Труди Канаван - The Magician’s Apprentice

“I guess that’s it,” King Errik said, looking at Sabin. “Shall we go after them?”

Sabin shook his head, his voice too low to hear.

“So on to the Imperial Palace,” the king concluded.

Everran straightened, then looked down at the ring on his finger. “We’re to maintain shields. Keep alert and be ready in case of ambush.”

“I have no magic left,” Jayan told Everran quietly.

The magician nodded. “Ride in front and I’ll shield us both.”

Jayan nodded to show he understood. The army formed a protective ring around the servants then started forward, apprentices riding as close as possible to their masters.

Once again, they travelled in an eerie silence. The high white walls loomed over them, stark and threatening, and Jayan knew he would not be the only one worried about what they could be hiding.

“How are you doing?”

He turned to see Tessia riding beside him.

“Fine,” he said. “Other than having no magic left. How is Dakon?”

“Better than he expected.”

The army proceeded slowly and cautiously. The road stretched on, the white walls continuing towards hazy buildings in the distance. They crossed several intersecting roads, all deserted. At first there was the occasional shout as someone caught a glimpse of a face, an arm, or a human-like shadow above the walls, but eventually no further signs of life were seen – or else nobody bothered to draw attention to them any more.

The buildings in the distance grew larger and sharper. They gave a hint of impressive size and grandeur. Tessia wondered aloud if one was the Imperial Palace.

Then everything exploded in a rush of light and roar of sound.

There were shouts of surprise, and screams from both humans and horses. The wall beside Jayan bulged outwards, and he felt himself thrown sideways. As his mount toppled he fell with it. Something heavy landed on his leg as he hit the ground. He tried to pull free but could not. The horse lay still, either stunned or dead, pinning his leg under it.

Trapped under my own horse! he thought, amused at the situation he found himself in despite the deadly magic sizzling through the air around him. And with no magic to free myself with.

Smoke billowed out from beyond one of the broken walls. “Ride!” a voice bellowed, and was taken up by others. Hoofs rapped on the road. Carts rumbled by. Jayan felt hands grasp his shoulders. He looked up. Tessia frowned at him, then began pulling. After several heaves she managed to drag him out from under the horse. They collapsed, leaning up against an upturned cart.

The eerie quiet of the city had returned. Looking down the road, Jayan saw the rear of the army hurrying away.

Thin cheers rang out from the houses around them. Tessia turned to look at Jayan, her eyes wide. His heart was racing. Should we run? From behind the cart came voices.

“Did we get any of them?”

“Nah, just those over there, and I think they’re servants.”

“We’d better hurry then, or we’ll miss the next one.”

The sound of running followed, fading into silence. Tessia let out a long sigh of relief. They both got to their feet. Jayan tested his weight on the leg that had been stuck under his horse. It felt bruised, but wasn’t broken.

He peered around the cart. He had no magic and Tessia did not have enough to defend herself against a higher magician. If Sachakans were lurking behind the walls, waiting to ambush the Kyralian army, then an exhausted magician and an apprentice had no chance of catching up with the army alive. They would have to hide.

There were gaping holes in the walls around them. Behind one a house was burning, though not as much smoke was billowing out now. The closest gap was a few steps away – where the blast that had killed his horse had come from. Hopefully whoever had sent the strike had left to continue the fight elsewhere.

If he or she was still here, they’d have seen us already . “Let’s get out of sight,” he said.

Tessia followed as he dashed towards and through the gap, and then they both skidded to a halt.

Lush greenery surrounded them. Wide-leafed plants fanned out over paved pathways. Vines clung to a lattice roof. In the centre a large stone-edged pool brimmed with water.

“It’s beautiful,” Tessia whispered.

They exchanged a look of wonder, then moved further into the garden, moving as silently as they could. Jayan hoped that the owners of this place, and their slaves, were gone, or staying as far from the battle as possible. They found a small, sheltered alcove and slipped inside, then sat down to wait.

“What do we do now?” Tessia asked.

Jayan shrugged. “Wait.”

She nodded. “Do we wait until night, or until someone comes back for us?”

“Whatever comes first.”

CHAPTER 47

It seemed like years since Stara had been in a crowded room. Nine women sat around her, some chatting, some quietly listening. The youngest was only twelve, though far too wise and self-possessed for her age. The oldest was near Vora’s age, with more grey in her hair than the slave had, but an energy Stara envied. Stara suspected she would have found it hard to keep her entertained if it weren’t for the work the women had brought with them.

Since the Traitors treated all women as equals, free women had contributed in practical ways to the running of the Sanctuary. They were not given unpleasant or physically demanding tasks, however, as that would have been too great a shock to women who had never worked before. Instead they were taught skills like sewing and weaving, cooking and preserving foods. Though they’d fled the Sanctuary in a hurry, they’d each managed to pack tools for their work among the clothes and food they’d brought, and soon took up new projects when they arrived at Kachiro’s house.

Talking Kachiro into letting the women stay had been easy. She’d told him they were friends of his friends’ wives who had fled their estates in the country, and would leave when the Kyralians had been dealt with. Since his friends didn’t seem to know or care exactly how many friends their wives had, he had accepted the half-truth without question.

She’d had to gamble that he wouldn’t recognise Nachira, but he tended to avoid the women as much as possible and had barely spared her brother’s wife a glance. He was distracted by the news that the Kyralians were nearing the city, and often disappeared for hours to discuss plans with his friends.

Nachira had been distraught when she’d learned that Ikaro was probably dead. They’d wept together, Stara surprised at the extent of her own grief. She’d expected to have to soothe and reassure Nachira constantly, but the formally passive woman appeared to have gained some confidence now that she wasn’t under the constant threat of murder. The loss of her husband clearly hurt deeply, but she was alive and determined to stay that way.

Stara looked at her sister by marriage. What will I feel, if Kachiro doesn’t come back? He’d left a few hours before to join his friends, who were all determined to do what they could to defend the city. He said the Kyralians haven’t got a chance, but I can’t help worrying. After all, they wouldn’t have come here if they didn’t think they could defeat us. I hope he’s careful. He may not have been completely honest with me, but he’s not a bad man. Just a man surviving in an overly judgemental society. Like me – and I haven’t exactly been honest with him either.

She’d never been so tempted to tell him about her magical ability. If it weren’t for her obligation to protect the women, she’d have left with him to throw what little magic she had at the invaders. When loud booming and cracking noises had penetrated to the room it had taken all her willpower to stay seated. Slaves had reported that they’d heard fighting a few streets away, but it had moved on.