “And truth and trust are the means by which civilization holds off barbarism. When those in power intend to abuse that power, they look to an outside enemy in order to trick their people into pressing the means to their own abuse into the hands of the abusers. If an enemy does not exist, it will be manufactured, and all manner of horrors attributed to it, so that anyone who demands truth and accountability is set upon as being unpatriotic. And so that, when someone said to be an enemy is found, there will be few questions asked about guilt or innocence, and many faces averted when he is taken away.”
Kiron thought about his own experience in the Fourth Ring, and nodded.
“Now,” continued Heklatis, “I could remain in the Temple of All Gods and take my chances on being discovered as a clandestine Magus—and knowing that the Magi of the Tower are bent on finding a foreign enemy Magus, I think we can both see where that would take me. Since I do not desire to be cast into a dungeon to rot, or killed, or tormented to reveal what I allegedly know, I have come to offer my services to the military—the Jousters, to be specific, because I also have no wish to see the war from close at hand.”
“You have not come to me, I hope!” Kiron replied. “I have no power to engage you—”
“No, to Lord Khumun, of course, who has accepted me and my skills with thanks,” Heklatis responded. “Although he has told me to assign myself to the welfare of those on the Fourth and Fifth Ring during the current crisis. I confess that I am pleasantly surprised. I had not expected to find someone with a title who understands the responsibilities that should come with that title.”
“And does he know that you are a Magus?” Kiron asked sharply.
Heklatis shrugged. “I told him nothing but the truth; that Healers learn their trade differently in Akkad, which he already knew, and I feared that, being a foreigner, I might become a target for ill-will, which he quickly understood. If he asks, I will admit to him that I am also a Magus. If he does not, my silence is his best defense should I be traced here by your Magi.”
Kiron, who had been about to open his mouth to rebuke the Healer for not telling the whole truth, shut it again. Heklatis was right. “I hope you are going to be discreet, then,” he said.
Heklatis snorted, and favored him with a look of withering scorn. “I believe,” he replied, “that I am aware of the dangers. Especially as I was close enough to the lash of the Eye today to have cooked my dinner in its fires.”
“They gave no warning?” Kiron said, aghast. He had assumed that the Magi would at least have warned people that the punishment was coming! Even a moment or two would have been enough!
“None. And while I have not heard of any that died there, well, the question is, would I?” Heklatis asked. “After claiming first that they had found a plague spot, and when that was not believed, that they had uncovered a nest of traitors, would anyone come forward and say, ‘You incinerated my poor, innocent cousin without warning?’ I think it unlikely.”
Aket-ten had been silent throughout this conversation. Finally, she said, in a very small voice, “How can the Great Ones be unaware of this?”
“If they are unaware,” Heklatis said bitterly, “they must be complete idiots, and I had never heard that of them. Oh, they know. They just do not care—so long as what they wish is done. The Magi are too useful to them, for some reason, and they count the lives of mere Altan citizens of no account, I suspect. But they will never admit that they know what the Magi are doing, because then people would say that they did not care about untruth and injustice. And they will not welcome anyone who tries to enlighten them as to true conditions.”
“Oh—oh, no—” Aket-ten said in dismay.
“Toreth—Toreth has gone to the Palace, to demand audience of the Great Ones by right of being the Heir,” she said, and clapped her hand over her mouth. “When the Eye was opened, he said that you had predicted this, and that the Great Ones must be told what the Magi have done!”
“The poor fool.” Heklatis slumped where he sat. “I only pray he has not signed his own death warrant.”
“But you fear he has,” Kiron said heavily. The Healer nodded, as Aket-ten looked from one to the other in horror.
“Surely not,” stammered Aket-ten. “He and Kaleth are the Heirs!”
“Well,” the Healer said, too heartily. “He and his brother are favored of the gods. Surely.”
“Surely,” said Kiron, who did not believe it at all.
Toreth did not return in time to feed his dragonet; they could not leave the poor thing alone, so Aket-ten did it for him, then brought in Wastet to play with her until they were both tired. At that point, Kiron decided that he had to tell the other boys of the wing just where Toreth had gone, and why.
Gan and Orest were the only ones who were truly concerned. The rest of them looked anxious for a moment, then Oset-re said, “Ah, he’s God-watched, that one! He can fall in the marsh and come up clean, with
Not for Kiron—and not for Gan and Orest either. He saw it in their faces and, no doubt, they saw it in his.
But Toreth did not return in time for dinner, and by that time, Kiron decided to go to Lord Khumun.
He did not tell Lord Khumun about their speculation—that the Magi were prolonging their own lives, and possibly the lives of the Great Ones, at the expense of others. He did tell Lord Khumun what he had seen—first the Fledglings, then the Winged Ones, being taken off by the Magi and returned looking drained. He spoke of the confrontation, the accusations, of telling Toreth about it, and his own prediction that the Magi would take revenge for the affront by using the Eye on those who had insulted them so gravely. And he repeated what Aket-ten had told him about Toreth. His Lordship heard him out, his face a mask, then shook his head. “The Magi are high in the councils of the Great Ones. I do not think you or Toreth truly understand their power. You should know I can do nothing against them,” he said heavily, with the sound of defeat in his words. “The Great Ones will hear no word against them.”
“And there are other possible Heirs,” Kiron replied, voice flat and dead, nausea rising in the back of his throat. His worst fears were confirmed—and despite what Lord Khumun thought, he understood only too well that the Magi were far more powerful than Toreth had believed.
Lord Khumun nodded, then mustered a smile. “But Toreth is a young man, a boy, even, and the hot words of boys are without meaning. I cannot imagine the Great Ones taking him seriously. They are probably administering a lecture to him about meddling in things he does not understand at this very moment.” His own words seemed to hearten the Lord of the Jousters, and he sounded more sure of himself. “He will be in disgrace for a time—but they cannot take him from the Jousters, and they cannot take his companions from him, and the gods know his heart is true. Go wait in his quarters for him, for he will probably be in need of his friends.”
Kiron bowed, and left, feeling himself divided by his emotions. On the one hand, he was very angry with Lord Khumun for not standing up for Toreth. On the other—he understood, only too well, that Lord Khumun’s hands were tied. And surely Lord Khumun was right; if anyone should know the way of things, Lord Khumun would. His fears must be unfounded. The Magi couldn’t take the words of even a young prince as a threat.
So he did as he had been told; he went back to the pens, and waited, but as the time crept on, he felt his heart sinking. And his hope faded of ever seeing Toreth again. Little Re-eth-katen was unwontedly silent, and curled into her sands like a blue-and-silver shadow, ignoring him.
