The Magician’s Apprentice

at the thought of real battles, of conquest or power. The suggestion they defy the emperor clearly worried him.

The man looked down at the fire and sighed. “I am not the only one who believes Sachaka is in danger of turning on itself,” he said heavily. “Whether we act or not, we face conflict within. This... this may be what we need to minimise that.”

“You see now why I, an ashaki, propose this?” Takado asked quietly. “Not for land or wealth; I have my own. I am no outcast, though I am not ashamed to fight with outcasts.”

Dachido nodded. “You have everything to lose.”

“I do this not just for my friends,” Takado gestured to the two ichani. “But for all Sachaka.”

“I see that now,” Dachido acknowledged. “Kochavo and I will talk.” He looked up at Takado. “We will give you our decision tomorrow morning.”

Takado nodded, then glanced at Hanara. “Then let me offer you a cup of raka to refresh your bodies and minds.”

Even before he had finished speaking, Hanara was hurrying towards Takado’s pack. But then he skidded to a halt. Another was there already. Jochara held the raka powder. With a smug gleam in his eyes, the young man hurried to serve the visitors. Takado said nothing, not caring who served him so long as his needs were fulfilled.

Hanara watched the other slave. The man was young, lithe and unhampered by the stiffness of healed muscles and scars. He was also a source slave, judging by the scars on his palms, but too old to be one of Hanara’s progeny.

Hanara watched and felt worry and resentment stir inside him.

The ride to meet Narvelan seemed to take the whole night. The only light they had was the moon, which kept retreating behind clouds, and a tiny dim globe light created by Lord Werrin that hovered over the ground in front of them. When lights abruptly appeared ahead the relief that swept through Tessia was so powerful she felt tears spring into her eyes. She blinked them away, annoyed at herself. There were more appropriate things to cry about than the prospect of food, sleep and finally getting off a horse.

The lights were held by four men on horseback. One rode forward and held his light high.

“Lord Dakon,” he said.

“Yes,” Dakon replied. “This is Lord Werrin, Apprentice Jayan and Apprentice Tessia.”

“Lord Narvelan told us to wait here for you. I am to escort you to the camp.”

“Thank you.”

Their guide led them off the road into a forest. After several paces of ducking branches and weaving through undergrowth, they came upon a track and began following it.

Time stretched out, slowed by anticipation.

Then, without warning, they entered a clearing. Small fires ringed a knot of makeshift tents. Well-laden carts rested among the tents and animals grazed, tethered to stakes or within rope-and-stake fences around the grassy area. At the edges of the clearing stood men and women, staring into the forest in all directions. Keeping watch, Tessia guessed. Nobody looked surprised to see Lord Dakon.

A tall shadow emerged from a tent and hurried towards them.

“Lord Dakon.” Narvelan’s voice was so strained it took a moment for Tessia to recognise it. As his face came into the light she saw unhidden grief and guilt. “I am so sorry. I came as soon as I could, but it was already too late.”

Dakon swung down from his saddle. “You did everything you could, my friend. Do not apologise when the fault is not yours. If anything, it is mine for not seeing the danger and making better preparations.”

“We were aware of the threat long before I recruited you. We should have posted a watch on the pass. We should—”

“And you would have, had you known this would happen,” Dakon said firmly. “You didn’t. Don’t waste your energy and clever mind on regret. We cannot change the past. But we can learn from it – something I suspect we will have to do quickly.” He turned to Werrin, who dismounted as Dakon introduced him.

Watching Narvelan, Tessia was wearily impressed with the young magician. He clearly felt badly about the fate of Mandryn. She quietly absorbed the implications in Dakon’s heartfelt reply. Dakon had called him my friend. What else had he said? . . . your energy and clever mind. And Narvelan had said before I recruited you.

So Narvelan had been the one to draw Dakon into the Circle of Friends. And he was smart. She filed away these bits of information for consideration when she wasn’t so tired, and forced her aching body to dismount, and then stay upright.

“You don’t have an apprentice, do you?” Werrin asked Narvelan.

“No,” Narvelan replied. “I’ll have to do something about that.”

Tessia noted the reluctance in the young magician’s face and wondered at it. The magicians’ conversation was interrupted as a young man rode out of the trees and approached them.

“Lord Narvelan,” he said, stopping close to the magician.

Narvelan turned to face the young man. “Yes, Rovin? Did you find them?”

“Dek did. He spotted three of them heading north and followed. Lost them in the High Valley forest. They were on foot and not carrying supplies, so he reckons they’re camping up there somewhere.”

“Has Hannel returned?”

“No, but . . .” the young man paused to grimace, “Dek found Garrell’s body. No deep wounds on him, just the sort of cuts you said to look for.”

Narvelan nodded, his expression grim. “I will tell his family. Anything else?”

The young man shook his head.

“Go and get some rest then. And thank you.”

Rovin’s shoulders rose briefly, then he steered his horse away. Narvelan sighed.

“Not the first scout they’ve killed,” he told them. “Now, would you like some food? We’ve packed as light as possible, but there’s plenty of fare that won’t travel well that we may as well use up.”

“That would be much appreciated. We haven’t eaten since morning,” Dakon told him.

At Narvelan’s orders, two men from the camp emerged to take care of the horses. Tessia warned the man who took hers to handle her father’s bag carefully and not let it tip over. Then she followed the magicians to where blankets had been spread out in front of one of the fires. Cold, charred meat, slightly stale bread and fresh vegetables were brought out for them – a simple but welcome meal. Tessia felt her attention slipping as the magicians talked – Dakon about the journey and how the metal worker’s boy refused to leave Mandryn, Narvelan about what he had and hadn’t brought in the carts and how he’d had to be firm with the villagers about what and how many possessions to take.

Her thoughts slipped to a memory of two graves. I didn’t even get to see them dead, she thought. Not that it would have been pleasant. It’s just... the last time I saw them they were healthy and alive. It’s so hard to accept that they’re—

“I know what you’re feeling.”

Tessia blinked in surprise and turned to see Jayan watching her. His expression was serious and earnest.

“Just...if you need to talk about it,” he told her.

Then he smiled, and she felt a sudden and unexpected anger. Of all people, why would she ever talk to him about something so...so... He’d only laugh at her weak nature, or use it against her later. She wasn’t sure how. Maybe he’d consider it a favour she had to repay.

“You don’t know how I feel,” she found herself saying. “How could you know? Were your parents murdered?”

He flinched, then he frowned and she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. “No. But my mother died because my father would not let her see a healer, and wouldn’t pay for any cures she needed. Does your father letting your mother die count?”

She stared at him and felt all her anger drain away, leaving a nasty feeling of shame and horror.

“Oh.” She shook her head. “Sorry.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. They both looked away. An awkward silence followed, then Narvelan asked if they minded sleeping by the fire. All the tents were occupied and at least the magically