Glenda Larke - The Heart of the mirage

'But Jessah and Jahan are married, surely!' I protested.

He nodded, unconcerned. 'Yes. That's common enough among the Magor. It makes for strong children, both in body and Magor abilities.'

I was shocked. Brothers married sisters? 'That's disgusting. It makes for idiots, too,' I said finally, my distaste as strong as bile on the tongue. In Tyranian mythology, our nation had been brought close to ruin by the incestuous love of Cestuous and Caprice, Tyr's early founders. Although repeatedly warned by the gods, they had been defiant, continuing their relationship until the gods had punished them – and Tyr too, for condoning their behaviour. Their children were born crippled and warped. They'd grown up to rule the fledgling nation, but their lives of corruption, heedless dissipation and final madness had brought the city to financial and military ruin. Plague and famine had followed. It had taken Tyrans generations «*» to prosper after that.

'Idiots?' Garis smiled. 'Among common folk perhaps, but not with us. In fact, it is encouraged as a source of strength.'

'It's – unnatural. Horrible!' Some of my revulsion must have communicated itself to my mount because it shied nervously and flapped its feeding arms. It took me a moment to bring it under control again.

'Why unnatural?' Garis asked. 'You are judging Kardis by Tyranian laws, but such rules are meaningless to us. To be able to reinforce sibling love with sexual love is considered a blessing among the Magor.'

I was silent, unable to find the words to convince him how wrong he was.

'Derya, Temellin said I could explain to you anything to do with our customs or history, as long as I don't tell you about how Magor powers work for us. You tell me what you don't know, and I'll try to explain so you can understand us better.'

Wary, I thought: Even Temellin has his reservations… there are some things he doesn't want me to know yet. Be careful, Ligea. The Mirager is no fool. Aloud I said, 'Anything you tell me will be new. Perhaps – tell me why Temellin is the Mirager. What makes a Mirager?'

'His birth. The eldest child of the Mirager becomes the next Mirager or Miragerin when the Mirager dies. If there is no child, then it goes to the next in line, male or female. Temellin has been Mirager since he was a child, when the last Mirager, his uncle Solad, died during the Tyranian invasion. Naturally, a new Mirager has to be of the Magoroth.'

'What happened to Temellin's parents?'

'The same thing that happened to all Magoroth adults during the invasion. They were killed. By a treachery we don't really understand. Did you know

the Tyranians like to call those times the "Kardi Uprising"? As if their invasion of our soil was legitimate, and our defence of it was illegal!'

'What happened?'

'Well, it started with several different invasions. The first was turned back at the Rift. It was followed by various skirmishes over the next couple of years or so, one of which killed the heir to the Mirager – Solad's only child. A cousin to both Temellin and Korden. But otherwise none of these small battles seemed particularly dangerous.' He frowned, angry emotion ripping through his barriers in a cresting wave, even as his ire broke through in his words. 'They were so stupid, our forebears, Derya! They were so sure of their powers that they failed to plan, failed to keep a proper watch on the coast, failed to train the ordinary Kardis as support troops and so on. Mirage be thanked, Temel has ten times the sense of his uncle, Mirager-solad. And he has learned by watching the legionnaires.

'Anyway, one night, at the height of the Shimmer Festival – that was our major yearly celebration in those days – someone led a small band of the enemy into the heart of the Pavilions in Madrinya. This was about, oh, twenty-five, twenty-six years ago now. The Magoroth were seated in the main hall for the Shimmer Feast, all of the Magoroth gathered from all over Kardiastan. Tyranian archers shot them down from the gallery. Every wearer of the gold cabochon over the age of ten was killed. Archers have a greater range than cabochon magic, you see.'

Damn it, I thought, Rathrox must have known this! Why in all Acheron's layers of hell didn't he tell me?

But no matter how hard I tried to think of a jrational reason, none came to mind. Rathrox had

always been secretive, but to send an agent out into the field with inadequate knowledge was foolhardy, and Rathrox was no fool. He'd done it deliberately… why? So that I'd fail? Be caught? Killed? Or did he think I'd succeed anyway, and the reason he hadn't told me had something to do with my past history?

Garis hadn't noticed my abstraction, and was still telling the story of the Shimmer Festival feast. 'And none of the Magor were armed with weapons: it was customary not to bring weapons into the feasting hall. With the Magoroth dead, including the Mirager, Solad that is, the Exaltarchy was able to claim the land as theirs.'

'And the younger Magoroth children?'

He counted them off on his fingers. 'Pinar, Temellin, Korden, Miasa, Jessah, Jahan, Selwith, Berrin, Markess and Gretha. Ten of them. They were all somewhere between three and ten years old. They had been sent to the Mirage just before the Festival – on, well, training I suppose you could call it. They went with their Theuros and Illusos teachers. It's strange they were away at the time of the Festival, and in retrospect no one can understand why Mirager-solad sent them. Some people think he must have had a premonition. Anyway, it saved their lives. And mine too, perhaps, because I am the son of two of those teachers, although I was born much later.

'Those wearers of the gold under three years old didn't escape the massacres. They weren't old enough to be sent away, so they were all in the palace for the festivities. They were killed in the nurseries by the legionnaires. They slaughtered all the babies, Derya. Every one.' His rage whirled around him, unrestrained. 'Someone betrayed those who attended the Festival. We have never found out who. It has

always seemed unbelievable, because the betrayer must have been one of the Magoroth. Only a Magoroth could have raised a ward around the feasting hall strong enough to hide the approach of legionnaires, only a Magoroth could have removed it to allow them entry.' He shook his head in a mix of distress and rage. T don't suppose we'll ever find out who now. By the time the legionnaires had finished, all the Magoroth in the Pavilions were dead.'

'What's a ward?' I asked.

'A kind of magical barrier. An invisible wall that can stop people, or even Magoroth power, from passing through.'

He stopped, obviously wondering if he'd said too much, so I changed the subject.

'Did any of the lower-ranking Magor – the Illusos and the Theuros – did they escape?'

'Oh, yes. Most of them. Most weren't at the feast. But they don't have Magoroth powers. They tried to resist Tyrans, but they weren't powerful enough. Sporadic fighting occurred for years, but once the tradeways were built and the legions could ride from one end of the land to the other in a matter of days, there was little hope. Worse still, until Temellin grew up a bit, no newborn Magor children received their cabochons. Oh. Um, I guess I can't explain about that just now, though.

'Gradually the lower-ranking Magor gave up the fight and came to the Mirage for safety and to offer their services to teach the Magoroth all they knew. We have been trying to strengthen ourselves ever since, to make our powers even greater than those of our parents, until the time when we are strong enough to sweep the legions into the sea. For some time there have been those who have thought we have sufficient

power, but Temellin still won't allow a full-scale insurgency. He says we have to ensure the next generation first, in case we are killed.'