bears and carrion attracts wolves, they whose arrow and whose spear cannot be turned aside, not by any human power or cunning or strength. Not even by his.'
I braced, my left hand at the sword's hilt, but Andevai had more self-control than I had realized. His jaw tightened. The hearth fire dimmed, but it did not go out.
His grandmother certainly did not fear him. 'On Hallows Night, the masters cut out the souls of those who will cross over to the other side in the coming year. My son is infested with fever. His body will not outlast this winter. This I have seen. I also have few enough days left in this flesh, so I will see you, sons of different mothers, embrace this night. Even if you cannot like each other, then promise me for the sake of the village never to fight one another. I will always be watching.'
Duvai grunted, almost inaudibly. 'It will be as you wish, Mother,' he said.
I had not thought it possible for Andevai's haughty posture to grow more stiff, but it did. 'It will be as you wish,' he echoed softly.
The two men embraced, but I had seen snarling dogs more companionable. They parted awkwardly.
Andevai went over and knelt on the pillow. He took his grandmother's thin hands in his own and bent to kiss her hollow cheek. 'I missed you, Mother.'
Duvai snorted.
This time the fire did go out, and a spurt of ash rose. Strangely, the tapers that lit the room kept burning undisturbed.
'Let the festival be danced,' she said to Duvai. 'I will hear and dance with you. On such a night, trouble may come to the gate if things are not done properly.'
'Of course, Mother,' he said with more warmth than before. He said nothing to Andevai but left. The attendant emerged from the shadows opposite and knelt at the fire to set new kindling.
'Don't bother,' said Andevai. 'It won't light until I'm gone.'
She continued with her task as if she had not heard him.
'You are come late, Vai. You who study the magic of winter are most at risk. You dare not walk abroad on the day when the veil is thinnest and the hunt rides. For I am sure the tales tell us that the ancient ones who rule in the other world distrust mag-isters most of all.'
'They hunt down those who become too powerful and draw their notice, so we are told, but you can be sure I am not taught enough to become truly powerful. Not I, the son of slaves.'
'Is that a bitter apple, son?'
He grimaced. 'I asked for nothing. I wanted to be a hunter, not a cold mage.'
'Yet you are what you are.'
'So I am. Now I am responsible for all of you, as I am reminded every day at the House. Trouble runs at my heels like a pack of wolves. The mansa has ordered me to kill a person.'
'That is a heavy task. What manner of person?'
'I have to do it. I have no choice. That is not why I came, Mother. This night and day I cannot travel abroad- no magis-ter can, although our servants can ride where they wish, evidently.' How annoyed he sounded! How glad I was that the eru and the coachman had the power to tweak the noses of the proud House mages! 'So 1 stopped to see you,' he continued, as
humbly as an affectionate child. 'The visits I make here are what sustain me through the rest of the year. It will be a colder
winter than most…' He faltered, voice choked, and after a
moment continued. 'Best I go see Fa now, to greet him, and then to see my own mama. What news of my mama, Mother?' His voice trembled on the words. Beyond the walls of the house, the drums rolled loudly and in unison as youthful voices whooped and cried out, breaking into song.
'The Hallows fire is being lit,' remarked the old woman.
'There is no place for me at a fire's lighting,' he answered curtly.
The drums fell into a shared rhythm, one that made my shoulders twitch. I recognized the measure of the drum, calling 'koukou,' which we'd learned from friends in the city. The sound came closer, as at a procession winding through the compounds of the village.
'Best you wait until dawn to greet your mama. No good for her will come if she is woken now that the medicine has taken effect, for they dosed her before dusk. You may as well go on to the celebration. Let the old and ill take their needed rest while the young dance.' The procession's clamor lessened as it moved away through the village. 'If you go to Kayleigh now, she'll fit you with proper clothes.'
He lifted a hand to touch his fine, elegant jacket with a self-conscious lift of his chin. 'Is Kayleigh well, Mother? Is there any trouble for her?'
'No soldiers have trampled through our village's fields since you went up to the House seven years ago.'
He ducked his head as if the words pinched him. 'But they will. There's worse, Mother. The mansa himself told me today that he intends to take Kayleigh to his bed, to see if more magis-ters can be bred out of our bloodline. What am I to do?'
'What can yon do, Vai? The magister who sired your father
on me did not ask my permission. The magister's gift-if indeed it came from him-lay quiet in your father, but it has woken in you.
'More curse than gift.'
'Truly, Andevai, if you could be shed of it, would you?'
'No.' He cupped a hand over his eyes to shield his face. 'Even to what I endure at the House, I will suffer it in order to learn.' When he lowered the hand, his expression was knit of iron. 'It would not matter even if I wished. I belong to Four Moons House, as does this village. I must obey them, or it will be the worse for all of you.'
'Has the mansa threatened you?'
'That he chooses today to inform me of his plans for my sister? That he reminds me that without the medicine provided by the House, my mother will die? That he mentions this village's obligations to the House? Are these not all threats? Because I failed to properly do what he asked me to do? Maybe there is nothing I can do to make it right no matter what happens. But my only leverage-as the Greeks would say-is to gain enough favor in their eyes by doing what I am required to do. Then, perhaps, the mansa will, one time, allow me to spare Kayleigh being dragged off to suffer his attentions.'
'I doubt it.'
He hissed in a breath. 'I am trapped. What is one life set against all that?'
'A question you will have to answer.'
'They despise me, Mother. Whatever stories I may tell my mama so that she does not worry, you know the truth of it. I am nothing to them, only they cannot waste me because I am too powerful.'
'Is there no other House where you can go?'
'They dare not cast me out, because they know another House will take me. They will not trade me away because 1 am too valuable. Even if I ran away, no other House will shelter me. They wouldn't dare risk the mansa's enmity should he discover where I was hiding. Anyhow, if I were to leave my teacher on bad terms, what other teacher would take me in?'
'Is there no life for you outside a mage House?'
'Why do you even ask?' he cried bitterly. 'Do you think I would be better off an outlaw starving in the hills? No princely house can take me in, because the mage Houses would turn on it and destroy it. No guild will take me, for the same reason. And, anyway, what guild would admit a poor village man with no guild connections, n*6 property, and no craft? I suppose I might walk to a city and seek work as a laborer. No cold mage survives for long outside the protection of a House. People fear and resent us. My own father's other son fears and resents me! Even a magister cannot stay awake always. You know the saying: Saber-cats, wolves, and mages can be killed when they sleep. But, anyway, let's say I could. I might be able to escape them. Let's say I could travel to Qart Hadast or into the Barren Lands or across the ocean to Expedition. I have skills, and I have power-then what? I could hunt, maybe. I remember what hunting magic I learned from Fa before the cold magic bloomed and the House took me away. But do you think I would abandon you and my mother and sisters and my kin and the village to the mansa's anger? Because he will punish you to get back at me. So even if I could walk free, you cannot.'
Even wrapped in my fur-lined cloak, I was by now shivering where I crouched. Crystals of ice skinned the surface of my uneaten porridge as the sorcery of winter radiated from him, released by his emotions. The fire was
