The Magician’s Apprentice

“This isn’t very fair on the slaves,” Vora told her disapprovingly. “They will be punished.”

“For obeying orders? Surely Father wouldn’t be that cruel.”

Vora’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

Yet disappointment diminished Stara’s triumph at getting out of the mansion without opposition. She would rather her father had emerged to prevent her, so she could have asked him about trade and her mother. Sighing, she leaned back in the seat of the wagon and watched the high white walls move past.

Is all the city like this? she wondered. I don’t have many memories of Arvice. Maybe I never went out. I can’t imagine Mother wanting to be cooped up inside all the time. But I suppose that might have been part of the reason she hated it here. Maybe it wasn’t all to do with Father having to be mean to his slaves.

Maybe he had had to be mean to her, to make her comply with Sachakan ways. Stara felt her stomach sink. If that was so, he would probably be the same to her. And any man he chose to be her husband. She shuddered. I have to find a way to avoid being married off. And then convince him I can work for him in some way.

She began to imagine herself finding him new customers at the market. It was highly unlikely, she knew, but the idea kept her entertained as they travelled. Then the scene outside the wagon changed so suddenly that it took her a moment to grasp what she was seeing.

The white walls fell away, and then they were crossing a wide avenue, giving her a view down avenues of perfectly shaped trees and beds of brightly coloured flowers to a grand building. Instantly she recognised the white curved walls and domes of the Imperial Palace from pictures and paintings – and perhaps even a twinge of memory.

There isn’t a straight wall in the whole place, she remembered her father saying. You go around and round and it’s easy to get lost – which is the point. Anybody trying to invade would be utterly confused. The walls are very thick, but I’ve heard they’re hollow and defenders can unplug holes and attack intruders from inside.

Just as abruptly, the wagon reached the opposite road and the view of the palace was replaced by boring high walls again. Stara closed her eyes and held on to the memory of the palace for a moment, and the feeling of love and connection with her father. It faded slowly and was replaced by anxiety and sadness.

Perhaps if I had lived with him all my life things would be different. But then I wouldn’t have known my mother. Or enjoyed so many freedoms. Or learned magic.

The wagon turned and slowed to a stop, and as it did, muffled through the cloth walls of the canopy came the sound of voices mixed with the twitter and snort of animals combined with the clang and creak of metal and wood. Stara looked at Vora.

“The market?”

Vora nodded. “You should take two slaves, mistress.”

Wrinkles of worry and a shadow of fear in Vora’s eyes made her look even older than her years, Stara saw. “Should we go at all?” she asked.

The woman’s lips pressed together and her eyes flashed with annoyance and perhaps a little defiance. “Go back now, mistress? That would be a waste of a trip.”

Stara smiled and called out to the guards to open the flap.

Emerging, she saw that the market was surrounded by yet another high white wall. The entrance was a plain archway. Guards stood on either side, but their expressions were of boredom and they ignored Stara, Vora and the two slave guards passing through into the noise and bustle inside.

At once Stara noticed that there were other women there. Wearing capes, as she was, they were each accompanied by a man, though she saw one chaperon who was so young she’d have called him a boy if it weren’t for the spotty skin on his forehead. Reassured, she strolled slowly up and down the rows of permanent stalls, looking at the wares and the prices, and often seeing women and children huddled or working in the dim rear of each stall.

There were traders of many races here. Dark-skinned Lonmar in their drab clothes selling dried fruit and spices. Pale, tall Lans covered in skin drawings offering up all manner of things made of carved bone. Squat brown Vindo were most frequently seen, selling a range of wares from all around the region. A few Elynes were selling wines and the bitter drink Stara had gained a taste for, sumi.

There were no Kyralians, she noted. A few grey-skinned men wearing only short skirts of cloth were selling gemstones.

“Who are they?” she asked Vora.

“Duna,” Vora replied. “Tribesmen from the ash desert in the north.”

As she walked around the market, examining goods and fending off sellers with a polite smile and a shake of her head, she listened to the talk, moving closer if she saw two traders in conversation. She caught half-hearted curses aimed at the ichani who were disrupting trade with Kyralia. Some enthused about the opportunities that would come once Kyralia was conquered. Others worried that the ichani would then turn on the emperor and throw Sachaka into a war with itself.

Stara thought about the opinions of her father’s guests. They had argued that Sachaka had been heading for an internal battle already.

Trust my luck to end up in Sachaka at the wrong time.

As she and Vora turned a corner she saw a man glance at them, then give Vora a second look. His gaze immediately moved back to Stara and he smiled. She gave him a polite but distant nod, lowered her eyes and continued past.

She was amused to find her heart was beating a little faster, and not because she felt threatened. What a handsome man! Really, if father chose him as a husband for me I’d have a hard time refusing.

After a moment she glanced over her shoulder. Vora tugged on her arm, but not before Stara saw that the man was still watching her.

“Stop it!” the woman muttered. “He’ll take it as an invitation.”

“An invitation for what?” Stara asked. Was there any way a woman could have a lover here in Sachaka? Probably not after marriage, but she wasn’t married yet...

“To talk to you,” Vora hissed. She pulled Stara round the next corner.

“Just talk? What’s wrong with that?”

Vora gave a short sigh of exasperation, her gaze flicking about at all the people. “I can’t tell you here, mistress. Until you learn who it is safe to talk to, you shouldn’t speak to anyone. You may end up conversing with one of your father’s enemies, or offending one of his allies.”

“How am I going to learn who it is safe to talk to, when I never meet anybody?”

“I will tell you the names and families.” Vora frowned and glanced over her shoulder. As she did so, the handsome man stepped out of a stall a few steps ahead of them. He turned and smiled as he saw Stara again. “There is much for you to learn. We will get to—.”

“Forgive me, but would you be the daughter of Ashaki Sokara?”

Stara smiled and nodded. “I am.”

“Then I am honoured to meet you,” the man said. “I am Ashaki Kachiro. My house is next to yours, on the southern side.”

“Oh, you are our neighbour, then.” She glanced at Vora, who was keeping her eyes to the ground. “I am Stara – and honoured to meet you, too, Ashaki Kachiro.”

“I see you have not bought anything,” Kachiro said. “Does nothing here please you?”

“I am merely looking to see what is available. It is interesting to note the products that are hard to find in Capia but plentiful here, and the opposite, as well as the differences in prices.” As she stepped up to a stall he moved aside to let her past, then fell into step beside her. She was amused to find herself flattered by this. I’m getting more attention from him these last few moments than I’ve had from my father since arriving. “Clearly some wares are too prone to spoiling to be a viable market item, but there are some trinkets here I think would sell well in Capia.”

“You have an interest in trade, then?”

“Yes. My mother taught me to help her with the Elyne end of Father’s trade.”