Narvelan put his elbows on the arms of the chair and pressed his fingertips together. “Where to start? Lord Ruskel’s story, I think. Ruskel had heard several reports of strangers being seen in the southern end of the mountains. Usually small groups of young men. He investigated and found a group of three Sachakan magicians and their slaves camping within our border. They claimed to have become lost in the mountains.”
Dakon couldn’t help feeling a chill run down his spine. Stumbling alone upon three Sachakan magicians would not be pleasant for any Kyralian magician, if they had mischief in mind.
“They apologised and returned the way they came,” Narvelan continued. “Lord Ruskel called on a few neighbours for support and followed a few days later. He found a path that at first was natural and probably used by hunters, but as they moved deeper into the mountains it was clear some magical effort had gone into extending the path. As obvious as cutting a shelf into a sheer cliff face, and moving immense boulders into place to form a bridge.”
“So, a path for non-magicians. Or magicians who don’t want to use up too much of their power,” Dakon said.
“Yes. Hunters and their families also approached Lord Ruskel and his companions, telling them of men who had hunted for decades in the mountains disappearing, on days of fine weather.”
“Have the Sachakans been seen since?”
“No, and there have been no more reports of missing people either. Perhaps the young drumbloods have been put off.” Narvelan smiled grimly. “Which brings me to the next subject: what’s going on in Sachaka. Our friend over there managed to contact us again.”
Dakon smiled. He had no idea whether this “friend” was Kyralian or Sachakan, but Narvelan had vouched for the honesty of the man – or woman – and the quality of their information.
“Our friend says there is a split forming between the younger and older Sachakan magicians. There are too many young magicians without land, relying on the sibling their father chose as heir to support them. The number of landless magicians has been slowly growing for years, but only now have they begun to unite and cause trouble. Emperor Vochira doesn’t seem able to do much about them.
“There are reports of landless magicians tormenting and killing slaves that don’t belong to them. This in itself isn’t remarkable, so they must be causing a lot of economic damage for their actions to be protested against. Some have turned to thievery, occasionally daring to attack and rob other magicians. Others have even raided the homes of landed magicians, attacking their families and killing slaves.
“The worst offenders have been banished and declared ‘ichani’ – outlaws. A few were hunted down and killed, but not enough to make a difference because the emperor needs assistance to overcome the offenders, and too few of the older magicians can risk losing alliances with the families the offenders are related to.” Narvelan sighed and shook his head. “There is some satisfaction in knowing the Sachakans have as much trouble getting magicians to unite with and support each other as we do.”
Dakon chuckled, knowing that the young man referred to the habit of some magicians to hoard magical knowledge to themselves. Like Lord Jilden, who had discovered a way to harden stone with magic, but refused to share the knowledge with anyone else. He claimed it was only useful for his small sculptures – which were exquisite and fragile – and that like most artisans he had a right to keep his methods secret. King Errik could not risk ordering Lord Jilden to reveal his secret, because most magicians would not support it. Though they wanted the knowledge, their freedom to do as they wished, so long as it did no harm to the country, was more valuable to them. The king could only force Lord Jilden to divulge his secret if he could prove withholding it was harmful.
“Our Sachakan friend says that the younger magicians talk of the past,” Narvelan added. “They glorify the days when the Sachakan empire spread from coast to coast, bringing in wealth from other lands. They feel the empire is declining and believe they could revive it by reconquering the lost territories.”
Dakon frowned. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
Narvelan smiled. “Ah, but the older magicians call the young ones fools and dreamers. They recall that the empire relinquished Elyne and Kyralia because the two countries were no longer bringing in the wealth they once had. Which is what happens, when you rob a land,” Narvelan added darkly. “They also say that Kyralia would cost too much to conquer now, and isn’t worth the trouble.”
“But the young magicians want land,” Dakon guessed. “The lack of it drives them to see Kyralia as a greater prize than it is. They tell themselves they aren’t going to rob and run, but stay and rule.”
The younger magician’s gaze became thoughtful. “I fear you may be right. The question is, will the older magicians convince and control their younger opponents, or will they let them invade Kyralia?”
“It always seems easier to do nothing, when the harm is done elsewhere,” Dakon said. “They know their young ones will either learn a lesson and limp home – or die and stop being a problem – or prove successful. The worst that could happen is a bit of a diplomatic hiccup in history.”
“Are the youngsters right?” Narvelan asked, though more to himself than to Dakon. “Are we as weak as they think we are? Would we win or lose such a war?”
Dakon considered. “The king’s war masters would know better than we do.” He looked at the young man. “But your friends are already trying to find out for themselves, aren’t they?”
Narvelan grinned. “Trying to. There is one more question to be answered, though. One as important as those two. “
“Yes?”
“Would we unite against them?”
“Of course. We managed it a few centuries ago, in order to force the emperor to grant us independence.”
“But how long would it take?
“Only if the Sachakans moved quickly.”
Narvelan shook his head. “You don’t know the city magicians as I do. They fear confrontation far more than they care for some remote leys at the edge of the country.” He looked towards the window and frowned. “We are close to the main pass – you closer than me. Even if you are right, our land and people will still be the first to go.”
Dakon felt his skin chill, as if he had been sitting outside and a cloud had just blocked the sunlight. He could not argue against what Narvelan said. He could only hope that the Sachakans never managed to convince themselves Kyralia was worth invading, or that their attempts to organise and form alliances failed.
“The king would not allow the city magicians to delay,” he said, feeling his mood lighten a fraction. “He won’t want to lose one handful of his land to Sachaka, let alone a few leys.”
Narvelan looked at him and nodded. “I hope you are right. I think... and our circle of friends believe... that we can better our chances. That the king is more likely to act promptly if he has met and reassured us he will. He should
“You want me to meet the king?” Dakon exclaimed. He laughed. “Why would he agree to meet me? I doubt he’ll do so just to ease my mind. More likely he’ll think I’m a nervous rassook jumping at every suggestion of a threat and most likely inventing half of them.”
“He won’t,” Narvelan said, with a shrug and a glint of amusement in his eye. “Not with your reputation. And once he meets you, he’ll know you’re not easily frightened.”
“Reputation?” Dakon stared at the young man. “What reputation?”
Narvelan’s gaze began to roam around the room. “Is it too early for wine, do you think?”
“Only for those who mention a man’s reputation and fail to supply the details.”
The young man grinned. “Is that a bribe or a punishment?”
“That depends entirely on how it affects my reputation.”
Narvelan laughed. “Very well. We’ve made sure you’re known as a sturdy sort of man who is unimpressed by frivolity. Which is why you have no wife – or so the assorted wives and daughters of our circle of friends have concluded.”
Dakon opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I do hope this reputation you have arranged for me will not prevent my marrying at some point in the future.”
