The Magician’s Apprentice

Thin cheers rang out from the houses around them. Tessia turned to look at Jayan, her eyes wide. His heart was racing. Should we run? From behind the cart came voices.

“Did we get any of them?”

“Nah, just those over there, and I think they’re servants.”

“We’d better hurry then, or we’ll miss the next one.”

The sound of running followed, fading into silence. Tessia let out a long sigh of relief. They both got to their feet. Jayan tested his weight on the leg that had been stuck under his horse. It felt bruised, but wasn’t broken.

He peered around the cart. He had no magic and Tessia did not have enough to defend herself against a higher magician. If Sachakans were lurking behind the walls, waiting to ambush the Kyralian army, then an exhausted magician and an apprentice had no chance of catching up with the army alive. They would have to hide.

There were gaping holes in the walls around them. Behind one a house was burning, though not as much smoke was billowing out now. The closest gap was a few steps away – where the blast that had killed his horse had come from. Hopefully whoever had sent the strike had left to continue the fight elsewhere.

If he or she was still here, they’d have seen us already. “Let’s get out of sight,” he said.

Tessia followed as he dashed towards and through the gap, and then they both skidded to a halt.

Lush greenery surrounded them. Wide-leafed plants fanned out over paved pathways. Vines clung to a lattice roof. In the centre a large stone-edged pool brimmed with water.

“It’s beautiful,” Tessia whispered.

They exchanged a look of wonder, then moved further into the garden, moving as silently as they could. Jayan hoped that the owners of this place, and their slaves, were gone, or staying as far from the battle as possible. They found a small, sheltered alcove and slipped inside, then sat down to wait.

“What do we do now?” Tessia asked.

Jayan shrugged. “Wait.”

She nodded. “Do we wait until night, or until someone comes back for us?”

“Whatever comes first.”

CHAPTER 47

It seemed like years since Stara had been in a crowded room. Nine women sat around her, some chatting, some quietly listening. The youngest was only twelve, though far too wise and self-possessed for her age. The oldest was near Vora’s age, with more grey in her hair than the slave had, but an energy Stara envied. Stara suspected she would have found it hard to keep her entertained if it weren’t for the work the women had brought with them.

Since the Traitors treated all women as equals, free women had contributed in practical ways to the running of the Sanctuary. They were not given unpleasant or physically demanding tasks, however, as that would have been too great a shock to women who had never worked before. Instead they were taught skills like sewing and weaving, cooking and preserving foods. Though they’d fled the Sanctuary in a hurry, they’d each managed to pack tools for their work among the clothes and food they’d brought, and soon took up new projects when they arrived at Kachiro’s house.

Talking Kachiro into letting the women stay had been easy. She’d told him they were friends of his friends’ wives who had fled their estates in the country, and would leave when the Kyralians had been dealt with. Since his friends didn’t seem to know or care exactly how many friends their wives had, he had accepted the half-truth without question.

She’d had to gamble that he wouldn’t recognise Nachira, but he tended to avoid the women as much as possible and had barely spared her brother’s wife a glance. He was distracted by the news that the Kyralians were nearing the city, and often disappeared for hours to discuss plans with his friends.

Nachira had been distraught when she’d learned that Ikaro was probably dead. They’d wept together, Stara surprised at the extent of her own grief. She’d expected to have to soothe and reassure Nachira constantly, but the formally passive woman appeared to have gained some confidence now that she wasn’t under the constant threat of murder. The loss of her husband clearly hurt deeply, but she was alive and determined to stay that way.

Stara looked at her sister by marriage. What will I feel, if Kachiro doesn’t come back? He’d left a few hours before to join his friends, who were all determined to do what they could to defend the city. He said the Kyralians haven’t got a chance, but I can’t help worrying. After all, they wouldn’t have come here if they didn’t think they could defeat us. I hope he’s careful. He may not have been completely honest with me, but he’s not a bad man. Just a man surviving in an overly judgemental society. Like me – and I haven’t exactly been honest with him either.

She’d never been so tempted to tell him about her magical ability. If it weren’t for her obligation to protect the women, she’d have left with him to throw what little magic she had at the invaders. When loud booming and cracking noises had penetrated to the room it had taken all her willpower to stay seated. Slaves had reported that they’d heard fighting a few streets away, but it had moved on.

“Are you worrying about Kachiro again?” a voice said at her elbow.

Stara jumped and looked down. “Vora! You’re back!” The other women looked up and exclaimed, saving Stara from answering Vora’s question.

“Yes.” Vora moved into the circle of women. “And I have news.”

“Tell us,” one of the women murmured. All were gazing at Vora eagerly.

“The Kyralians have entered the city,” Vora confirmed, her expression grave.

“No!”

“But... how?”

“Are many dead?”

Vora raised her hands and they quietened. “A third of the defenders fell.” She looked at one of the women, her expression grave. “I am sorry, Atarca.” The woman hung her head and nodded, but said nothing. “The rest . . .” Vora continued. “When it was clear they would be overcome they retreated. Fortunately they’d planned for such a situation. They started attacking the Kyralians from hidden positions. I followed at a distance for an hour or so. When I knew they were getting close to the palace I came back here.” She stopped to take a deep breath. “I think we should leave the city while we can.”

The women stared at her in silence, then broke it with question after question.

“So the enemy has won?”

“Where will we go?

“Does Tavara think we should go?”

“What would happen if we stayed here?”

Stara felt a chill run down her spine, then another. The women were already in danger of being discovered and recognised by those people in the city they’d fled from in the first place. Now there was the possible threat of the invaders taking their revenge upon the people of Arvice. Without magicians to enforce laws there was the danger of attack from lawless free men taking advantage of the chaos, who would rape and rob them and later claim it was Kyralians. And slaves might stop working once there were no masters to order them about, and with nobody raising or delivering foodstuff Arvice would eventually starve.

We are probably safe here...so long as Kachiro returns. But what will the Kyralians do to the magicians who survive the battle? Even if they let him live, I doubt he could protect us from them . . .

So should they leave? It might reduce the dangers they faced discovery, and lawless free men or slaves. I should be able to fend them off with magic. But where can we go?

She thought of Elyne and her mother. But she had promised to help the Traitors, and she couldn’t take them there. Not when stories of the murder of Sachakan expatriates in Capia were circulating in Arvice. Hopefully nobody remembered that Mother was married to a Sachakan, and has decided that makes her Sachakan too. Kachiro had sent a message to Elyne hoping to find out her mother’s fate, but no reply had come.

“Many, many other Sachakans are leaving,” Vora told them. “There’s a line of carts and people on every road out of the city.”

“Where are they going?”