Both Dachido and Takado had looked at her in silence, but neither of them argued against her choice. Dachido had turned to Takado then, his expression almost apologetic.
“I, too, am going to call in a favour. With a sea trader. How do you fancy sailing the seas of the south?”
Takado had grimaced, then patted Dachido on the shoulder. “Thank you for the offer, but I think I’d rather Emperor Vochira cut out my heart than spend the rest of my days stuck on a ship.” He sighed and looked out towards Arvice. “I belong here.”
“In hiding?” Dachido asked. “An ichani?”
“I have always regarded ichani – most ichani – as my equals,” Takado said, with a hint of pride. “It will be no shame to me to wear the term. After all, I began this for their benefit, so they would have a chance to own land and throw off their outcast status.”
“I hope they remember that, if you encounter any,” Asara said. “Those that remained here were clearly not impressed enough by you to join your cause. And you led a lot of their kind to their deaths.”
“Perhaps if I found them another place to make their own...” Takado began, but then he shook his head. “Unless they don’t mind living on a volcano, I doubt there’s anything I can offer them.”
Having decided their futures, the three magicians had slept soundly for the first time in weeks. Hanara and the other slaves had taken turns keeping watch.
Hearing movement behind him, Hanara looked over his shoulder to see that Takado, Asara and Dachido were now standing, regarding each other with expectant looks. Then Takado grasped the others’ shoulders.
“Thank you for answering my call,” he said. “I would rather we were arranging Kyralia to our liking right now instead of parting ways, but I am proud to have fought beside you both.” He paused, his eyes flickering to Hanara.
Hanara forced himself to turn away and look at the road, but his eyes itched to witness the moment taking place behind him. At least he could hear it.
“It was a grand idea, your plan to conquer Kyralia,” Asara said. “And it almost worked. I’ll never regret the attempt.”
“Nor I,” Dachido agreed. “I have fought beside great men – and women – which is more than my father or grandfather could claim.”
“It was fun, wasn’t it?” Takado laughed, but then he sighed. “I am glad I had you two to advise and support me. I’m sure I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I hope we will meet again some day.”
“Is there a way we can keep in contact safely?” Asara wondered aloud.
“We could leave messages somewhere. Send slaves to deliver or check for them,” Dachido suggested.
“Where?” Takado asked.
Something shifted before Hanara’s eyes. He blinked and stared at the road winding down the side of the mountain. Then he blinked again.
Men. Horses. At least a hundred of them so far, turning into sight around a curve in the road. He should have seen them when they had first emerged from the pass. Turning, he rose and hurried over to Takado, threw himself on the ground and waited.
The three magicians stopped talking.
“What is it?” Takado asked, his voice low with annoyance.
“Riders,” Hanara said. “Coming into Sachaka.”
“
Hurried footsteps led away to the edge of the rock shelf. As Hanara rose he heard Takado curse. The other two slaves exchanged glances, then tentatively hurried after their owners. Hanara followed.
“What are they doing?” Asara asked.
“I doubt they’re paying the emperor a friendly visit,” Dachido replied.
“
“Why not?” Takado said darkly. He sounded tired. Resigned. “They defeated us easily. Why not invade us in return?”
“Are they after revenge?” Asara sounded angry now.
“Probably, but I doubt that’s their only reason. Beating us has given them confidence.” He paused. “Perhaps a little too much.”
“If they lose, there’ll be nothing to stop us returning to Kyralia,” Dachido pointed out, a hint of excitement in his voice.
Takado turned to his friend and smiled. “That is true.”
Looking at them both, Asara became thoughtful. “So we wait here until they pass, then go back and take over Kyralia?”
Takado frowned. “And in the meantime, they invade Sachaka. No. We can’t abandon our homeland.”
“Surely there’s no risk the Kyralians will succeed,” Asara said.
“If we warn Emperor Vochir there’s an army coming . . .” Dachido began. “If we help in the fight...”
“He might forgive us for getting him into such a mess in the first place?” Asara asked. As Takado frowned at her, she shook her head. “I think he would kill us first and discover the truth of our warning later.” She looked out at the army and sighed. “But I can’t run away from this. I can’t abandon our people. We must warn them.”
Dachido nodded. “At the very least.”
They both turned to Takado, who nodded. “Of course we must.” Then he smiled. “And I’m sure we’ll find a way to come out the heroes and saviours in this. We only need to stay alive long enough to arrange it.”
At first there had been little vegetation to block the view of the land below. Jayan had traced the lines of roads, noting where they intersected or vanished in the distance. He’d studied the courses of rivers and positions of houses, trying to create a map in his mind. Though there were clusters of houses, they didn’t follow the familiar layout of Kyralian villages. They were positioned off the road, enclosed by walls.
Eventually the road from the pass descended into forested slopes similar to those on the other side of the mountains. They could have been travelling in Kyralia, then. Everything looked the same, from the types of trees to the colour of the rocky ground. The air grew steadily warmer, until it was as hot as the hottest summer days he remembered while living in Mandryn.
Hearing a sigh, he glanced at Mikken. The young man was wiping his brow with his sleeve. He met Jayan’s gaze and grimaced.
Smiling crookedly, Jayan looked ahead. How well was Tessia coping with the heat? She was riding alone, he saw. Dakon was further ahead talking to Narvelan. Urging his horse into a trot, Jayan caught up with her. She looked at him, her brow creased by a frown.
“How are you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Worried.”
Jayan felt a flash of concern. “About Dakon? Yourself?”
“No.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the riders ahead. “About us all. About the future. This... this invasion of Sachaka.”
“You’re worried we’ll lose?”
“Yes. Or that we’ll win.”
Jayan smiled, but her expression remained serious. “What’s the problem with winning?”
She sighed. “They’ll hate us. We already hate them. We’re seeking revenge for them invading us. They’ll then seek revenge for us invading them. It’ll go on and on. Never ending.”
“They can’t invade us in revenge if we win,” Jayan pointed out. “We’ll be in charge.”
“They’ll rebel. They’ll find ways to make controlling them cost us more than we gain.” She paused. “Dakon has been telling me what Kyralians and Elynes did in order to get Sachaka to grant us independence last time.”
“Ah.” Jayan nodded. “I’ve had those lessons too. But the situation is not the same. They imposed slavery on us. We’ll end it here. They made the strong weak, we’ll make the weak strong.”
“The slaves?” She shook her head. “We’re relying too much on the idea that Sachaka’s slaves are going to rejoice at us marching in and changing their lives. They may not want us to. They may be loyal to their masters. Hanara returned to Takado, after all. They may not co-operate. They may resist us. Non-magicians can fight, too.
