The Magician’s Apprentice

him.”

“Even if someone was hurt?”

“That would force me to read his mind.”

Jayan frowned. “You haven’t already?”

“No. I’m no Sachakan ashaki.” Dakon lifted one eyebrow. “Do you feel no sympathy for the man?”

Looking away, Jayan let out a sigh. “A little. Well, I suppose more than a little. But that doesn’t mean I trust him. If Takado turned up I’m sure Hanara would scurry back to his master’s side without hesitation.”

“Would he? He’s a free man now. Takado said I could do what I wished with his man. Hanara knows that. Would he willingly go back to the life of a slave?”

“If he has known nothing else. If he feared to do otherwise.”

“Nobody is forcing him to stay. He could leave and return to Sachaka if he wanted to.” Dakon smiled. “He is trying out a different life now. The longer he has his freedom, the more he may like it. And he will like it even more if he is not treated with distrust by every Kyralian he meets.”

Jayan nodded reluctantly. “But that will count for nothing if he does not respect you,” he pointed out. “Should Hanara face Takado again, his reaction will depend on who he fears and respects the most, you or Takado.”

“True.”

“And he may never respect a man he doesn’t fear, if that’s the only way he knows how to judge. Fear may mean a lot more than trust to him.”

Dakon frowned and fell into a thoughtful silence. They turned off the road onto a cart track which climbed steadily up and along a ridge overlooking the village. Jayan stared down at the double line of houses extending from the river to the end of the little valley. Dakon’s house was a storey higher and several times larger than the rest of the buildings. Whenever Jayan looked at the village from this viewpoint, he wondered how the villagers managed to live and work in their tiny homes.

“Your distrust of Hanara is reasonable,” Dakon said. Jayan resisted the urge to sigh with exasperation. Isn’t he finished with this subject yet? he thought impatiently. “But I don’t quite understand the issue you have with Tessia.”

Jayan’s stomach lurched disconcertingly. “Tessia? I have no issue with her.”

Dakon laughed quietly. “Oh, it’s clear you do. Your dislike of her is as obvious as your distrust of Hanara. I’m afraid you aren’t good enough at hiding your feelings, Jayan.”

I ought to turn and meet his eyes, and state that I am happy that Tessia has joined us and look forward to many years of her company, Jayan thought. But not yet. He wasn’t ready. Dakon had surprised him.

“If I’m so bad at hiding my feelings, then shouldn’t it be obvious what my ‘issue’ is?” he countered. “Maybe you don’t understand because there’s nothing to understand.”

“Then explain to me why you sigh or scowl at half her questions, and listen to her lessons when you say you want to read, and ignore her unless she speaks to you directly, then give her the shortest and often least helpful response?” Dakon chuckled. “From the look on your face when she’s present, anyone would think she gave you a stomach ache.”

Jayan glanced at Dakon then looked away again, thinking hard. What possible explanation could he give? He certainly couldn’t tell Dakon that he resented every moment of time Tessia took away from his own training.

“She’s just so...so ignorant,” he said. “So slow – I know she’s learning fast but it doesn’t feel like it.” He grimaced, sure that his answer wasn’t clever or evasive enough. Make it sound as if you actually want her around for some reason. “It’s going to be a long time before we can have a conversation about magic, or practise together, or play a game, or... something.” Now look at him. He turned to face Dakon, meeting the magician’s eyes and shrugging helplessly.

Dakon smiled and turned to regard the track ahead of them, which was leading to a fence and a gate.

“Watching her must remind you of your own beginnings, of the awkward questions and failed attempts at magic, of mistakes and difficulties. You know,” he looked at Jayan again, “I’m sure she’d welcome your help. You’ve put her a bit on edge, but a little assistance now and then would reassure her. Not that you should try to teach her anything new entirely on your own.” Dakon grew serious. “Apprentices are not supposed to be teachers. It’s seen as an abuse of the magician–apprentice exchange of duties.”

Jayan nodded, hoping it looked like agreement and not a commitment. Their conversation ceased as they navigated the gate. Then, as they continued on their way, Dakon looked at Jayan expectantly.

“Promise me you’ll be nicer to Tessia.”

Jayan suppressed the urge to sigh in relief. It could have been worse. Dakon could have asked him to dedicate time to assisting Tessia.

“I promise,” he said. “I’ll be nicer to her. And try not to ‘put her on edge’, as you say.”

“Good.” Apparently satisfied, Dakon nudged Sleet into a trot. Watching his master moving away, Jayan surrendered to the sigh. Then he grimaced and urged Ember to follow.

If I am so easy to read, then I need to work on changing that. Perhaps I should think of Tessia as an opportunity to gain some skill in this area. After all, what’s a minor fault here in Mandryn could be a fatal weakness in Imardin.

He might as well try to gain some advantage out of the situation. It didn’t look as if Dakon was going to send her to another teacher. Tessia was here to stay, and he would just have to get used to it.

CHAPTER 9

Tessia stared at the bowl of water and reached for magic. She felt her power respond, obediently, flowing out to take the form she wanted and going where she directed it. Bubbles welled up and burst, droplets splashing her. She flinched and rubbed her skin. Too hot.

Dakon had suggested she practise turning magic into heat by warming her washing water each morning. Using magic for everyday tasks was good practice and kept a magician’s mind sharp, he told her. Nevertheless, she could not help thinking that magicians were a lazy lot every time she saw him or Jayan using magic to open doors, or to fetch something from across a room.

She knew better now than to warm the water before washing, however. Her most common mistake in any magical task was to employ too much magic, and to begin with there had been a few mornings she’d had to wait for some time before the water cooled enough to use.

A knock at the door attracted her attention.

“Come in,” she called.

The servant, Malia, strode in, and glanced from the steaming bowl to the empty dishes from Tessia’s morning meal stacked on the desk. She moved towards the latter, taking the tray she was nearly always carrying out from under her arm. “Good morning, Tessia.”

Tessia rose and stretched. “Good morning, Malia.”

“Practising again?”

“Yes. Give the bowl a moment to cool down before you take it.”

“I will.” Malia chuckled ruefully. “Believe me, I won’t be ignoring your warning a second time. What are your plans for today?”

“Stables first.” Tessia picked up the small bag of bandages and salves her father had left for her to use when tending Hanara.

“Then lessons.”

Tessia headed to the door, then paused to look back at Malia. She had expected the servant to ask how Hanara was, but the woman said nothing.

“Malia, do you know how well Hanara is fitting in? What do the stable servants think of him? What about the villagers?”

Malia straightened from tidying the bedcovers and looked thoughtful. “Well, people generally find him a bit strange, but that’s expected, right? It would be weird if he behaved like a Kyralian.”

Tessia smiled. “Yes, it would be. And the stable servants?”

“They say he works hard enough – more than what he’s supposed to what with the mending he still has to do. They say he’s tough. Almost admiringly.” Malia hesitated. “But he keeps to himself and doesn’t always answer questions.” She shrugged, indicating that was all she had to convey.