The Magician’s Apprentice

strength instead. And we’re taking none.”

“We should have befriended the slaves. We’d have thousands of them by now, following us and giving their strength every day.”

Mikken shook his head. “I don’t think they would have been that easy to win over. What Narvelan said was true. They’re loyal to their masters.”

“They just don’t believe anybody would free them. We should have at least tried to convince them we intended to.”

Mikken shrugged in that way people did when they didn’t agree, but also didn’t want to argue. She considered him for a moment, then looked away. For a time there she had found him charming and attractive. Now she was too tired and too disappointed in everything to find anyone appealing. Except Dakon, and then only as a teacher and protector. And Jayan too, possibly, though she couldn’t say why. He had become a friend of sorts. Or maybe just someone who agreed with her occasionally. Though he was an unreliable supporter, as likely to oppose her as to take her side.

“Tessia.”

She looked up to see Dakon striding towards her across the courtyard. He’d gone in search of food supplies with Jayan as soon as the army had moved into the collection of buildings. The homes abandoned by the Sachakans had proved to be the best places for the Kyralian army to stop and rest. As Dakon drew near she rose to her feet. It was impossible to guess his mood from his face. He wore a frown, but these days he always wore a frown.

“Two magicians have fallen ill,” he told her. “Could you have a look at them?”

“Of course.” She bent and picked up her bag.

He led her through the entrance of the house, then down one corridor after another. Tessia had noticed similarities in the houses they’d stayed in, and recognised aspects of them from the Sachakan-made houses in Imardin, though those had been larger and grander.

The collections of buildings had grown more frequent as the army drew closer to Arvice, but they hadn’t encountered any towns or villages. Jayan believed the estates were mostly self-sufficient, with trade for those goods not available on the estate happening directly with other estates.

The wood for furniture and such must come from somewhere, Tessia mused. We’ve also encountered no forests since we left the mountains. Just trees lining roads or forming avenues alongside roads, and the occasional copse sheltering domestic animals.

Dakon turned into a large room from which many smaller rooms opened. She had seen this arrangement before, too. Fine clothing of both adults and children was usually found stored in them, so she had come to think of them as family rooms.

Several magicians were standing in the larger room, and when they saw her they regarded her thoughtfully. She recognised Lord Bolvin and Lord Hakkin. And Dem Ayend was there.

Then a man stepped out from behind the Dem and she felt her heart skip a beat as she recognised him.

“Apprentice Tessia,” King Errik said. “I have heard much praise for your healing skill.” He gestured towards one of the smaller rooms. “These two magicians fell ill a short while ago. Could you examine them?”

“Of course, your majesty,” she replied, hastily bowing. He smiled and drew her into the small room, Dakon following. The sick men were lying on beds too short for their tall frames. Beds for children, she guessed. Their faces were creased with pain and their eyes appeared to be struggling to focus. She moved to one and felt for heat and pulse. “Exactly how long ago did they fall ill, and in what way?”

The king looked toward a middle-aged female servant standing beside one of the magicians’ beds.

“Half of an hour at most,” the woman told them. “He complained of cramps in the stomach. They emptied their stomachs and bowels and I thought the food might have been bad, but they got worse. That’s when I went for help.”

Tessia looked up at Dakon. “Better make sure nobody else eats whatever they had.”

Dakon nodded and beckoned to the servant. “Did you serve them?” The woman nodded. “Come and tell me what and where you got it from.”

Conscious that the king was watching her closely, as well as the magicians in the other room, Tessia placed a hand on the brow of one of the magicians. She closed her eyes and breathed quietly to calm her mind. Then she sent her senses out into his body.

As soon as she attuned herself to what he was feeling, pain and discomfort drew her to his stomach. Cramps sent ripples through muscle. His body was reacting and as she looked closer she saw that it was trying to expel something unwanted. That unwanted substance was acting on the body like a poison. And it was acting faster than the body could expel it.

Faster than when the servants were dying from bad food. They must have eaten something truly terrible or...or else they have been poisoned!

At this revelation she drew her senses back and opened her eyes. She looked up and found herself staring into the eyes of the king.

“Unless the food they’ve eaten is truly foul, I suspect this is the effect of poison,” she said.

His eyes widened, then he turned to look at Dakon, who had returned to the room. Tessia felt a pang of alarm and guilt. As the magician in charge of finding food, he could be held responsible for feeding poisoned food to the army. He met the king’s eyes and nodded.

“I’ll make sure nobody eats a bite until we find out whether all the food we have is safe.”

“All of it?” the king asked. “Surely only what we have found today.”

Dakon shook his head. “These magicians may have eaten something we’ve been carrying for a while, which hasn’t been cooked until now. The servant is fetching the cook who made the dish they ate.”

The king nodded, turned to Tessia, and then looked down at the magicians. “Will they live?”

“I...I don’t think so.”

“Can’t you heal them?”

He looked at her, his eyes staring into hers and seeming to plead with her. She looked away.

“I will try, but I can’t promise anything. I wasn’t able to save the servants who ate the spoiled food during the war, and this is far worse.”

“Try,” he ordered.

Loosening the neck of the tunic the magician wore, she placed her palm on the bare skin of his chest. Once more she closed her eyes and sent her mind forth. She saw immediately that the situation had grown worse. His heart was labouring; he was beginning to struggle to breathe.

First I should get rid of as much of the poison as I can, she thought. But not through the throat as he’s having enough trouble breathing as it is. I don’t want to choke him. Sending out magic, she created a flexible barrier around the contents of his stomach shaped like a scoop, and gently eased it through his bowels, gathering all residue on the way. She could not help feeling a wry amusement as she eased it out of his body. This is not going to smell good.

Now for the poison that has entered the channels and paths. She considered his systems carefully. All of the blood was poison-laced. Even if she could remove it all without killing him, how was she going to get it out? Clearly this was not the right approach to take.

Before she could think of another way, the man’s heart began to falter. Alarmed, she drew magic and reached out to it. Concentrating intently, she began to squeeze, timing her pulses in a rhythm that felt natural and familiar for a healthy, relaxed body.

Then she realised that his lungs had also stopped working, seemingly giving up all movement. Drawing more magic, she forced them gently to expand then let them relax. It took all her concentration to keep the two parts working.

I can’t do this for ever, she thought. I have to think of something else.

But as she managed to spare a little attention for the lower systems again, she realised she could feel a familiar energy at work. Magic flowed. Magic not her own, but imbued in the body of the magician. Magic that worked to combat the effect of the poison. Magic concentrated on the liver and kidneys, helping to purify blood and filter away the toxin.

And she realised that it had been working all along. It just hadn’t been strong or fast enough to combat something as potent as the poison. Now that she was working the heart and lungs, she was giving it the time it