The Lesser Kindred

  Even in the fullness of my power I do not wish to battle all of that nation at once.

  Though I could do it, for the Demonlord, brought back into life, will surely be the final death of that people. Indeed, as I think of it, my problems would thus be resolved at a single stroke. For behold, I know now how to summon him, how to raise up a body to enshroud him, and my power over Marik will provide the required sacrifice of a living soul when the body presents itself to me.

  I have been searching much of my adult life, reading all, daring all to ask very particular questions of very particular demons, and now I have found it. He was clever, the Demonlord, but he could not have expected that one such as I would arise. He was the greatest power of his time, thanks to the Rakshasa, but even without their help I am a hundred times stronger than he.

  He could not have known that Healers as a class would grow more powerful as time went on, and that the use of the Power would expand as it has. Where only the very best of his time could smooth a broken bone and hasten its healing, that is now routinely performed by Healers of the third rank and above. Now we can cure illnesses of the mind, which difficult and delicate accomplishment they never even dreamed of.

  I know where he is and how to bring him back, and I have that which alone will summon him. My final accomplishment will come tonight, when I discover how to be rid of him when I am finished with him, for he who cannot banish the demon he summons is the greatest fool of all.

  Oh, yes, he was clever and daring, the Demonlord, but I am more clever than he, for I can bring him here and make him do my will, and tonight I will learn how to kill or banish him when I require him no longer. That is true power.

  Two days later I will be prepared to complete the summoning that was begun at the change of the year, on the darkest day of midwinter. Somewhere—I neither know nor care where—earth shakes and fire spews skyward as the demon creature grows to maturity. I would not care to be there when it is birthed.

  However, enough of such pleasant speculation. I must go and have a last word with Erthik.

  Will

  Rumour flies as fast as thought in this college. I was passed in the corridor midmorning by four of the Magistri: Erthik was muttering something about Berys, and then I heard Vilkas’s name.

  I was approaching Vil’s chamber when I heard someone leaving, and the voice made me shiver. I ducked around the nearest corner, heard footsteps going, thank Shia, in the opposite direction and fade to silence. I went up to his door and was dragged inside almost before I had finished knocking.

  “The bloody bastard!” said Vilkas, with a heat I had never seen in him. “To threaten us so for experimenting! Every time I see him he reeks worse of the Rakshasa.” Vil looked directly at Aral, which was unusual enough to catch my attention. He seldom looked directly at anyone. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “No, I managed to turn most of it,” she said, rubbing her arm and not seeing his glance. Just as well for her, for the care and concern he allowed himself to show might have undone her. “But I swear he meant to wound me badly. If I hadn’t been on my guard, I’d have been thrown across the room at least. Lady curse him to death and darkness—”

  “Stop right there, you,” I said quietly. “No curses.”

  “Will, you weren’t there. Damn it! If I’d had a knife I’d have gone for him.”

  I put a hand on her shoulder, briefly. I didn’t dare leave it there very long. “I know, lass. But that would make it worse, not better. Knives are not the way for that one.”

  “Will, he’s insane!” she cried, whirling away from me. “He tried to injure me, then stood there lecturing us about how misuse of the Power is forbidden, and then he called up a pair of demons! With no altar, no incantation that I could see, he called two demons into the room and pretended to be helpless. He made us get rid of them. As it was I could barely breathe for the stink of demons all around him. And we’re called up before the Assembly in only two hours, and the Lady only knows what they’re going to do.”

  “Hells’ teeth, Vil. Was it really that bad?” I said to Vilkas as I steered Aral into a chair before the fire. She subsided into muttering to herself. I tried not to listen to the words.

  “In fact it went a little better than I had hoped, though there are two very different aspects of this to consider,” he replied coolly. He had regained his composure and was watching Aral with a cheerfully bemused expression. “To be honest, we have long suspected that what we were doing was not widely acceptable. Magistra Erthik doesn’t seem all that worried, but then she knows both of us.” He paused for a moment. “Interesting that Berys felt threatened enough to want to defend himself, even if it was quite amazingly feeble. Claiming research to explain the Raksha-stink, indeed! And he took the trouble to insult me, which I find unsettling.”

  I looked at him. “Insulted you? How? And why should that bother you?”

  “By disparaging my Power. He called it a ‘nimbus’.” Vilkas stood behind Aral’s chair and leaned over slightly, and I noticed he was surrounded even as we spoke with a subtle blue cloud. I guessed he was checking Aral to be certain she was uninjured. It took only a moment. “I don’t give a damn what he says, Will, it only concerns me because I have been careful never to show him enough of my ability to draw attention to myself.” He half grinned at me. “I believe he has noticed now.”

  “Noticed you? That’s good. Who did all the work?” complained Aral, turning round in her chair to look up at him. “Nimbus, indeed! That’s what they call the lowest level of Power, Will. Healers who haven’t started their training or who don’t have a gift beyond the first level have a”nimbus’ when they summon the Power.” She snorted.”I expect Vil has one when he’s fast asleep. His corona is every bit as bright as Berys’s and a damn sight cleaner.”

  Vil nodded to me and walked over to the fire, warming his hands, leaning against the mantelpiece. Aral, on the other hand, leapt to her feet, her frustration not letting her sit still. “Have you any chélan, Vil? I’m dry as the great southern desert and I can’t sit still when I want to kill someone.”

  “The leaves are in the cupboard and I suspect we need more water. Make enough for us all, would you?” said Vilkas. She got on with it, knowing her way around Vilkas’s chambers as around her own. Vil went to stir the fire while I wandered over to the window and stared out at the bright morning, trying to take it all in. That Berys was on easy terms with demons I could well believe, but to summon one in broad daylight where both Vil and Aral could see him do it—it did not bode well at all. I had in my gut a cold certainty that great things were now moving and we had best deal with them by assuming the worst. I glanced over to where the two of them were making chélan, she growling at him, he speaking quietly to her.

  Typical.

  “What’s caught your mind, Will?” asked Aral a moment later, still with a brow like thunder but a little calmer than she had been. “I asked you three times if you wanted honey in yours. You’ve got some now, want it or not.”

  “A cold day like this needs the sweetness, I thank you.”

  Vil had taken up his post, leaning that slim frame of his against the side of the fireplace while Aral and I sat before it. We had gathered thus many a time, ever since I had first come across them arguing in the gardens soon after Aral arrived. I had stood watching them full five minutes before either noticed me, and by then they had been standing on my seedlings for quite some while. They brought me others a few days later, by way of apology, and a friendship developed. I was just that bit older than either of them, perhaps a matter of eight years older than Vilkas, who was the younger by a year, and I had become a kind of mentor to them both. It pleased me greatly. They were good souls and I enjoyed their bickering. It was very much like my sister Lyra and me at their age—though what I felt about Aral was most certainly not the love of a brother.

  I was about to ask them what they were going to do next when there was a knock at the door. Instinctively I hid myself as Vil open
ed it. Don’t ask me why.

  It was Magistra Erthik and Magister Caillin. “Hullo, you young idiot,” said Erthik cheerfully. “Berys has decided you need guarding, which just goes to show how well he knows you. Caillin and I will be here until you two are due at Assembly. I thought you should know.”

  “Magistra, surely you do not believe—”

  “Vilkas,” she said, “the only thing I truly believe is that Berys is as twisted as a corkscrew. I’m not a fool, you know, I can smell the Raksha-stink as well as you can.” I couldn’t see, but her voice sounded as if she were smiling. “I’ve been waiting years for this particular Assembly, my lad. We may even manage to get Berys tossed out on his crooked ear. Just you tell the truth, all of it, and you’ll be fine. Now go away, I’m not meant to be talking to you.”

  Vil shut the door, and he and Aral made enough noise to cover my retreat to the window, where we were far enough from the door to speak in whispers.

  “So, Vil,” said Aral quietly. “What next? Sounds like the Assembly is going to be nice and lively! I just wish I knew what they are planning to do to us.”

  “I have absolutely no idea,” replied Vilkas, his voice barely loud enough to hear. “I can’t believe it will be only a lecture, we’ve already had one of those.” He grinned, looking for an instant like an overgrown imp. “Do they throw folk out of here, or are we more like to face a slit throat and a gutter for a graveyard?”

  “Mages are not allowed to kill, idiot,” said Aral. “Remember? Though I don’t suppose they’d hesitate to toss us out.”

  “Mages aren’t allowed to deal with the Rakshasa either, but Berys does so all the time,” said Vilkas with some heat.

  “That’s quite an accusation, Vil,” I said sternly but very quietly, “and for Erthik’s sake, you’d best be sure you have proof if you say it in the Assembly.”

  “The things don’t just appear, Will. Someone has to call them. We didn’t.” He looked across at me slowly. “I think it has come to the point, you know. I think he was hoping we’d react too slowly. If we hadn’t been ready that demon would have killed me and it would look like an accident. I’d be dead and it would be Aral’s word against his.”

  “Goddess,” breathed Aral. “You’re right, Vil. Sweet heaven. Has it gone so far? Does he really want you dead now?”

  “That is the only reasonable explanation I can think of for his summoning those Rikti,” said Vilkas. He was very cool about it.

  “You’re certain he did it?” I asked.

  Vil frowned at me. “I told you, they can’t just show up. Besides, can’t you smell it on him?”

  “Smell what?”

  “That acrid stink that clings to him and everything he touches. It’s the Raksha-trace. He fairly reeks of it, I can smell it across the room.”

  I smiled a little sadly. “You know, I should be flattered that you keep forgetting, but I must remind you that I have no Healer’s talent at all. None. Not the slightest hint. I’m every bit as able to smell demons as, oh, that brick in the hearth. I’d know a demon was behind me if it bit me in the ass, but that’s about it.”

  Aral sniggered but Vilkas remained solemn. “Will, do you have any idea what they might be planning to do at this Assembly?” he said.

  “No, lad, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve never heard of students being called before the entire Assembly. One or two of the Magistri have joined Berys for a disciplinary hearing, yes, but never all of them.” I grinned. “Sounds like Erthik has a few ideas of her own, in any case. You might find that you are able to fade into the background when the real show begins.”

  “Possibly, but I don’t expect we’ll get away untouched,” he said.

  “Well, they can’t kill us, there isn’t a prison here, and they can’t take away our power,” said Aral, then her eyes grew wide. “Sweet Shia, Vil,” she said, struggling to keep her voice low, “they can’t take away our power, can they?”

  “No,” he said decisively. I looked the question. “I’ve done quite a bit of research on that subject, Will,” he replied. Unexpectedly, he smiled. “Just making sure. But no, Aral, there is no known way to decrease or disperse a Mage’s inborn power, though it is possible to put—a—block …”

  And Vil started swearing, loud and creatively, pacing up and down the room like a caged heron on his long legs, and throwing in a little blasphemy for good measure. He didn’t often crack like that. I watched, interested. I wouldn’t have tried to stop him or even slow him down for worlds. He soon got himself under control again, but he was physically quivering with rage. I’d heard of such a thing but never seen it. In someone as intense as Vilkas, believe me, it’s frightening.

  Just then there came a strange soft noise from outside the door. I looked for somewhere to hide and found only bare walls behind me, but the noise was not repeated and no one knocked. In a moment Vilkas spoke, still in an undertone but with absolute fury in his voice.

  “That’s it, Aral, that’s what they’re going to do,” he managed to growl. “I’ve read about it. They won’t kill us. They’ll just put a block on us that we won’t be able to lift for three years. That’s what the records say. Then we get sent away and warned not even to try to use our power lest it destroy us in the backlash.” He stopped pacing and looked solemnly at her. “The only question is, do we run for it now, or do we hope they don’t have the measure of our ability and try to get rid of the block once it’s in place?”

  Aral stared at him. “Do you really think we could run for it? How would we get past the two on the door?”

  Vil said nothing but bowed and gestured at the window.

  “We’re two floors up!” hissed Aral.

  “I’ve been levitating you for weeks now,” murmured Vilkas, one corner of his mouth tilting up. “What makes you think I’ve forgotten so quickly?”

  To my delight, Aral grinned back at him. “Hmm. Good point. I like it.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “What if Berys is ready for you?”

  “I’d be willing to wager that Berys has never even considered that we might run,” replied Vil urgently. “I saw him. He assumes that we’ll come along to the Assembly if only to spite him and make accusations we can’t possibly prove.” Vilkas pulled himself to his full height, looming over Aral. “The more fool he,” he said in a whisper, but with immense dignity. “I will not put myself in his power. Are you coming, Aral?”

  “I can’t talk you out of this?” she said with a sigh, knowing the answer.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Hell, . blast and bugger it. Yes, I’m coming. Let me get my cloak so I don’t freeze.”

  “Where will you go?” I asked quietly.

  “Away,” said Vilkas shortly. “If you don’t know you can’t be forced to tell.”

  “True enough, though I don’t think it has quite got to the stage yet where Berys can torture the staff without someone noticing,” I replied calmly. And suddenly it all seemed so unreal, so stupid, that I refused to play the silly game anymore. Honestly, grown men huddled whispering in a corner! “In fact,” I said, standing up and speaking normally, “this whole thing is ridiculous.” I felt like I was shouting, but suddenly I refused to allow this nonsense to continue. “Come on, you two. I need to speak to Magistra Erthik.” I strode to the door and opened it.

  Well, I wasn’t to know.

  Magistra Erthik was there but I wasn’t able to speak to her. No one would ever speak to her again. Both she and Magister Caillin lay in crumpled heaps, like puppets with cut strings. His face showed only surprise. Hers was set in a mask of rage.

  I leaned back into the room. “We’re leaving. Now,” I commanded. Don’t ask me why they didn’t argue or wonder—Aral told me later I was snow-white and just for that moment had a voice like her father. They came without question.

  Vilkas took one look, grabbed Aral by the arm and started dragging her away towards the front gate. I followed.

  Ah well, I thought as I hurried behind them. That?
??s me in it up to the eyeballs, at any rate.

  As soon as we hit the deserted corridors outside the first years’ chambers, we started to run.

  x

  The Price of Belts and Bright Days

  Varien

  I learned that evening why Lanen had been so ill. Rella met me on the stair as I was returning from my bath.

  “Varien, there’s been a Healer in to see Lanen,” she said, stopping one step above me. We each carried candles and the flickering shadows were disconcerting. I could hardly see her face, but her voice was grave. “She’s a little better but she’s not well.”

  Rella’s concern seemed greater now than before we had entered the city. “Was the Healer not able to aid her?” I asked. “I have seen Gedri healers bring Lanen back from the brink of death. What did the Healer say? What afflicts her so?”

  Rella held the candle away from her face. “Go to her, Varien. She needs you.”

  I stood back to allow her to pass on her way down the stair. I climbed slowly, breathing in long deep breaths, taking myself through the first stages of the Discipline of Calm that was so helpful in controlling the fierce passions of the Kantri. I did manage to slow the rapid beating of my heart.

  I opened the door to our room slowly, lest she should be sleeping.

  I have tried to forget that moment, but I cannot. It is an odd trait—both Kantri and Gedri remember events in much the same way, but I find there is a curious effect when the heart is most deeply involved. The strangest visions choose to stamp themselves on the memory.

  The long side of the bed faced the door with its head against the right-hand wall, and the single candle by the bedside shone on Lanen’s gleaming hair, for her face was turned away from me, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms around them. I thought she was gazing out the small window directly opposite the door.

  “Lanen,” I said softly, as I put the candleholder on the shelf by the door. She did not move.