She was surprised to feel the knot in her gut loosen up a bit when he referred to her as a witch. Apparently her battered subterfuge was holding. “I am.”
“The tales I heard of your adventures were quite remarkable. A pleasure to meet you at last.” He offered his hand. “Though I do admit to some surprise at seeing you this far from home.”
I have no home, she thought, accepting the gesture as a woman should, with the fleeting touch of her fingertips. His demeanor surprised her, not only because she had not expected such a friendly welcome, but because his manner was so . . . well, so morati. Perhaps he was still young enough that habits of morati life came naturally to him. It was certainly not that way with Colivar. No matter how friendly that one seemed, no matter how casual his manner was, she never forgot for a moment that he was a predator at heart, and one of the most ancient and powerful of his kind.
As this one may be as well, she told herself. Don’t be swayed by appearances.
“I have some business in the south,” she answered him. She didn’t want to give him any real information about herself, but she knew that she would not be able to get what she wanted without offering something in return.
“And you wish me to be part of that business. Is that it?”
His bluntness startled her. “I need your help finding someone,” she said.
“Ah. I see.” He steepled his fingers before him. “And what reason would I have to help you, instead of simply telling you to seek out a witch instead? Though”—the lips curled in a half-smile—“if the stories I hear are true, you are more skilled than most others of your kind.”
“Because the one I seek is Colivar,” she said.
The smile faded. The energy in the room seemed to shift palpably, taking on a strangely edged quality. Was that just because she was asking one Magister to help her find another—an odd request at the best of times—or was something more going on? She wished she knew him well enough to read him.
“Indeed.”
“I have a message for him.” She could sense Sulah’s power pricking at her mental defenses, searching for additional data, but keeping Magisters out of her brain had become second nature for her by this point.
“And you think that I would know how to contact him . . . why, exactly?”
Because I know you are his ally. Because I heard his words to you on the mountaintop. Because I believe that he trusts you, as much as any Magister can ever trust another. “It was said in Kierdwyn that the two of you had worked together in the past.” There had been enough Magisters in Kierdwyn after the Alkali campaign to make that a safe lie. “So I thought I would take a chance and see if you could help.”
“Interesting,” he mused. “And in return for my playing the part of delivery boy, what do you offer?”
She drew in a deep breath. She’d expected the question, of course. It was actually a very good sign; if he had no interest in helping her he wouldn’t be sounding her out on price. But this was dangerous ground. The only thing she really had to offer him was the information she’d gathered for Colivar, and Sulah probably had that already. Or if he didn’t, it was because Colivar had chosen not to share it with him, which meant that she shouldn’t do so either. She couldn’t tell him about Siderea’s location because she had a vested interest in Colivar being the first Magister to get there. And she certainly couldn’t tell him that she suspected a trap had been set for Colivar in Tefilat. No alliance of Magisters was ever on such solid ground that the temptation to send an ally directly into an enemy’s clutches might not outweigh all other interests.
“I have information for Colivar,” she said. “Obviously I can’t give it to anyone else until I’ve delivered it. But once that’s done, I wouldn’t be averse to sharing it with others.”
She could sense his mind churning as he considered the offer. “That might not please him.”
“Then he does not have to know,” she said quietly.
Learn the secrets of another Magister, Sulah. Keep secrets from him in turn. It was powerful bait, and she watched as he considered it.
“You will give me the same report you give to him,” he said finally.
She bowed her head. “Of course, Magister Sulah.”
They both knew she would not do that. But they also both knew that she must come close to the mark, for fear of being caught in a lie. Sulah might not get every single bit of information she had gathered for Colivar, but he’d get enough of it to make it worth his while.
“Very well.“ He nodded sharply. “I accept your offer.”
He walked over to where a map was laid out on a nearby table. From where she stood she could see that it depicted Anshasa and the lands immediately surrounding it. It was considerably more detailed than the map Ethanus had shown her, and it was labeled in languages familiar to her; she quickly bound a bit of power to fix the image of it in her memory, against future need.
“Colivar isn’t here now,” Sulah said, “But I expect him to return shortly. I can arrange for you to wait here for him, or I can contact you when he returns.”
She bit her lip, wondering how to get more information out of him without giving away too much. “Have you seen him recently?” she dared.
His blue eyes narrowed. For a moment she thought he might try to steal her information directly from her mind, and she braced herself to parry his effort. But it never came. No doubt he was guessing that she was Colivar’s servant and was weighing the risk of interfering with another man’s property. That might have bothered her once. There was a time when she might even have made some rash statement of independence, just to make it clear that no man owned her. But if recent affairs had not tempered her spirit, they had at least taught her the value of subtlety. If it served her purpose for Sulah to think she was Colivar’s servant, then she would not correct him.
“He was here a few days ago,” Sulah said. “He went out to gather some information and was going to return after that.”
Information on the Souleater queen, Kamala guessed But then I gave that to him. So he should have returned to you by now.
Unless the news that there was no queen in Tefilat had made him feel that he could visit there safely, to seek more information on his own.
A cold shiver ran up her spine.
I am too late.
“Then let him know when you see him that I have news for him. Something he’ll wish to hear before taking any further action. He’ll know how to reach me.” It took all of her self control to keep her expression from revealing the depths of her dismay. If Colivar had already gone to Tefilat, then he was exactly where Siderea Aminestas wanted him to be. And Kamala had failed to warn him in time. She wanted to put her fist through the stone wall in frustration, venting her rage at the gods. Maybe if Sulah had not been standing there, she would have done so. As it was, she just took a deep breath, fixed a mask of utter impassivity upon her face, and politely took her leave.
The servant who had brought her to Sulah was waiting outside the chamber door. When he saw her come out, he bowed his head briefly, then turned to lead her back to the main gate. She started to follow him . . . and then realized that there was one more piece of information she needed to have. And she would not get a better opportunity to gather it than this.
It took little effort to warp the servant’s mind so that he remembered having led her out of the palace already. The man shook his head in confusion for a moment, then took off in pursuit of his next task. No other morati would be able to see her; her sorcery could see to that. Only a Magister was resistant to such tricks.
Perhaps.
Heart pounding, she tried to still her spirit so that she could focus her mind inward. If Colivar’s theory was right, then somewhere deep inside her was the seed of a Souleater’s power. Perhaps even a queen’s power. Could she awaken it somehow? And what would the cost to her be, if she did?
I may have been drawing upon it unconsciously all along, she reminded herself. If so, it should be possible
to wield it consciously as well. Yes?
Shutting her eyes, she tried to bring to mind the strange essence of the power that had surrounded the northern queen. Tried to taste once more that armor of invisibility that had shielded the ikati’s territory, turning Kamala’s attention aside any time she tried to look in the wrong direction. The same kind of power that now guarded the Witch-Queen in Jezalya, albeit less dramatically. It had not proven an insurmountable obstacle to Kamala, but such a power might have a much greater effect upon the males of her kind.
Or so she hoped.
Unexpectedly, memories began to flash through her mind. Disjointed fragments of recall, divorced from context. Her assault on Magister Raven. Her battle with the Souleater. Her midnight passage through the halls of Anukyat’s castle, past guards who should have seen her, past wards that should have detected her.
A cold shiver ran down her spine as something dark stirred within her, a sense of alien power that was both terrifying and invigorating. No, she thought defiantly, it was not an alien power. It was her birthright.
Come to me, she whispered mentally, trying to coax the source of that power out of its hiding place. Lend me your strength. Shield me with your gift. Then she corrected herself: Our gift.
It seemed to her that the sorcerous cocoon she had woven around herself grew warmer then, as if something new had been added to its substance. Or was that only her imagination? Did she want to claim this new power so badly that she was fantasizing changes where none existed?
There was only one way to find out.
Breath held, heart pounding, she reentered Sulah’s chamber. He was sitting at his desk, studying the great map, adding notes to it now and then. An inkwell hovered a few inches over the desk, and when he reached out with his quill it positioned itself perfectly beneath his point, so that not a drop of ink was spilled.
He did not appear to notice her return.
She watched him for a while, then took a step into the room. Then another.
He still did not acknowledge her presence.
Step by step she moved closer to him, until she was squarely within his line of vision. All he had to do was look up, and he would see her. She found herself trembling as she waited for that to happen. Imagining how terrible his rage would be, once he detected the invasion.
But he detected nothing. Time and time again he dipped his pen in the ink and added notes to the map as if there were no one else in the room.
You can’t sneak up on a Magister, Ethanus had taught her. The very spell that makes you invisible to morati eyes reveals your presence to us, and no trick of sorcery can make it otherwise. A Magister may not be able to see your face, or even know exactly where you’re standing, but if you get close enough to him he’ll sense the nearness of your sorcery. Such a thing cannot be hidden.
A sudden noise from somewhere outside the chamber startled Kamala. Before she could move out of the way Sulah looked up. Panic surged in her gut as she realized she was standing directly between him and the doorway, but it was too late to correct the situation.
The clear blue eyes turned her way, and for a moment it seemed he was looking directly at her. Then the spell supporting his inkwell seemed to falter, and he turned his attention to reinforcing it. By the time the time he was done with that, the disturbance outside the door had ceased, and he went back to his work as if nothing untoward had happened.
He had not seen her.
He had not seen her!
Legs trembling, she backed away, then turned and hurriedly left the chamber. Servants in the hall beyond moved out of her way without even realizing they were doing so, in response to the spell that now protected her. Magisters would do so as well, she realized. Colivar had been right about what she was, which meant that Siderea’s own arsenal was now at her fingertips. She just had to figure out how to use it.
Colivar.
He had gone to Tefilat. Alone. She knew that with utter certainty, as surely as she knew that the sun would rise in the morning. He had walked straight into Siderea’s trap. And she, Kamala, had played a part in sending him there. As had Sulah. They all had danced to the Witch-Queen’s tune without even knowing it.
Anger welled up inside her, along with a terrible guilt. The latter was an alien, sickening emotion, even more powerful than the remorse she had felt at Rhys’ funeral. What had happened to the fierce young whore who once made no apologies to anyone, offered no regrets for anything, and accepted the consequences of her actions as the necessary price of independence? The closer she got to other people, the more she seemed to lose sight of her.
Colivar.
There were reasons to want him alive, she told herself. He was ancient enough that his word was respected, and powerful enough that he did not need to fear the displeasure of any other Magister. And he had hinted that he might help her untangle herself from the mess she had gotten herself into with Raven’s murder. Losing that kind of assistance was no small thing. So if she wanted to keep him alive, it was for purely practical reasons. Guilt had nothing to do with it.
No one noticed her leaving the palace. Why should they? A single bird, rising up from an empty balcony into the morning sky, was of no interest to anyone. Eyes turned away from her without knowing why. Sorcerous defenses let her pass without a ripple of awareness. Sulah remained focused on his map, and all the things that normally took place in a royal palace continued to take place, as normal.
Sunlight warming her wings, heart cold with dread, Kamala turned toward Tefilat.
Chapter 23
T
EFILAT WAS dry. Dry in a way that sucked all the moisture out of one’s flesh, making every cell in one’s body scream out for water. It seemed to Kamala that she could feel her skin aging as she stood there, and though she had dressed lightly for the trip, allowing for the desert heat, she now added a long, loose robe to her ensemble, to protect her from the worst of the blazing sun.
Surely only madmen would choose to live in such a place.
She scouted the ancient city in the form of a bird at first, then as a lizard, scuttling over the red earth, freezing whenever she caught sight of any motion. Despite her experiment with Sulah she was loath to trust too much to the strange power of the ikati queen, lest she make careless assumptions about its parameters.
But when a bird of prey passed overhead and did not even glance down at her lizardlike body, she felt a tingle of triumph. Was it possible that no creature could see her at all? Not Magisters, not morati? It was a heady concept.
Stay focused, she told herself. You have a job to do here.
She could just barely make out Colivar’s trail across the canyon floor. It was a faint trail, as befitted a Magister who habitually took great care to erase all signs of his passage. But one could never erase such traces completely. By now she had interacted with him often enough (intimately enough?) that she was able to pick out the faint traces of his resonance, untangling them from all the other traces that clung to the place, and from the random sparks of power that buzzed about the place like frenzied horseflies.
She could see where he had entered the central plaza, where he had stood for a while, no doubt studying his surroundings. And she could see where his trail led up a short flight of stairs, into the most opulent structure facing the plaza. There were traces of sorcery hanging about the building’s façade that appeared to be his, perhaps a ward of some kind. She considered for a moment whether or not she wanted to disturb it—a spell that was primed to deliver information to him might be the fastest way to locate him—but she decided upon a more cautious approach. This whole place made her skin crawl as it was; she didn’t want to disturb it any more than she had to.
Of Colivar himself there was no sign. None. The traces of his passage were cold, dead things, that seemed to have no living source. If he had been taken somewhere far away, would they look like that? She had never attempted to track a Magister in this manner before, so she did not know. Ethanus’ lessons had not included su
ch things.
He is not dead, she thought stubbornly. I need him too much for him to be dead.
Wary of disturbing the main entrance, she changed back into lizard form and scuttled up the wall. It took considerable effort, and her skin itched when the change was done, as if she had not done it quite right. But it was worth the effort. Anyone watching for a Magister’s arrival at the upper level would probably be watching for winged creatures, as that was the form sorcerers habitually used for travel. A sandstone-colored lizard would hardly be noticed. And then there was Kamala’s unique sorcery. If the power of the ikati queen could turn living eyes away from her, could it cause sorcery to look past her presence as well? There were so many questions she needed answers for, but she had no one to help her answer them. She was a brand new creature with unknown, unnamed powers, and only by trial and error would she learn what her limits were.
She clung to the wall of the canyon for a good while, looking the place over with her sorcery. From up here it was easier to get a fix on things, and at last she felt satisfied that she was genuinely alone.
Which was not a good thing, since there was someone she wanted to find.
With a brief check for wards at the upper windows (there were none), she slipped inside the building and reclaimed her human form. The room she was in was dusty, with a fine reddish grit that had drifted into dunes along the walls. No footprints were visible, nor any other sign of recent passage. But that meant very little, she knew. She was using sorcery to smooth the dust behind her own passage, so that she left no footprints of her own; someone else could have done the same.
Carefully she made her way through the upper chambers, room by room, searching for . . . what? What kind of clue did you look for when a Magister had disappeared? There was nothing of interest on the upper level. On the lower level she picked up Colivar’s trace once more. He had walked through this place under his own power, it seemed. That was a good sign, at least. She followed his trail into a room filled with furniture and supplies, but it did not appear that he had touched anything, nor was there a residue of his sorcery anywhere that she could detect. None of these objects had mattered to him.