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 gifted had the ability to create a shield to shelter themselves if it rained. Dakon assured him they didn’t mind.
Soon Tessia was trussed up in blankets on the hard ground, staring up at the stars and wryly wondering how she had managed to make herself feel even worse than before. Shame at what she’d said to Jayan overlaid the constant ache of grief.
His father let his mother die for want of a healer? she thought. Is that why he disapproves of my wanting to be a healer? But surely such a tragedy would have the opposite effect.
Clouds flowed across the moon, and darkness closed in round the fires. He was trying to be nice. Maybe I shouldn’t be suspicious of him all the time, but how am I supposed to know when he’s being friendly? She grimaced as she remembered his explanation. His mother died and it was his father’s fault.
He might still have a father, but he did lose both his parents that day.
CHAPTER 20
Exhaustion’s blessing was that it brought a sleep that Tessia did not wake from, despite grief, shame and fear, until long after the sun had risen. The stirring of the camp roused her, and she threw herself into helping Narvelan’s people pack and prepare for the day’s journey. They were travelling, Dakon told her and Jayan, to a village in Narvelan’s ley that was notoriously hard to find even by those invited to it. Small and unimportant, it was unlikely to be considered a strategic target by Takado and his allies – if they even knew it existed – unless they realised it was being used as a meeting place. There, other Circle magicians would join Narvelan, Dakon and Werrin to discuss what they should do next.
The journey was made after dusk the next night, with shadowy figures emerging at intervals to assure the magicians the way ahead was safe. All remained in as close a state to silence as a lot of creaky old carts, harassed domestic animals, and the occasionally fretful baby would allow.
The villagers were mainly strangers to Tessia, but in the darkness the impression that she was surrounded by the people of Mandryn kept sneaking into Tessia’s thoughts. The grumble of an old woman, the laugh of two young boys who’d forgotten the order of silence, the stern reproach of their mother – all reminded her of the people she had grown up among. People who were now dead, but for a few.
Other than Tiken, the metal worker’s boy, who had remained in Mandryn, the survivors had joined Narvelan’s people. They now included one of the young stable workers, Ullan, who had run away when Takado had begun attacking villagers, and a few of the children who had hidden themselves successfully. Salia, the baker’s daughter, had been visiting a sister on one of the farms. She was doubly lucky, because Takado and his allies had killed many of the surrounding farmers and their families after attacking the village.
Tessia glanced back and located Salia walking beside a cart laden with barrels and sacks. At once the young woman dropped her gaze to the ground, biting her lip. She looked guilty, but that didn’t make any sense. Even if Salia had been in the village, she couldn’t have prevented what happened. Ullan, in contrast, did not seem at all bothered about having run away.
Why should he? Tessia thought. He would have died too, if he’d stayed. If he hadn’t taken a horse and ridden to tell Narvelan, it would have taken longer for news of the attack to have reached us.
He was scathing in his assessment of Hanara, though, saying the man had run off to join his master. But nobody had seen Hanara return to the village with Takado, so Tessia suspected he’d done no worse than the stable boy had – fled to save himself. She wondered where he was now. With news of a Sachakan attack spreading it was unlikely anyone would take him in.
They had been climbing a gentle slope, but now the ground levelled and abruptly descended again. Dakon looked at Tessia and smiled.
“Nearly there,” he murmured.
The words were picked up by someone close behind, and relayed in a whisper back through those following. A scraping sound disturbed the night as cart drivers were forced to lower brakes to counter the steepness of the road. Tessia found herself leaning back in the saddle, her back resting against the solid shape of her father’s bag strapped securely behind her.
The slope levelled off as abruptly as it had turned steep, and the trees on either si
de retreated to reveal a handful of small houses, windows glowing with welcoming light. Men and women carrying lamps stood waiting to greet them. Tessia heard sighs and murmurs of relief all around.
Some of Narvelan’s people had ridden ahead to inform the village of their impending arrival, and help the villagers to prepare. Quietly and efficiently, the visitors were divided up among the houses, which were filled with makeshift beds. Animals were penned. Carts were taken into the shelter of stables.
The magicians and apprentices were taken in by the village master, Crannin, who owned a house not much bigger than Tessia’s childhood home. After a hearty but simple meal everyone retired to bed. Crannin and his wife, Nivia, gave up their bedroom for the magicians. The village master and Jayan slept on the floor of the seating room, while Tessia and the man’s wife shared the children’s bedroom. She saw no sign of the children. Perhaps they were being cared for by a neighbour.
Though tired, Tessia did not fall asleep for a long time. She lay awake listening to the breathing of the woman sleeping nearby and thinking about all that had happened since she had visited Dakon’s Residence on her own and unwittingly used magic to fend off Takado.
If she hadn’t slipped away, hoping to impress her father, would she have discovered her ability anyway? Lord Dakon believed so. But maybe it wouldn’t have happened until much later. Maybe she would have still been in the village when Takado attacked. Maybe she would be dead.
And from Tiken’s description, probably taken and used by Takado or one of his allies beforehand. But I guess it’s likely I’d have reacted the same way, and used magic to defend myself. Only he wouldn’t have left me alive after using magic against him, and I’d have been too weak and unschooled to save myself.
If she hadn’t discovered her magic when she had, it was likely she would be dead now along with her parents. Everyone would be dead anyway, whether she had stayed behind when Dakon left for the city or not.
Then she considered what might have happened if Dakon hadn’t left. Tiken hadn’t been sure how many magicians had attacked Mandryn, but there had been more than Takado. He’d run away to hide after seeing only two of them, but he was sure there had been more than that.
Dakon was just one magician. Two Sachakan magicians could have defeated him easily, if they’d prepared themselves by storing lots of power from their slaves. Once he was dead Takado and his allies would have gone on to slaughter the villagers anyway. She and her family would still be dead.
She had to be thankful, though bitterly, that the attack had occurred while she was away. No other scenario she could think of would have allowed her to survive the attack. And no scenario could have saved her parents.
Unless, of course, Lord Dakon and a few other magicians had learned of the attack in time to prepare a defence against it. But there was no point imagining that scenario. Nobody could see into the future. Not even magicians.
Once she fell asleep she slept deeply, and when she woke Crannin’s wife was gone and the smell of cooking filled the house. A dim light suggested early morning. Her stomach grumbled. A basin of water lay on the floor a few steps away, and a clean dress, and she felt a surge of relief and gratitude. Washed and draped in the oversized dress, she bound her hair back and followed the cooking smells to the kitchen.
She found Nivia there assisting a servant to prepare a meal. The pair wouldn’t let her help them, but asked questions about what had happened in Mandryn. Tessia skipped over the more gruesome details, instead telling of Narvelan’s mental call, the subsequent gruelling ride, and the state of the village when they got there.
“What do you think the magicians’ll do?” the servant woman asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Tessia admitted. “Kill the Sachakans, most likely. I guess they have to find them, and there’ll be a fight.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Will you be fighting?”
Tessia considered. “Not exactly, but I’ll probably be there. Lord Dakon is bound to be fighting, and he’ll need Jayan and me to add to his strength. We can’t let ourselves be separated from—”
She stopped as she heard a shout outside. Nivia dropped the knife she had been chopping vegetables with, wiped her hands and hurried out of the room. Tessia followed her to the front door. The woman opened it a crack and peered outside, then pulled it wide open and stepped outside. Tessia could now see several men on horseback entering the village. Kyralians, from the look of them. And by their clothing and manner she guessed these were the magicians come to help them.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor behind them, then Dakon, Werrin and Narvelan pushed past Tessia and Nivia, stepped outside and strode towards the newcomers.
“They’re here, are they?”
Tessia turned to see Jayan emerging from the seating room, running hands through dishevelled hair. He grimaced and began to rub a shoulder.
“I expect so,” Tessia replied. “Do you recognise them?”
She stepped back as he moved to the door.
“Ah. Lord Prinan, Lord Bolvin, Lord Ardalen and Lord Sudin. And their apprentices, by the looks of it. And a servant each.”
Peering over his shoulder, she saw the men dismount. The more plainly dressed riders immediately took hold of the horses’ leads. The young men hung back as their masters greeted Dakon, Werrin and Narvelan.
“Well, shall we meet our new allies?” Jayan asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, but stepped outside and strolled towards the group.
Tessia reluctantly followed. Suddenly she was all too aware how different she was. A woman among all these men. A natural from a humble background among rich young men chosen from powerful families. A beginner among the well trained. It was too easy to imagine them all being like Jayan.
The magicians barely glanced at her and Jayan, but the apprentices eyed Jayan with interest. A few gave her a puzzled look, then seemed to dismiss her. It was not until the magicians had finished their greetings that Dakon paused to introduce her and Jayan. All looked at her in surprise.
Belatedly she realised the oversized dress Nivia had laid out for her would have given them the impression she was one of the villagers. The woman is hardly able to offer up the sort of rich, elaborate clothing that city women prefer. Tessia straightened her shoulders and replied with as much dignity as she could muster, hoping nobody could see how embarrassed and self-conscious she suddenly felt.
Crannin had emerged from his house now, and invited the magicians to eat with him as they discussed plans. He apologised that there was no room for the apprentices now there were so many here, but a table and food would be brought outside as soon as possible.
So once again I’m left out of the important discussions, Tessia thought wryly, but this time at least I’m not the only one.
As the magicians disappeared inside Crannin’s house, the apprentices hovered by the front door, eyeing each other and saying nothing. They looked exhausted. Tessia guessed they had ridden here as quickly, or near to it, as Dakon had to reach Mandryn.
After a few minutes some men from the village emerged from another house and brought benches and tables out of a stable. They washed them down then threw cloths over them. Women emerged from Crannin’s house carrying food and wine and laid out a small feast. The apprentices sat down to eat and soon quiet conversations began among them. They directed all their questions about Mandryn and the Sachakans at Jayan, but Tessia was happy to stay silent and let him deal with them. To her surprise, he was less descriptive than she had been when telling the village women about the attack.
“I don’t think we should tell anyone too much,” he murmured to her after a while. “I’m not sure how much Dakon wants people to know.”
Tessia felt a pang of worry. Had she told Nivia anything she shouldn’t have?
“Like what?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied, a little irritably, turning to face one of the villagers as the man approached. She realised the man was looking at her.
“Apprentice Tessia. Forgive me if this is too bold,” the man said. He paused, then hurried on. “You carry a healer’s bag.”
“Yes,” she said when he didn’t continue. “How do you know that?”
“I’m sorry. I thought it smelled of cures so I had a look inside. Who does it belong to?”
“My father,” she answered. “Or it did. He...he was Mandryn’s healer.”
The man’s face fell. “Oh. I am sorry. I had hoped... sorry.”
As he began to back away she reached out towards him. “Wait. You don’t have a healer here, do you?”
The man shook his head, his expression grim.
“Is someone ill?”
He frowned. “Yes. My wife. She...she...”
“I was my father’s assistant,” she told him. “I may not be able to do anything, but I can have a look.”
He smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take you to her. And have someone bring your bag. “
To Tessia’s surprise Jayan stood up and followed her. When they were out of the hearing of the other apprentices he caught her arm.
“What are you doing?” he said quietly. “You’re not a healer.”
She turned to stare at him. “So? I might still be able to help.”
“What if Dakon calls for you? You’re an apprentice now, Tessia. It’s not...not...”
“Not...?
He grimaced. “You can’t go off playing healer whenever you want to. It’s not... appropriate.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“What’s more or less ‘appropriate’, Jayan: letting someone sick or in pain stay that way – or perhaps even die – because you’re worried about what the other apprentices or their masters might think, or sitting around being a useless waste of space and food?”
He stared back at her, his expression intense and searching. Then his shoulders sagged.
“All right. But I’m coming with you.”
She bit back a protest, then sighed and hurried after the man whose wife was ill. Let Jayan see the woman he would have abandoned to whatever ailment she suffered, for the sake of being “appropriate”. Let him see that there was more to healing than being able to call a person a “healer”. Let him see that the skill and knowledge she had was valuable, and know it shouldn’t be wasted.