Glenda Larke - The Heart of the mirage

Temellin fitted the hilt into his left hand. For a moment it stayed as it was, then the blade was filled with glowing gold light and was translucent no longer. A golden glow played along his skin, and memory awoke in me. That golden woman, my real mother… I tried to focus on that haunting recollection, but details remained elusive.

'Are you particularly attached to your ewer, Derya?' Temellin asked.

Blinking in surprise at the question, I shook my head.

He pointed the sword at the jug and a beam of yellow light shot across the room to burn a hole the size of a child's fist in its side. 'It works,' he said laconically. Then, before I could move, he touched the sword point to my slave collar. 'Let's get rid of this, shall we?' There was a flash of cold light and the collar fell away into pieces on the floor.

'Sweet Melete,' I blurted, and sat down abruptly on the only available stool. I raised my hands to my neck in unfeigned wonder.

'What rank are you, Derya?' Korden asked.

Shock froze my heart. Surely they couldn't know! I licked dry lips. 'Rank? In – in what?'

'What colour is your cabochon?'

I looked at him doubtfully and began to breathe again. 'I don't know what you mean. What's a cabochon?' I had come across the word before, but I couldn't think what it had to do with me. As far as I knew, it was an unfaceted, polished gemstone.

'The stone in your hand, the gem – what colour is it?'

'I – stoneV

'You don't knowY

I shook my head and looked down at my hand. 'There's a gemstone in there?'

He nodded. 'Yes. It would have been there since just after you were born.'

'I didn't know. Or I don't remember knowing. It was always like this… I think. Or was it?' I raised my eyes, confused by tendrils of half-memory. 'There's very little I remember about the time before I left Kardiastan. I was only three or so when I was taken to Tyrans.'

Pinar interrupted, her voice harsh. 'That wasn't what you told the girl Parvana. You only changed your story when you spoke to Temellin. Why?'

I returned her stare, hoping an honest answer would vanquish the obvious doubts she had about me. 'I was afraid she wouldn't trust me if I said I had actually been raised in Tyr.' I looked down at my hand again and touched the lump. 'Apparently, for the first few months I was in Tyrans I refused to open my hand. I think someone – my mother? – had told me not to show it to anyone. Oh, Goddess, was that because the gemstone was uncovered then?' Memory fluttered once more. 'Was that why I kept my hand covered so long? Until the skin grew over the stone that was there?'

It was Temellin who replied. 'It could be. Until the invasion, everyone wore their cabochons openly. We

kept the skin pushed back. Now we all keep them skin-covered, because we feel the less the Tyranians know about them, the better. It doesn't make any difference to their efficiency if they're covered or not. Can't you remember anything about your life here in Kardiastan?'

Efficiency? At what? I shook my head. 'Not really. There was a woman, some fighting, but it's all very vague now. What does the colour of the stone – cabochon – mean?'

'Anyone who has a gem is one of the Magor. But there are three colours. The most common is green. It is not as powerful as the others. Those who wear the green we term the Theuros. If you are a woman and of the Theuros, you are called Theura; a man, Theuri. The next most powerful is red, and that makes you of the Illusos: an Illusa or an Illuser. The highest rank is that of the Magoroth. A Magoroth woman is a Magoria, the man a Magori. Their cabochons are gold. It is the rarest power of all. It is from among the Magoroth that the ruler – whether Mirager or female Miragerin – comes.' He waved a hand around at the group. 'We here all have gold cabochons. We are all of the Magoroth.'

I tried to absorb all that at once, but there were too many blanks. Powerful? The gems had some power? Their hereditary ruler could be a woman*. Acheron's hells, what colour was my stone? I itched to haul out my knife and cut the skin of my palm to take a look. I suppressed the desire. To start with, I didn't want to reveal I carried a knife, and, anyway, the action might not have been in keeping with the character of Derya. I preferred them to think of her as meek, not aggressive.

'Temel, should you be telling her this?' Pinar interrupted again, her face pulled into a frown. 'After

all, we hardly know her. She could be a Tyranian spy. There's nothing to say someone brought up in Tyrans will be loyal to us simply because they are Magor. Especially not when they are untrained Magor.'

'Pinar is right,' Korden agreed. 'We should wait, Temel, until we've had time to question her and ascertain the honesty of her answers.'

Temellin laughed. 'I have already,' he said.

He smiled at me, but Korden maintained a stern facade, backed up with an underlying disapproval. 'Don't say anything else.'

Temellin capitulated. He shrugged, grinning at me.

All the time they were speaking, their emotions flicked around the room, subtly loosed and then curbed as they reinforced the spoken word and layered their conversation with tiers of unspoken meaning. It was too quick, too skilfully done for me to be able to follow in its entirety – a subliminal, foreign language. Its presence challenged me, and my hunter's soul stirred once more. They had picked the wrong person to play games with…

'We are being watched,' said Jessah suddenly. 'By a non-Kardi.'

They all fell silent, heads tilted as if listening. Goddessdamn, I thought, they sense Brand! Why didn't I think of that? Of course they can do all the things I can – and more besides. My heart sped up, my muscles tensed, but I was careful not to look interested.

'She's right,' said the youngest among them – Garis. 'What ought we to do?'

'He's alone. Kill him,' Korden said casually. 'Whoever it is, he is not Kardi.'

I bit my lip in chagrin. T know who it is. It's Brand. He means no harm to you. He's an Altani slave of the Legata's. He must have followed me.'

'So you have the positioning and recognising powers,' Jessah said in surprise. 'And without training. What else can you do?'

I thought of lying, of keeping something back, but decided not to risk it. 'Sense the truth or a lie. Read emotions. Help people not to feel pain. That's all.' That's all? Stated so boldly, it sounded astonishing. I felt sick.

fessah's husband, Jahan, was excited. 'Why,' he said, 'she might just be an Illusa! We must have a look!'

'Magor take it, Jahan! Not now,' Korden growled. He turned to me. 'What do you mean he must have followed you?'

I was careful to tell the truth. 'He saw me take the sword. He must be following to make sure I am all right. He is very protective of me.'

'Oh, a lover,' Pinar said with contempt.

Korden frowned at Temellin. 'How did you manage to miss him on the way here? That was careless, Temel. That kind of mistake could be fatal.' He nodded at Garis. 'Bring him in, lad.'

'Shouldn't I go?' I asked. 'I don't want anyone hurt.'

Garis laughed as if that was a joke, and left.

'He won't hurt Brand, will he?' I asked, my anxiety real. These people had power I knew nothing about, and I began to wonder if I were out of my depth.

¦ 'He won't have to,' Temellin said easily. 'And we're not in the business of killing non-Tyranians, especially not those who have also suffered under the yoke of Tyranian slavery. Quite the contrary.'

It seemed he was right to be so little worried because a few minutes later Garis re-entered the room holding a dazed Brand by the arm. 'He shields his emotions,' he complained. T can't read him. How in the world did he learn to do that?'

'He taught himself,' I said, 'in order to protect his privacy from me. We grew up together. He is like a brother to me. He means no harm. Brand,' I added reproachfully, 'why did you follow me? The truth now. These people will know if you lie.' I continued to speak in Kardi, but he had sufficient knowledge of the language to understand. He had grown up around me and Aemid, after all, although he didn't usually try to speak it.