Труди Канаван - The Magician’s Apprentice

Dakon watched as the king, Sabin and the Dem discussed their options. We could stay here and wait until someone comes out. We could all go in. Or one of us could go in wearing a blood ring, and communicate if the way is safe.

Sabin turned to scan the faces around him. Looking for a volunteer. Should I? Why not? If Tessia and Jayan are dead, who needs me? My Residence is gone and it’s clear I am of no use as a protector to the people of my ley, who are going to recover their lives quite well without me. He opened his mouth.

“I’ll go,” Narvelan said. “I already have a ring, anyway.” Dakon watched as the magician strode up to the gates and disappeared inside. Long, silent minutes passed. Then Sabin chuckled.

“The way is clear. He’s read a few minds. The emperor has ordered that no obstruction or trap be put in our way.” He turned to look at the servant and the carts. “Even so, I think half of us should stay outside to protect the servants, and be ready to fight if this does turn into a battle.”

More time passed as the arrangements were made. Then finally they were ready. Sabin gave the order, and Dakon walked, with forty other magicians, into Sachaka’s Imperial Palace.

CHAPTER 48

Hanara had been in the middle of a nightmare when the guard slave came to get him, and now, as he was dragged, pushed and shoved through increasingly wider and more opulently decorated corridors, he was not entirely sure if he was truly awake or still caught in the dream. He’d travelled this route many times in his sleep, after all.

There was a lack of strangeness in this journey that told him he was back in the waking world. No monsters lurking in side corridors or rooms full of tortured slaves. No Takado rushing out to rescue him. No Kyralians.

But Takado is sure to feature in this version, at least , he thought. Unless the emperor wants to read my mind again. Or someone else does...

He did not recognise the corridors from the previous journey. They had been narrower than these, and far less populated. Slaves hovered around doors or hurried back and forth. Many wore similar trousers, in a yellow fabric finer than any Hanara had seen on a slave before. They all looked fearful and harried.

A large crowd of slaves hovered round one particular door. Hanara felt his stomach flip over as he realised the guard was taking him towards them. The slaves were frowning, some wringing their hands, and he could hear a frantic, rapid chatter.

They fell silent, however, as the guard pushed Hanara through them to the door. A slave standing next to the door eyed Hanara, then smiled grimly as he looked at the guard.

“Just in time,” he said, then turned to open the door.

Pushed through, Hanara found himself at the side of a huge, narrow room filled with columns. Before him, in the centre, was a large and spectacular throne. The emperor was looking at him, his nose wrinkled with disgust. Hanara threw himself to the floor.

“Get up,” the guard whispered, and Hanara felt a toe jab his leg. He rose slowly, looking towards the emperor. The man had turned away, his attention now somewhere down the long room. Hanara stared down between the columns, but the space was empty. Then he noticed something on the floor.

A man. A naked man lying on his back, covered in cuts and bruises. Hanara looked closer and saw the chest rise and fall. He saw a faint movement and looked at the face. The eyes were open.

And recognition rushed over Hanara like a hot burst of steam.

Takado!

A terrible pity and sorrow rose up to grip his heart. With it came dread. If Takado dies today, what will happen to me? Will I die, too?

Something slammed at the end of the room, making Hanara jump. Footsteps filled the room. Lots of footsteps. Faint but growing louder. He found himself leaning forward to get a better view between the columns, and felt the guard jerk his arm to pull him back.

When the white-faced men marched into sight the room seemed to grow cold.

They made it , he thought. They got through the city and into the Imperial Palace. After all that Takado did to them, they fought back and then kept coming, all the way to Arvice. All the way to here.

He couldn’t help admiring them for that. The barbarian race of Kyralia had come a long way.

Hanara recognised King Errik and the face of the magician at his right. An Elyne stood on the king’s other side. The other men around the king were also familiar from battles. One face jolted him with recognition. The face of the man who had given him freedom and a job. Lord Dakon.

The magician hadn’t seen him. His eyes were on Takado. His expression shifted from horror to anger and back again.

King Errik slowed to a stop several strides from Takado, his eyes moving from the supine man to the emperor. He waited until the rest of his army of magicians stopped and quietened before he spoke.

“Emperor Vochira. This is a strange way to meet a conqueror.”

The emperor smiled. “Does it please you, King Errik?”

The king eyed Takado, his lip curling with hatred and disgust. “He is alive. You expect that to please me?”

“Alive and helpless, near all his strength taken from him. A gift to you, or perhaps a bribe. Or a trade.”

“For what?”

The emperor rose, slowly and gracefully, and stepped down from the throne. “For the lives of my people – at least those whom you haven’t yet taken. For the lives of my family. For my own life, too, perhaps.”

The hoarse, rasping sound of laughing drifted up from the floor, sending a shiver down Hanara’s spine.

“Who is the traitor now?” Takado coughed. “Coward.”

Emperor and king looked at the supine man, and then back at each other.

“Why should I let you live?” the king asked.

“You know I did not initiate the invasion of your country. If your spies did their job well, you should also know that I tried to stop it.”

“But you did endorse it, eventually.”

“Yes. It was a necessary deception. The army I sent was meant to split in three, two parts held in reserve to overcome this...” the emperor sneered down at Takado, “this ichani rebel when he was at his weakest.”

“It looked, to me, as if your intention was to take over at that point, and claim victory for yourself,” the king said.

From Takado came a weak cry of triumph. “See?” he rasped. “Even the barbarian king sees through you!”

“Yet you didn’t,” the emperor reminded him. He looked at the king. “Would you prefer I kill him, or that you do it yourself?” He smiled. “As no doubt you will have your magicians do now?”

The eyes of the king became cold and hard. Then his mouth curled into a smile.

“A foolish ruler bases his rule on magic alone.” His hand moved to his waist and slipped inside the long-sleeved tunic he wore, then came out gripping a long, straight blade. “A wise one bases it on loyalty and duty. And rewards those, magician or not, who serve him well in whichever way suits them best.” He glanced over his shoulder. “All of them have earned my loyalty and gratitude, so I find it impossible to choose who should have this reward.” He turned back to face the emperor.

The king took the blade of the knife between his fingers and held it up to one side. “Whoever takes the blade may make the kill.”

Hanara saw the magicians behind the king hesitate and exchange glances. A tall young magician stepped forward, then hesitated as another followed suit. The young magician turned to stare at the second man in surprise. Hanara’s heart skipped as he saw the other was Lord Dakon. The older magician’s face was dark with unreadable emotions. He stared at the younger man, who bowed his head and stepped back again.