The Magician’s Apprentice

one of the slaves speculating.”

“I still can’t believe Father would object to his son and daughter conversing.”

“Oh, he will.” Nachira frowned. “If he hears about it from the slaves. We are going to tell him that we felt we should keep an eye on you, and provide a distraction so you don’t try to go out again.”

“Won’t he read your mind and find it isn’t true?”

The woman blinked. “No. At least...I hope not. He hasn’t before. Well, not since that one time, after the wedding, when he wanted to be sure I didn’t have some secret mission to do him harm. But he was kind about it.”

Stara looked away. “I’d have thought he’d do it before the wedding, if he thought there was justification for it.”

“My father would have called off the wedding. It would be rude to show such distrust then.”

“But not after?” Stara turned back to meet Nachira’s eyes.

The woman lowered her gaze. “Not as much. And he was kind about it...as I said. I didn’t think it was worth bothering Father over.”

Stara nodded and sighed. This confirmed her suspicion that reading a free person’s mind – even family – was not an everyday, accepted act.

Vora had brought her to her brother’s rooms every day since that first meeting in the baths. Sometimes Stara visited in the morning, sometimes later in the day. The handful of visits weren’t enough for her to consider she knew Nachira well, but she had judged the woman to be a straightforward sort of person. The idea that Ikaro’s wife might have some secret mission – or any secret other than her infertility – was unlikely.

I like her well enough, Stara mused. I haven’t seen anything to dislike, except perhaps her utter passiveness. If I thought my father-inlaw was likely to kill me, I’d be demanding or at least begging my husband to take me away from danger.

Maybe there was no “away”. Where would Ikaro and Nachira go? Without Stara’s father’s good will and protection, they would have no money, trade or land to inherit.

But that would be better than death, wouldn’t it? They could go to Elyne. Even as she thought it, she knew it was not an option likely to be considered. Nachira would not be able to comprehend living in another land, and Ikaro would worry that his father would still be able to make their lives a misery from across the border, since he had trading connections through their mother.

Mother would never do anything to harm us, Stara thought. But she may not know she is doing so. She could be tricked into it.

Hearing footsteps, they both tensed and looked towards the doorway. When Ikaro entered Nachira let out a sigh of relief.

Ikaro smiled. “He hasn’t returned and they don’t expect him for another few days.” He sat down and his expression became serious as he looked at his wife. “But I heard other news, just arrived. The emperor has officially declared his support of the invasion of Kyralia and is calling for magicians to join his army. When Father learns of this he will send me away to fight.”

Stara heard Nachira catch her breath. The couple stared at each other for a moment, then their gazes shifted to Stara.

“You will have to make your decision sooner than we hoped, Stara.” Ikaro reached out to take Nachira’s hand. “We have discussed it, and agreed that the least we can do is give you what you asked for. I’ll teach you higher magic.”

Stara glanced at Vora. The woman smiled and nodded her approval. Stara felt a wave of emotions rush through her. First helplessness, then disgust at herself. I’m going to give in to this. I’m going to marry some stranger and have his child because my father is a monster. How pathetic am I? Then a strange pride followed by determination. But I’m not just giving in, I’m making a choice – saving a life. Finally, dread came and didn’t leave her, settling into her as if it had found a home in her bones. If Father has chosen someone horrible I will not sit there and accept it. Ikaro may help me, but if he can’t I will find a way to help myself.

She realised then that she had decided to help them from the first moment she learned of Nachira and Ikaro’s dilemma. Foolishly, perhaps, because she had to trust they were telling the truth and not inventing the threat to Nachira’s life to get Stara to co-operate. But all her senses told her their fear was real. She could see it in their slightest gesture, almost smell it in the air.

“Then I’ll do it,” she told them. “I’ll marry and try to provide Father with an heir.”

Both smiled, then sobered, then smiled again as they alternately thanked and apologised to her. Nachira began to cry; Ikaro consoled her. Stara felt her heart lift at their obvious affection for each other, but then it sank again.

Oh, Mother, I am going to marry and have a child, and you won’t be there to help and share the experience. Stara knew then that the dread she felt was not just at the prospect of putting her life in the hands of a stranger, but of becoming trapped in Sachaka with nothing familiar and nobody she could trust and talk to. It was hardly the sort of place she’d hoped to bring a child up in.

Nachira abruptly rose. “We must share some raka to seal the agreement,” she declared.

“I’ll get the raka,” Vora said, her joints creaking as she rose. She looked at Ikaro. “You should honour your side of the agreement now, master.”

He chuckled. “You’re right, Vora. We can never know if and when we may be interrupted.” He narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Be quick with the raka, too, as we need someone to practise on.”

Vora’s lips thinned, but her eyes were warm with fondness. Soon they had settled back onto the cushions, sipping the hot drink. Ikaro told Vora to move her cushion between them, and kneel. He drew the short, curved knife from the sheath at his waist, then looked at Stara, all humour gone from his face.

“First you must break the skin,” he told her. “The natural magical barrier that protects us all from the will of others lies there when not extended to form a shield.” He turned the knife and offered the handle to her. “Take it. The only way to show you is for you to sense it yourself.”

She took the knife. The handle was warm from his touch. Vora rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm.

“Just the lightest touch should be enough. The blade is very sharp.”

For a moment Stara could not bring herself to move. Vora eyed her, her gaze judgemental. Suddenly determined the old woman wouldn’t see yet another moment of weakness, Stara pressed the blade gently against the woman’s skin. As she drew it away a red line appeared. At one edge a bead of blood formed. Stara bit back an urge to apologise.

“Now place your hand over the cut,” Ikaro continued. “Close your eyes. Send your mind out and locate Vora.”

Doing as he instructed, Stara was startled by the intensity of what she sensed. Many of Nimelle’s magic lessons had involved the meeting of their minds, but it hadn’t been like this. Stara was aware not only of Vora’s presence, but of her entire body, and even her mind. When she concentrated, she could hear the woman’s thoughts.

Most keenly of all, she could feel the magical energy within the slave, imbuing every part of her body.

From a distance, she heard Ikaro speaking.

“Do you feel the strength within her?”

She made herself nod.

“Good. Now draw from it. Tap into it as you would tap into your own power.”

Carefully, tentatively, she reached for the energy within Vora. It flowed to her, but she felt it slip away.

“Where’d it go?”

“You channelled it out of yourself, unformed. Don’t worry. That is what most people do initially. Try again, but this time connect with your own power. Draw her power in to join yours.”

Keeping an awareness of Vora’s energy, she sought her own power. Suddenly she had an impression of two glowing human forms connected where one touched the other. She could feel the barrier about Vora’s energy, sense the break where her skin had been cut.

Then she focused her will and pulled in energy from Vora’s body. It responded to her will, flowing into her own body.

“I have it,” she said. “It’s working.”