and wears the moon for a crown. And all around has chains of flowing silver.
Her mirrors reflect the sky. O, to roam your flowing cloak of green
under the light of the ever-crowning moon.
Will I ever drink of your chains of flowing silver and drift once more across your mirrors of the sky?
"A bard's voice, indeed," said Saaban, dabbing at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. "With such power to move the emotions, I hope you know happier tunes."
"A few," Seregil said. "Alec, give us the harmony on 'Fair Rises My Lover.' "
The Skalan song was warmly received, and more instruments appeared as if on cue.
"Where's Urien?" Seregil demanded, squinting out into the garden at the soldiers. "Someone give that boy a lute!"
This broke through the Urgazhi's reticence. The young rider's friends all but carried the blushing musician forward, demanding favorite ballads as if they were at a crossroads tavern.
"For the pride of the decuria, rider!" Mercalle ordered with mock severity.
Urien accepted an Aurenfaie lute and smoothed an admiring hand over its round back.
"For the pride of the turma," he said, striking a chord. "This is from before my time with the Urgazhi."
Ghost wolves they call us, and Ghost Wolves we are. Drawn to the enemy by a plague star Fighting and burning, deep in their lines Our Captain was fearless, we followed behind.
Death and dark magic, demons she faced, Under the black sun, in that dread lonely place. The black shields of Plenimar, rank upon rank Until their Duke Mardus, in his blood sank .
Alec watched in dismay as Seregil's smile froze and Thero went pale. One of several ballads that extolled the Urgazhi's early exploits, this one spoke of Nysander's death. Fortunately, Beka caught on at once.
"Enough, enough!" she begged, masking her concern with a comic grimace. "By the Four, Urien, of all the grim, threadbare ballads to choose! Give us 'Illior's Face Upon the Waters' to honor our good hosts."
The chagrined rider nodded and commenced the tune, playing each flourish flawlessly. Seregil moved to sit by Alec again.
"You looked as. if you'd seen a ghost. Are you all right?" he whispered, as if the previous song had not affected him.
Alec nodded.
The song ended and Kheeta held a harp out to Klia.
"What about you, my lady? "
"Oh, no! I have the voice of a crow. Thero, didn't I hear you sing a passable ballad after our victory at Two Horse Crossing?"
"I'd had a bit more to drink then, my lady," the wizard replied, thin cheeks coloring as all eyes turned his way.
"Don't be shy!" Sergeant Braknil called out. "We heard you sing sober aboard the Zyria."
"All the same, perhaps our hosts would prefer a small demonstration of Third Oreska magic? " Thero countered.
"Very well," laughed Mydri.
Thero produced a pouch of fine white sand and sprinkled it in a circle on the ground in front of the couches. Using his crystal wand, he wove a series of glowing sigils over it. Instead of the tidy configurations he usually produced, however, they swelled and bulged, then exploded with enough force to scatter the sand and knock wine cups in all directions. Thero dropped the wand with a startled yelp and stuck his fingers in his mouth.
Alec stifled a laugh; the normally reserved wizard looked like a cat that had just slipped on a patch of ice, chagrined and determined to regain his dignity before anyone noticed. Seregil shook with silent laughter beside him.
"My apologies!" Thero exclaimed in dismay. "I—I can't imagine what happened."
"The fault is mine. I should have warned you," Adzriel assured him, clearly fighting down a smile of her own. "Magic must be performed with great care here. The power of Sarikali feeds into our own, making magic sometimes unpredictable. All the more so in your case, evidently."
"So I see." Thero retrieved his wand and tucked it in his belt. After a moment's thought, he sprinkled more sand and tried the spell again, drawing the sigils with his fingers this time. The patterns hung in the air a few inches above the ground, then coalesced into a flat disk of silvery light as big around as a serving platter. He added another sigil, and the smooth surface took on a mottled array of sun-washed colors, then resolved itself into a miniature city set high above a miniature harbor.
"How wonderful!" exclaimed Amali, leaning forward to admire his creation. "What place is it?"
"Rhiminee, my lady," he replied.
"That sprawling black-and-grey monstrosity is the queen's Palace, my home," Klia remarked dryly. "While this lovely white structure over here, the one with the sparkling dome and towers, is the Oreska House."
"I visited it during my time in Rhiminee," said Adzriel. "As I recall, the wizards of Skala were originally scattered around your land, some solitary, others serving various noble houses."
"Yes, my lady; what we called the Second Oreska. After the old capital, Ero, was destroyed, Queen Tamir founded Rhiminee and forged an alliance with the greatest wizards of her day, the Third Oreska. They helped build her city and other wonders; in return she gifted them with her patronage and the land for the Oreska House."
"Then it is true that those among you with magic are kept apart from others?" an Akhendi asked.
"No, not at all," Thero replied. "It's just that we are so different by virtue of that magic and its effect on us—life spans comparable to your own, and the barrenness that is its price—that it was good to have a haven, a place where we could live and share our learning among ourselves. Wizards are not required to live there, but many choose to. I spent most of my life there, in the tower of my master, Nysander i Azusthra. Wizards are highly honored in Skala, I assure you."
"Yet do you not find it sad, to be cut off from the natural flow of life among your own kind?" the same Akhendi asked.
Thero considered this and shrugged. "No, not really. I've never known any other life."
"Rhaish and I visited your city as boys," Riagil i Molan told Klia. "We went to attend the wedding of Corruth i Glamien to your ancestress, Idrilain the First. We were taken to visit this Oreska House of yours. Rhaish, do you recall that wizard who did tricks for us?"
"Oriena, I think her name was," the Akhendi khirnari replied. "It was a beautiful place, with gardens where it was always springtime, and a great mosaic on the floor showing Aura's dragon. The queen's Palace was much darker, with thick walls like a fortress."
"Which only goes to prove that my ancestor, Queen Tamir, should have included more wizards among her builders," Klia said, smiling.
"I should like to see this Third Oreska," said Amali.
"With pleasure, my lady, though it is a less happy place now than it once was." Thero uttered a quick command, and the city's image was replaced with a view of the Oreska gardens. A few robed
figures were visible there, but the place looked strangely deserted. The scene shifted, and Alec recognized the view of the central atrium from the balcony by Nysander's tower door. Sections of the dragon mosaic still showed the damage caused by the attack of Mardus and his necromancers. Here, too, there were fewer people than Alec remembered from his time there,
"This is how it looks now?" Seregil asked softly.
"Yes." Thero changed the image again, showing them Seregil's Wheel Street villa.
"My Skalan home," Seregil said with a hint of irony.
What would they see if Thero conjured up their true home? Alec wondered. Was the blackened cellar hole still there, or had some new establishment been built over the ruins?
"I know a similar magic," said Saaban. A servant brought him a large silver basin mounted on a tripod. Filling it with water, he blew gently across it. Ripples ridged the surface for an instant, then cleared, leaving in their wake a view of green forests below snowcapped peaks. On a hill overlooking a broad lake lay a white sprawl of interconnected stone buildings similar to the khirnari's house at Gedre, but much larger and more elaborate. A town spread down the hill from it to the wate
r's edge. At the forest's edge, a pillared temple stood in a grove of white birches, its domed roof gleaming in the brilliant sunlight that bathed the scene.
"Bokthersa!" breathed Seregil. "I've forgotten so much."
The image faded and more turab was poured. Seregil drank deeply.
"We saw a bit of Akhendi magic as we passed through your fai'thast, Khirnari," Klia told Rhaish i Arlisandin, holding up her left wrist to show him the carved leaf hanging there.
"They're periapts, aren't they?" asked Thero, who wore a similar one.
"Very good," the khirnari said, acknowledging him with a nod. "It is the knots as much as the amulet itself that hold the magic. Either by itself does not work."
"I'd like to learn how they're made, if that's allowed. We have nothing quite like them in Skala."
"But of course! It's quite a common skill among my folk, though some are better at it than others." Rhaish turned to his wife. "Talia, you have a way with such things. Have you the makings with you?"
"I'm never without them." Amali moved to sit next to the wizard and produced a hank of thin leather laces from a purse at her belt. "It's simply a matter of knowing the patterns," she explained. With
one smooth gesture, she pulled the laces through her hand and produced a short band of intricate weave, far more complex than any the Skalans had seen so far. "The second pass sets the amulet, according to the needs of the intended wearer." She took out a small pouch and spilled a collection of little wooden carvings onto her lap. She gazed at Thero a moment, then chose a simple, tapered plaque carved with an eye symbol. "For wisdom," she told him, setting the charm into the weave and tying it around his wrist.
"One can never have enough of that," laughed Klia.
Amali quickly created another and presented it to her, this one with a bird charm very similar to ones Alec and Torsin wore. "It's just a simple binding spell. It warns if someone is ill-wishing you."
"I've found those to be of use many times," Torsin remarked, showing her his. "I only wish the Oreska wizards had the knack for them."
"Can you tell me what these are?" asked Klia, showing her the carved leaf charm and another made from an acorn strung on a few twisted strands. "I couldn't understand a word of what the woman who made them said."
Amali examined them and smiled. "These are more trinkets or luck pieces than charms, but given with a loving heart. The leaf is for good health; the acorn symbolizes a fertile womb."
"I'll take the health, but I'd best save this other for later." Klia untied the acorn charm and tucked it away.
"And you say this magic is possessed only by Akhendi?" asked Thero, examining a charm on his own wrist with interest.
"Others can sometimes learn a few tricks, but it's our clan's gift— magic using knots, weaving, or bindings." Amali handed him a few laces. "Care to try?"
"But how?" he asked.
"Just think of someone here and will the laces to weave for them."
After several unsuccessful tries, Thero managed to knot two strands into an uneven tangle.
Rhaish chuckled. "Well, perhaps with practice. Allow me to show you something rather more sophisticated."
He walked down into the garden and returned with a handful of flowering vines. Taking a gold ring from his finger, he threaded some of the vine through it, then pressed both between his hands. The vine turned to geld before their eyes, each delicate blossom and leaf gleaming like fine jeweler's work. Rhaish wove it into a wreath and presented it to Klia.
"It's lovely!" she exclaimed, placing it on her head. "How wonderful it must be, to create such beauty with such ease."
"Ah, but nothing is ever as easy as it seems. The real magic is in hiding the effort."
The conversation rambled on over the wine, as if they'd all gathered for an evening of simple pleasure. Presently, however, Klia gently brought them back to business.
"Honored friends, Lord Torsin i Xandus had describe to me his impressions of the Iia'sidra's stand regarding our arrival. I would be most interested to hear your thoughts."
Adzriel tapped a long finger against her chin as she considered the question, and Alec was again struck by the strong resemblance she bore to her brother.
"It's too soon to tell," she replied. "While you may be certain of the support of Bokthersa and Akhendi, or the opposition of Viresse, there are still many who remain undecided. Your goal is to gain aide for your embattled country. Yet what you ask requires us to violate the Edict of Separation, thus embroiling you unwittingly in a debate that has been festering here for years."
"It doesn't have to," Klia countered. "One more open port— that's all we're asking for."
"One port or a dozen; it's all the same," said Riagil. "The Khatme and their supporters want to bar all foreigners from Aurenen soil. Then you have the Viresse; Ulan i Sathil will oppose any change that challenges his monopoly on northern shipping."
"And those who have come to rely on his good favor to market their own wares are being cowed with subtleties not to oppose him," the Akhendi khirnari added, his face darkening with anger. "Whatever you do, never underestimate Ulan i Sathil."
"I remember him well, from the negotiations with the Zengati," said Seregil. "He could charm the stones from the earth, but behind that silky manner lurks the will and the patience of a dragon."
"I've come up against that will many times over the years," Torsin said with a rueful chuckle.
"Who are his surest allies?" asked Thero.
Adzriel shrugged expressively. "Golinil and Lhapnos, without question. Golinil because of blood ties."
"And Lhapnos because they stand to lose valuable trade routes if Gedre opens and northern goods no longer must be shipped down Lhapnos's great river and up the coast to Viresse instead of the short way over our mountains," Rhaish i Arlisandin added.
"That is true, but I still say it is the Edict itself which creates the greatest opposition," said Mydri.
"But that came about because of the murder of Lord Corruth,
didn't it?" asked Alec. "Seregil and I proved who killed him. Hasn't honor—atui—been served?"
She shook her head sadly. "That was not the reason for the Edict, only the catalyst. From the time of the first contact between the Tir and the Aurenfaie, many of our race have resisted mingling with Tir of any sort. For some it is a matter of atui. Others, like the Khatme, claim it is the will of Aura. What it comes down to, however, is the simple drive to preserve our kind."
"Against the making of ya'shel like me, you mean?" said Alec.
"Yes, Alec i Amasa. As much as you resemble the 'faie, the years run differently in your blood—it shows already in the fact that you are almost man-grown at nineteen. That will slow as you get older, but look at Seregil, and Kheeta; three times your age, but not so far ahead. You are neither Aurenfaie nor Tirfaie, but a mingling of both. There are those who feel that more is lost than gained by such a breeding.
"But I think it's the Skalan wizards who concern them most of all," she went on, looking at Thero. "The wizards of Skala call themselves the Third Oreska. The First Oreska is my own race. The mingling of blood gave your people magic, but it also changed that magic over the years. The barrenness of your kind is only part of that change. You can move objects, even people, over great distances, some of you, and read thoughts, a practice strictly forbidden here. You have lost the power of healing, as well." Mydri touched the marks on her cheeks. "This is left to priests of other gods."
"The drysians," Seregil said.
"Yes, the drysians. The only vestiges of that gift seem to exist among the Plenimarans, who took the gift of Aura and mingled it with the black cults of Seriamaius to create necromancy, the perversion of healing."
"This was all being debated generations ago," Adzriel explained. "Corruth's disappearance was only the final puff of wind that caused the smoldering tinder to ignite. Our people still trade with lands to the south and west of Aurenen. The reason they were not included in the ban is that there is no
magic among the ya'shel bred of their kind."
Thero blinked in surprise. "No magic?"
"None that they did not already possess," Saaban amended. "Thus, the existence of the Third Oreska itself remains an impediment in the minds of some, no matter how persuasive your argument. But to answer your original question, those who stand now against you are Viresse, Golinil, Lhapnos, and Khatme, four of the Eleven already."
"What about Ra'basi?" asked Alec, thinking of Nyal. "They border Viresse to the south, don't they?"
"Moriel a Moriel has not stated her clan's position openly, nor have the Haman, for whom the opening of Gedre would almost certainly work to advantage. They have withheld support out of loyalty to their allies in Lhapnos."
"And to spite Bokthersa," Seregil said quietly.
Saaban nodded. "That, as well. Ill will still clouds their judgment. The Silmai, Datsia, and Bry'kha are also elusive; as far west as they are, with trade to the west and south and blood ties mostly among themselves, they have little to gain or lose."
"Who among those three has the most influence?" asked Klia.
"Brythir i Nien of Silmai is the Elder of the Iia'sidra, greatly respected by all," said Mydri, and others nodded agreement around the circle.
"Then perhaps Aura is smiling on our endeavors, after all," said Klia. "We dine with him tomorrow."
The gathering moved indoors as the night air cooled. Alec overheard Thero, Mydri, and Saaban comparing spells and would have joined them, but found himself cornered by a succession of well-intentioned Bokthersans. Across the room, Seregil was just visible in a small crowd of well-wishers.
On his own for the moment, Alec soon gave up trying to keep track of the intricate family connections each new acquaintance listed off to him.
"If the ban of exile is ever lifted, you can be initiated into our clan as his talimenios, you know," a woman informed him in the course of one such conversation.
"That would be a great honor. I was also hoping to trace who my mother's people were."
The faces around him grew solemn. "Not to know your family line, that is a great tragedy," the woman said, patting his hand kindly.