Jayan sighed. “Weren’t happy to see us and didn’t much like our plans for them.”
“So Narvelan offered them their freedom?”
“Yes.” Jayan frowned and looked at Dakon again. Tessia glimpsed pain, guilt and a darkness in his eyes, then his expression became guarded. “When we arrived they opened doors for us, then threw themselves flat on the ground. Narvelan told them to get up. He told them we were there to free them, if they cooperated with us. Then he began to ask questions. They told us their master was away, and who he was, but when he asked where he was it was clear they were lying.”
He grimaced. “So Narvelan ordered one to approach, and he read the man’s mind. He saw that they had sent messengers to their master, who is visiting a neighbour, and that they were loyal to him. Afraid of him, but loyal. They did not understand what freedom was. Our offer was meaningless to them.
“We started to argue about what to do next, but Narvelan said we had no time. The slaves were already spreading word of us. We must stop them and we must take their power. So we did, while he left to catch up with the messengers.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “When he returned he found we had done what we’d agreed – left the slaves alive but too exhausted to move. He looked at them and said we had to kill them. In a few hours they would have regained enough strength to leave and warn of our approach. So . . .” Jayan closed his eyes. “So he killed them. To save us the... from feeling responsible.”
A shiver of horror ran down Tessia’s spine and she heard Mikken curse under his breath. She tried not to imagine the slaves, too exhausted to move, realising as the first of their number died that they faced the same fate and knowing they were helpless to stop it, to even run.
Dakon looked at Narvelan and the king, then back at Jayan.
“Ah,” he said. Instead of anger, Tessia saw sadness in her master’s face. Then his eyes narrowed. She looked over at the army leaders. They had begun to move forward, Narvelan riding at the king’s side, smiling.
“How many? How many slaves?” she asked, then wondered why it was suddenly so important.
He looked at her strangely. “Over a hundred.” Then his frown faded and he managed a weak smile. “Not even your healing will help, I’m afraid. Not this time.” He looked away. “I wish it could.”
“What I don’t understand,” Mikken said after a while, “is why Narvelan thought killing the slaves would prevent the Sachakans realising we were here. Once their master returns home it will be obvious something is wrong. And surely the Sachakans are going to notice a few hundred Kyralians riding through and camping in their land.”
“Yes,” Dakon agreed. “I’m wondering why we ever thought we’d be able to sneak up on them. Or why those who should know better even suggested it.”
“Do you think they said whatever they thought would get the army here, knowing that once we were we couldn’t change our minds?” Tessia asked.
Neither Dakon nor Jayan answered. But they didn’t need to. The anger she had expected from Dakon earlier was now clear in his face. Jayan looked worried. For that, she felt a pang of sympathy. He must feel as if he’d taken part in the slaughter of the slaves.
“I think,” Jayan said, so quietly that Tessia was only just able to hear him. “I think Lord Narvelan may be a little mad. And the king knows it, and is letting him do what the rest of us might not.”
Dakon nodded slowly, his gaze still on his neighbour and friend. “I’m afraid you may be right, Jayan.”
From within the corridor, Hanara watched as another man entered the master’s room and was greeted by Ashaki Charaka. The man wore a knife at his belt, so he was also a magician. He greeted Takado, Asara and Dachido with friendly curiosity and a touch of admiration. Hanara felt a familiar pride. The long-life feeling.
Beside him, Asara’s slave stirred. “Something’s not right,” she whispered.
His stomach clenched and the long-life feeling vanished. He scowled at her. “What?”
She shook her head, her eyes dark with fear. “I don’t know. Something.”
He turned away. Foolish woman. He looked at the magicians who had gathered to meet his master. Ashaki Charaka was old, but moved with the confidence of a man used to power and respect. The others were from neighbouring estates. Most of their domains weren’t in the path of the Kyralian army. Unable to take the road, since the Kyralians were using it, and travelling on foot, Takado and his friends had spent two days descending the mountain. They took a direct route that put them in land a few estates away from those most likely to be invaded first.
The magicians didn’t know about the enemy army yet. Takado was clearly waiting for the right time to tell them. Instead he had begun relating stories of the early days in Kyralia, of villages of people left to their own devices, working the land belonging to their master as they pleased, without his protection. How easy they were to take.
The other magicians listened closely. Hanara watched each of them in turn. None of the five hesitated to ask questions, and Takado answered with an honesty that clearly surprised them.
“They have developed new fighting strategies,” Takado told them, while Asara and Dachido nodded. “In groups, so that when one member is exhausted he or she relies on the others for protection. When the whole group is exhausted they join another group. It is surprisingly effective.”
“What happens when they are all exhausted?” one of the listeners asked.
“They never got to that point, though they came close,” Asara replied.
“I suspect we would have an entire army of exhausted magicians to kill off as we pleased.” Takado shrugged.
“But you never got to that point?”
Takado shook his head and began describing the first battle. When he reached the point where the Kyralian army began retreating he stopped.
“But . . .” one of the listeners said. “If they were retreating they must have been close to finished. Why didn’t you follow?”
“Nomako,” Dachido answered, his voice low and full of derision. “He tried to take command at that point.”
“He made a fool of himself,” Asara said. “We would have won then, but for the delay. The Kyralians removed their people from the towns in our path, so we weren’t able to boost our strength as well as we should have.”
“But in the next battle . . .” Takado began.
Hanara did not hear any more. Footsteps in the corridor covered the voices. He watched as slaves filed past, taking platters laden with food into the master’s room for hosts and guests to feast on. At the smell of the food Hanara’s stomach ached and groaned. For days he’d eaten only scrawny, magic-roasted birds and what herbs and edible plants he could find in the mountains.
When the magicians had finished and the last of the platters had been taken away, he felt a nudge at his elbow. Turning, he saw a child slave holding out one of the platters. Scraps of roasted meat and vegetables lay in congealing sauce.
Hanara grabbed a handful and ate quickly. Such opportunities had to be seized, whether in the midst of war or in the peaceful mansions of home. Dachido’s slave ate just as hungrily, but Asara’s slave was hesitating. He looked at her questioningly. She was frowning at the food in suspicion, but he could hear her stomach rumbling.
As he reached for the last morsel of food, she suddenly snatched it out from under his hand. Even then she didn’t eat straight away. She looked at him closely, then at Dachido’s slave. Hanara shrugged. He turned back to watch and listen to Takado. After a moment he heard her eating and smiled to himself.
“Now the last battle,” the host said. “What went wrong there?”
Takado scowled. “Bad timing. Nomako hadn’t told me that he’d sent two groups to the west and south to subdue those areas and gather strength before meeting up with us outside Imardin. Nomako convinced us that we should wait for the southern group to arrive so we were as strong as possible before facing the Kyralians. He said the Kyralian people would not submit to giving their strength to their masters, since they were not slaves.” He shook his head. “I had doubts, but since most of the fighters were now his men, and he had threatened to withdraw their support . . .”
“He was wrong. We believe the entire city gave its strength to the Kyralian army,” Dachido said.
