Труди Канаван - The Magician’s Apprentice

“Are you worrying about Kachiro again?” a voice said at her elbow.

Stara jumped and looked down. “Vora! You’re back!” The other women looked up and exclaimed, saving Stara from answering Vora’s question.

“Yes.” Vora moved into the circle of women. “And I have news.”

“Tell us,” one of the women murmured. All were gazing at Vora eagerly.

“The Kyralians have entered the city,” Vora confirmed, her expression grave.

“No!”

“But... how?”

“Are many dead?”

Vora raised her hands and they quietened. “A third of the defenders fell.” She looked at one of the women, her expression grave. “I am sorry, Atarca.” The woman hung her head and nodded, but said nothing. “The rest . . .” Vora continued. “When it was clear they would be overcome they retreated. Fortunately they’d planned for such a situation. They started attacking the Kyralians from hidden positions. I followed at a distance for an hour or so. When I knew they were getting close to the palace I came back here.” She stopped to take a deep breath. “I think we should leave the city while we can.”

The women stared at her in silence, then broke it with question after question.

“So the enemy has won?”

“Where will we go?

“Does Tavara think we should go?”

“What would happen if we stayed here?”

Stara felt a chill run down her spine, then another. The women were already in danger of being discovered and recognised by those people in the city they’d fled from in the first place. Now there was the possible threat of the invaders taking their revenge upon the people of Arvice. Without magicians to enforce laws there was the danger of attack from lawless free men taking advantage of the chaos, who would rape and rob them and later claim it was Kyralians. And slaves might stop working once there were no masters to order them about, and with nobody raising or delivering foodstuff Arvice would eventually starve.

We are probably safe here...so long as Kachiro returns. But what will the Kyralians do to the magicians who survive the battle? Even if they let him live, I doubt he could protect us from them . . .

So should they leave? It might reduce the dangers they faced discovery, and lawless free men or slaves. I should be able to fend them off with magic. But where can we go?

She thought of Elyne and her mother. But she had promised to help the Traitors, and she couldn’t take them there. Not when stories of the murder of Sachakan expatriates in Capia were circulating in Arvice. Hopefully nobody remembered that Mother was married to a Sachakan, and has decided that makes her Sachakan too. Kachiro had sent a message to Elyne hoping to find out her mother’s fate, but no reply had come.

“Many, many other Sachakans are leaving,” Vora told them. “There’s a line of carts and people on every road out of the city.”

“Where are they going?”

“Who knows?” Vora replied. “To stay with friends on country estates? Out of Sachaka entirely?”

“Have we got friends on country estates? Or will we go back to the Sanctuary?”

“The Sanctuary is too close to the road to and from Kyralia,” Nachira said. “If there was anywhere else, Tavara would have sent us there instead of bringing us back to the city.”

Vora nodded. “I’m afraid that is most likely true.” She paused. “Wherever we go, we will have to fend for ourselves for a while.”

“We are used to work,” the older woman stated.

“Not tilling fields or handling stock,” Vora reminded her. Then she smiled. “But I’m sure we’ll manage. Stopping other people from taking what we have will be harder.”

“Stara has magic. She can stop them.”

Stara felt her face warm as all the women turned to smile at her.

“She has only her own magic,” Vora warned them. “Magicians who have taken strength from slaves will be stronger than her.”

“Then why don’t we give her our strength?” Nachira said. The women fell silent as they exchanged questioning looks. Then they all nodded. “There,” Nachira continued. “Most magicians will have used up their power during the battle anyway. Stara will quickly end up stronger than them.”

The older woman frowned. “Better that they never know we have anything they want,” she said darkly. “Better we find somewhere to hide, out of sight.”

“Oh,” Stara said.

Somewhere to hide. Somewhere out of sight...

“Oh?” Vora repeated.

“I know of a place.” Stara felt her pulse quicken. “A place in the mountains. But I don’t know how to get there.” Her heart sank. I wonder. Could I follow Chavori’s maps? I’d have to get them first. She blinked as she realised she had risen to her feet. The women were looking at her expectantly. These amazing women. Adaptable. Strong. We’re going to do this. We’re going to leave and make our own Sanctuary. She turned to Vora.

“Can you get the wives?”

Vora’s eyebrows rose. “I can try.”

“Then try. Explain that we’re leaving and see if they want to come. I’m going out to get . . . something. While I’m gone, everyone,” she looked at the women, “pack as much as you can carry and put on travelling clothes. When I get back . . .” She paused to take a deep, calming breath. “When I get back we’ll leave Arvice. For the mountains.”

As the women scattered to collect their belongings, Stara hurried to her bedroom. She opened chests and searched for dark clothes. It would soon be night and she didn’t want to be seen. She heard footsteps behind her.

“I have sent a message to the wives,” Vora said, moving to another chest. “Are you planning what I think you’re planning?”

“What do you think I’m planning?”

“A little evening thievery. For which you’ll need to cover that Elyne skin of yours.” Vora took something from the chest and held it out. It was a dark green wrap, long enough to cover her legs. Stara took it and began to change.

“I’d say I was borrowing without permission, except I’d never convince you.” Grabbing a dark blue blanket woven by one of the women and given in thanks for her help, Stara wrapped it around her shoulders. She stuffed her feet into a pair of sandals and hurried out of the room, Vora following. “Are you coming with me?” she asked.

“Of course.”

Stara looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.”

The air outside was pleasantly warm, though it held the scent of smoke. The sun hovered near the horizon. Soon the city would be shrouded in a concealing darkness. Which will be the right time to slip away.

The courtyard was deserted. Stara wondered where the slaves had gone as she and Vora slipped out of the doors into the street. Keeping to the shadows cast by the city’s high walls, they hurried away. The slave’s darker skin and drab clothing made her even less noticeable than Stara in the dusky light.

An eerie silence was broken now and then by the sound of running feet, or wailing, or the passing of a cart. They reached a main road and suddenly the air was full of noise. People crowded the thoroughfare. Carts laden with belongings and people rattled past, all heading out of the city.

She and Vora had to weave their way across, dodging animals and people. On the other side they found themselves on empty streets again, though at one point doors opened and a stream of carts spilled out, heading towards the main road.

“Perhaps by night there will be less of a crowd,” she remarked aloud.

“I doubt it,” Vora murmured in reply.

Finally they reached the house Stara remembered from her one visit to her husband’s friend’s home. She’d been surprised to learn that Chavori lived in such a spectacular house. But it turned out that the house belonged to his father, and Chavori lived in a single room located at the rear of the property, out of sight and reached most easily through a slave entrance. It indicated with painful clarity what his family thought of his dedication to drawing maps.