The Fire Mages (28 page)

“The risk is too high...” Krayfon began, but Cal held up a hand.

“If I might make a point of law, Highness?” The Drashon nodded him to continue. “There have always been wild mages, and the law was written to allow for them to be properly trained as soon as they are identified. The current interpretation of the Regulation of Arcane Acts Statute is quite recent, and that entire subsection, relating to uncontrolled use of magic, was intended to apply only as a last resort, to those unable or unwilling to submit to training. Kyra is not to blame because the Gods gifted her with an unusual talent. We are surely not so uncivilised that we need to kill anyone different from the norm?”

“Highness...” Krayfon began, but this time it was the Drashon who waved a hand to silence him.

“Is this true, Krayfon? That these wild mages, like Kyra and Axandrei, were once trained to usefulness?” He made it sound as if we were no more than oxen, to be put to the plough. Still, perhaps the law could convince him?

Krayfon chewed his lip. “It
is
true, but...”

“Then why was this not considered here? And that boy from the coast seven years ago? That was a dreadful business – his distraught mother! She brought him here to us because she thought you mages would help him. Instead, I ordered him killed and had to tell her there was no alternative. Did you make a liar of me? Execution – it has to be the
last
resort, Krayfon, not the first. Yet you would have me execute Kyra here, and perhaps that boy my poor daughter thinks she loves. Tell me why, and the real reason, mind you, none of your clever obfuscation.”

Krayfon was silent for a long time. Then he sighed and pulled over a chair to sit beside the Drashon.

“It is difficult. A child, perhaps, if spotted in time... but history tells us that such people find it difficult to adapt to the necessary discipline. They are too unpredictable. And they are not needed. You already have mages when magic is called for, Rannassor.”

“These are good points,” the Drashon said before Cal or I could comment. “But Kyra, at least, has already adapted to the discipline of the scribery, and as for Axandrei...” He raised one shoulder. “I daresay Yannassia can keep him in line. He will not ruffle feathers, I think. The second point – Tell me, Kyra, what can you do for me that my mages cannot.”

“This,” I said, igniting a glowball in one hand. Krayfon’s eyes widened, but the Drashon laughed.

“A nice little trick,” he said. “I have seen fire-eaters at the river festivals, they can do such things with ease.”

I was tempted to scorch the hair off his head for his condescension, but I breathed deeply and cooled my anger, letting flames ripples across my fingertips, gradually increasing the size of them. “Can you do this, Lord Mage?”

“No.” He was honest, anyway. “And the vine that you made grow – I know of no spell to do that, not so quickly.”

“What about this?” I said, changing the Drashon’s wine goblet to glass in his hand. He was so startled that he dropped it. I instantly changed it back to metal, and then changed the wine to water, to minimise the effects of the fall.

I heard Cal laughing behind me. “You can’t catch it before it hits the ground, then?”

“Oh – I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“This is all very well,” the Drashon said, “but I cannot see a use for such trickery.” He looked cross, unlike his usual placid self, and I saw him in a new light, just an elderly man dragged from his bed in the middle of the night. He was getting tired and petulant.

“Would you like someone who can reliably detect a lie?” I said.

“My mages can do that perfectly well.”

“Can they? The mages at Ardamurkan couldn’t.”

I could see by Krayfon’s face that I had scored a point, but he wasn’t going to concede my superiority easily. “Prove it,” he said.

“Tell me something and I’ll say whether it’s true or false.”

“Very well. I am thirty-seven.”

“False.”

“Forty-three.”

“False.”

“Forty-seven.”

“Oh – that’s true, although you don’t look that old.”

“Hmm. You could already know that. Or your mage friend could. Here is something you will not know. My brother has a horse called Sparkle.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “True, if strange.”

Krayfon’s lips quirked. “He was always a little odd. But that could be a lucky guess. Try this. My cousin has a drusse with only one hand and one eye.”

“That is almost true. The drusse part is a lie, but the rest is true.”

Krayfon’s intake of breath was audible. “Gods, Rannassor, she is very good. It is my cousin’s husband, her drusse has all his limbs and eyes.”

“You cannot do this, Krayfon?”

“I know of no mage who could say such a thing with any certainty. Truth-detection is a matter of intuition, and many mages – perhaps most – have no ability at all. For those who do, it is no more than a feeling. But you know for sure, Kyra.”

“Yes. Lies create those blue lights I told you about.”

“And your friend can see them too?”

For a moment I thought he meant Cal, and a wash of alarm ran through me – he knew about Cal’s extra power! But then I realised my mistake. “Drei, you mean? Yes, he can see them.”

Abruptly, the Drashon rose. “Very well. This I can certainly use. All the charges currently held against you will be suspended for now, Kyra. Your earlier conviction and penalty will be reviewed. Krayfon, you will examine Kyra and Axandrei to determine what they may be capable of, and devise a training program for them. You will report to me every ten-sun. Now, if you permit, my dear, I should like to return to my bed.”

After almost a ten-sun in hiding, living in fear, I was free again. We emerged from the Imperial City the noon after our midnight meeting, using the vegetable market door, and walked hand in hand through the streets, in constant fear of a hand on the shoulder or an alarm going up, but the Drashon had issued his orders and the gate guards bowed as we passed into the Keep. Cal went off to his room at the mages’ house, and I returned to the plush new apartment I shared with Drei in the Drashon’s tower.

I was nervous about it, though. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, but I had nowhere else to go and there was the baby’s future to consider. Until she was born, my life was bound up with Drei’s, whether I liked it or not. But would he want me back now that I’d revealed his secret? While the servants, silently masking their surprise at my abrupt arrival, found me clean clothes and prepared a washing tub, I paced about one of the sitting rooms anxiously.

I didn’t have long to wait. He tore into the apartment in a whirlwind of crashing doors and angry words, followed by the low murmur of servants’ voices. Then boots thumped on the bare floor as he stormed into the room.

“What the
fuck
have you done? You stupid little cow, you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? Now you’ve pulled me into this mess of yours, too.”

“
My
mess? Have you forgotten how this happened in the first place? If you hadn’t tried to play stupid games and locked me up, I wouldn’t have had to spell myself out of there.”

“You didn’t have to use magic! No one was hurting you, I’d have let you out eventually. But no, you were too impatient. Everything could be ruined, you do realise that, don’t you? You promised you’d keep me out of it, you
promised
.”

“And so I did, at the hearing, but afterwards I had to tell the Drashon everything...”

“No, you didn’t! You could have kept your fucking mouth shut and stayed out of sight.”

“I could hardly spend the rest of my life skulking in the Imperial City, Drei, not with a baby. I had to come out eventually, and this way is better for both of us, in the long run.”

“Better for you, maybe. You’re so selfish, Kyra. Gods, I wish you’d stayed there.”

A small silence. “So you won’t want me to renew my drusse contract?”

That shut him up. He wanted my baby, and the only way to get her was through a formal drusse contract.

Cal wasn’t very happy about handing the baby over to Drei. “You should think about this more carefully, Kyra,” he’d said as we lay wakefully in bed for our last night in the city. “Once you sign the contract, there’s no going back. You lose all claim to it. Her, I mean.”

“But what would I do otherwise? I don’t quite know what kind of training the mages will devise, or what I’ll be allowed to do afterwards, but at the very least, I’ll be a proper contract scribe again, so I can get a decent job. A baby doesn’t fit into that sort of life.”

I thought with a pang of Elissana, raising her child and working at the same time – if only I had an arrangement like that. But I didn’t. Everything was too uncertain for me to think about raising my own baby.

“But what if it’s mine? If
she’s
mine?”

“What if she is? She’ll still be Drei’s in law, nothing can change that. Besides, how will he know?
I
don’t know!”

“He might suspect, if she’s very fair skinned. He could be angry with you. Some men are very strange about that sort of thing.”

“He’s angry with me anyway. Look, we’ve done nothing wrong, broken no contract. It’s Drei’s fault we’re even in this situation, isn’t it? He was the one who switched my herbs.”

“He might not see it that way.”

I wasn’t to be dissuaded, and two suns after I returned, I became Drei’s drusse again, although this time with a pregnancy-only clause. Once the midwives had officially confirmed the baby’s existence I would be able to move out of the apartment, if I wished.

~~~~~

The mages’ examinations were less traumatic than I’d expected. I lay on a comfortable long chair while a succession of mages came and held my hand or placed palms on my forehead, and then uttered exclamations of surprise. I demonstrated several of my little tricks, as the Drashon called them, and one by one they tried to replicate them. They quickly discovered they couldn’t make fire, or grow plants, or change pewter goblets to glass. One time I created the goblets out of nothing, and when they asked, I also managed to levitate small objects, but it drained me of much of my energy.

They were fascinated by my spellpages, both the sleep spell and the more complicated affairs which had brought the Drashon and Krayfon to the Imperial Library.

“These variances here,” Krayfon said, “this is fourth year work, well beyond a contract scribe.”

“I studied at that level for two moons,” I said. “I had plenty of time to learn all the variances for that year. And the fifth year is mostly just combinations.”

“Which you seem to have a good grasp of already.” His eyes twinkled at me.

“It’s surprising what interesting books you can find in the booksellers’ back rooms,” I murmured.

For detecting lies, they set up a properly regulated test. I sat with four mages, thought to be the best, at a table with paper and pens. One by one, a number of guards were brought in, people none of us would know, and made a series of statements and we all had to write down whether they were telling the truth or not. I got them all right, but the mages got many wrong. They were just guessing, really. They also couldn’t distinguish a lie buried in a number of truths, which I could do perfectly well.

Fortunately, this phase only lasted a moon or so, while the mages assessed me and decided on a training program. I assume they ran much the same tests on Drei, but I didn’t cross paths with him at all at the mages’ house and he never told me what he was doing. At the end of it, I was called before the Mages’ Forum, to hear their verdict. I was reasonably confident by this time that I was safe from the worst threat. Although many of the mages disapproved of me quite thoroughly, enough were intrigued with the possibilities to guarantee my survival. Besides, if they executed me, they would have to execute Drei too, and it was clear from various overheard comments that this was not an option, the Drashon would not allow it. The only question in my mind was what exactly they would allow me to do. Would I be able to go back to the scribery to try to become a law scribe, or would they keep me at Kingswell performing tricks for visiting dignitaries, like a trained dog?

The Forum took place in the mages’ house, on the topmost floor, a modestly proportioned room with only one narrow window. All the Keep rooms were square, but the mages liked everything round like the scriberies, so all their formal rooms had the corners filled in to make an octagonal shape, each side fitted with plain wooden panelling. Krayfon presided and so took the throne-like chair at the centre of the room, with his two deputies on either side of him. I sat alone opposite them. The remaining mages sat around us in a big circle, looking like so many shop-wives in their colourful gowns, a different colour for each town, for some had come from Callamorn or Yannitore or even further afield to take a look at me and hear the outcome of my examination. Cal was the only one in brown for Ardamurkan, however.

I’d expected a lot of formality and ritual, but I was quite wrong about that. There was a constant burble of comment from the audience, and many of them smiled encouragingly at me, or patted me on hand or shoulder as they took their places. There were a few who glowered threateningly, though, sitting with arms folded and chins jutting in an intimidating manner.

When all were settled, Krayfon smiled at me. “Well, Kyra, your examination was quite satisfactory. We have decided that you are not after all a threat to the stability of the realm.” There was a ripple of laughter around the room, so presumably that was his idea of a joke. “The archivists have looked up all the histories, and we have agreed that it would be most appropriate for you to be designated as a Fire Mage. What do you think about that, hmm?”

I couldn’t answer him. I don’t believe I could have strung together a coherent sentence at that point. A
Fire
Mage? Me? What did that even mean?

“I see you are surprised,” he said. Surprised – a mild word for what I was feeling. Utterly astonished, maybe. “You understand, I suppose, that we cannot use any of the usual titles, since you do not meet the requirements laid down by the regulations...” I’m not noble-born, he meant, of course. “But we all think that Fire Mage is very appropriate, given your particular talents.”

“You’re going to make me a mage?” I breathed. It was a stupid thing to say, but I couldn’t get my head round it. A moon ago they were ready to execute me, now they were making me a mage.

“Yes. You have no objection to the mark, I take it?” He touched one finger to his forehead. The tattoo! I would be a marked mage. It was unbelievable. “Something red, perhaps – flames or some such. And the robes, edged in red, you see.”

“Um – no objection,” I mumbled. Was I dreaming? Maybe I would wake up back in the city, still on the run.

“There is still much to learn about your particular abilities, so we wish you to have a mentor, someone to help you learn, guide you, you know. We thought Lord Mage Cal of Ardamurkan might be acceptable to you?”

A bubble of pleasure at that prospect. “Oh yes. But – I’m to be a mage, even though I’m not a law scribe?”

“Indeed. Is that a problem?”

“No. Oh no. But – may I still learn? About the law, I mean? Perhaps qualify as a law scribe eventually?”

There was a murmur of approval amongst the mages.

“Oh, certainly. That would be most advantageous. Excellent idea. We have no scribery here, of course, no formal lessons you could join, but at that level it is not necessary. Your mentor will help you plan your studies. You may expect, also, that the Drashon will require your services from time to time.”

No escaping the performing dog, then. “Of course. I understand.”

Then, abruptly, a more sinister tone. “You must remember, Kyra, that all of this is experimental. Any unfortunate occurrences will lead to an immediate review of the situation. Is that clear?”

I nodded, all my confidence blown to the winds. But within three heartbeats my spirits rose again. I was going to be a mage.

~~~~~

I was dizzy with joy. At last I was getting everything I’d ever wanted. Well, to be perfectly truthful, I’d never exactly dreamed of being a mage, but I would finally be a law scribe and be allowed to practise magic to its fullest extent. I was ecstatic.

A few suns later I was given a neat little tattoo on my forehead, a tiny red flame, which was surprisingly painful for the few heartbeats before my healing stepped in, and an array of very fetching robes for all occasions. Drei’s tattoo was rather more ostentatious, incorporating some family symbol as well as the flame, but also in red. I have to say that we looked very stylish together.

There was lengthy and heated discussion about names. Usually mages went through a ceremony to renounce their noble status and entitlements and adopt a new name for themselves, but I had nothing to renounce and Drei argued vehemently that he had never chosen to be a mage and under no circumstances was he surrendering his rank. Well, you could see his point. After securing such a spectacular marriage partner, he was hardly likely to give up his new status without a fight. Eventually, after the Drashon himself intervened, the mages grumblingly agreed that it was all very irregular but since we weren’t
proper
mages, an exception could be made. So Drei added Lord Mage Axandrei to his many other titles, and I became Lady Mage Kyra, and now the title was true and not a mere courtesy, or because I was a drusse.

I was thrilled that Cal was to guide me through the learning process. It seemed appropriate somehow after all we had gone through together, and I thought it was very complimentary that the mages trusted him with my development. He shrugged off that idea.

“They don’t know what to do with me now. They still think I have just my broken vessel to work with, so this is a sop to my self-esteem, to give me some other job to do. After all, to them I’m not a proper mage anymore.” He grinned wickedly, delighting in the secret power of the jade belt.

Having been left on my own for many moons, with only my own curiosity to guide me, now every hour had its allotted tasks. Cal devised a program of lessons for me, covering magic and the law, all the details I would have been taught at the scribery. The magic I found easy, but I struggled with the legal complexities. This was a long way beyond simple contracts. Cal found me all the right books, and – oh joy! – I now had unrestricted access to the mages’ own library. From time to time, one or other of the mages set me tests to measure my progress, and although they grunted and huffed and fussed about the irregularity of it, I meekly did whatever they asked and they were forced to admit that I met their standards.

It amused me to find that Cal was a conscientious mentor, devoting many hours each sun to my teaching.

“You weren’t so interested in my progress when you were my patron at Ardamurkan,” I said teasingly.

“I explained my reasons for that,” he snapped. “I wanted you to hate me – or at least dislike me, so you wouldn’t fall in love with me at the renewal. And it worked, didn’t it?”