Miathan gasped. “You did that?”
Nervously, Aurian nodded. “I—I hope I did it right,” she faltered.
“Right? My dear girl, Eliseth has been trying for days to accomplish what you have done! Most impressive. Most impressive, indeed. But as for the rest, you must learn not to act without thinking. Our people needed that food.”
As Miathan’s brows began to knit once more into a frown, Vannor spoke up again. “Don’t worry on that score, Archmage. Commander Forral has organized foraging parties, and food will start coming into the city tomorrow. You’ve my word that your food will be replaced as a matter of priority. Don’t be angry with the Lady Aurian—she acted from the best of motives.”
“I’ll support that,” Forral added. “She prevented great loss of life today.”
Miathan, seeing that he was outnumbered, shrugged, and managed a grimace that might have passed as a smile. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “It seems I must concede—this time.” Turning on his heel, he left. Aurian, guilty about her part in his rout and anxious to know if he had really forgiven her, almost ran after him, there and then. Almost.
“Phew,” Vannor said. “That was nasty! Aurian, you’re a hero. You’ve saved our bacon again.”
Glowing at the compliment, Aurian took a long swig of ale to dispel her shakiness Forral was here, after all, and she was supposed to be on holiday.
“By the Gods, lass, that was the bravest thing you’ve done all day!” the swordsman told her, his face glowing with approval. Maya caught her eye and smiled. Aurian knew, in that moment, that the seeds of friendship had been sown between herself and this small, dark-haired warrior, and the thought pleased her inordinately. She’d never really had a woman friend before. Smiling shyly back at Maya in acknowledgment of the wordless understanding between them, Aurian decided that nothing, not even the Archmage, was going to part her from these new and special companions.
It was long past nightfall when Vannor rode back toward his home. Though Aurian’s rain was still coming down in sheets and he was soaked to the very bone, the merchant was smiling to himself as he crossed the white bridge near the Academy and headed up the tree-lined, lamplit lane toward his mansion on the southern riverbank. For the first time in over a year, since the death of his beloved wife, Vannor felt at peace with himself. He was delighted, of course, that he’d achieved such a good understanding with the new Garrison Commander. And having one of the Magefolk on his side, for once, boded well for the future. And what a brave, delightful lass she was, at that. But the true cause of the merchant’s quiet joy was Sara, the girl he had rescued from the riot.
During his meeting with the other leaders, Vannor had left the girl in the care of the innkeeper’s wife. When he saw her again, she had been fed, and had her bruises tended. The innkeeper’s lady had loaned her a gown to replace her ruined clothing, and her hair had been newly washed and combed. The merchant had been amazed by the transformation. He had stood, agape like the rawest apprentice lad, in appreciation of her fragile, ethereal beauty. Gods, but she had reminded him of his own dear, lost, lovely wife!
Now, Vannor was returning from taking her home to her worried family. His heart beat faster at the memory of her slender form perched before him on his saddle, his arms clasped tightly around her waist. It would be a while before he could see her again, to be sure, with so moch to settle in Nexis after the drought—he’d have his work cut out for him in the coming days—but afterward . . . His children needed a mother again, Vannor assured himself, shrugging aside the uncomfortable thought that Sara could not be much older than his eldest daughter. Where love was concerned, age was never a problem! Her family had clearly been impressed by their daughter’s new friend, and Sara herself had hardly been discouraging . . .
As he rode up the curving, graveled drive of his mansion, Vannor’s face split into a grin of pure joy. He knew where she lived now, and by all the Gods, once this crisis was over, he meant to see her again!
7
Death by Fire
With the coming of the rain, the threat of unrest in the city soon died away. Regular supplies of food, small at first but gradually increasing, began to trickle into Nexis as Parric’s bands of foragers warmed to their work, and the reluctant merchants (browbeaten into cooperation by Vannor) began to oversee the fair distribution of rations. At last the people of Nexis could eat again—though it was sheer, contrary human nature, perhaps, that led them to give the credit for the happy change in their circumstances to the young, fire-haired Mage who had brought the rain.
Word of Aurian’s actions had spread through Nexis like wildfire, and wherever she and Forral went, the young Mage was embarrassed to find she had gained many new admirers. Though the Magefolk, with their dramatic, finely sculpted appearance, could not be anonymous in a Mortal crowd, Aurian was stunned that time and again, people would recognize her. They picked her out to thank her, or, in the case of the crafters, pressed their finest wares on her as gifts. The last straw, however, was a woman who emerged from the crowd in a tightly packed market and handed her a grimy, bawling, and very wet baby that apparently she was supposed to kiss. Gods, it had been hard to extricate herself from that with good grace! Later, when Aurian complained about it to Forral over a much-needed flagon of ale, the swordsman shrugged. “Don’t worry, love,” he had said. “It’s only a nine days’ wonder. The excitement will soon die down. In the meantime, be glad that they’re grateful, for once, to the Magefolk. You’ve done your people a lot of good, and I hope Miathan appreciates it.”
In fact, Forral thought, Aurian had done the most good for the people of Nexis through her influence with Miathan, for her exchange with the Archmage seemed to have affected him for the better. To the surprise of the swordsman and the merchant, Miathan had backed them on the Council when the first of the farmers arrived in the city, complaining about a visit from Parric’s warriors. Miathan had sanctioned the foraging, and it had been the farmers’ fear of the Archmage that had allowed it to succeed. After that, word sped through the countryside as fast as it had flashed across the city, and the troops experienced little resistance. Miathan was happy for the Magefolk to take the credit given to Aurian for ending the drought, and Forral had been relieved that relations between the Mage and her mentor seemed to be back on a friendly footing.
Aurian soon found Forral to be right. The people of Nexis had their own lives to lead, and before very long she had ceased to be the victim of their embarrassing attentions. Freed from their unwelcome curiosity and her new notoriety, and with the Garrison prospering in Maya’s familiar, capable hands, she and Forral were soon free to resume their interrupted vacation.
After a while, their days settled into a pattern. Sometimes they would simply walk around the city and see the sights, and Aurian discovered a new fascination in hunting around the merchants’ booths, with their silks and velvets, their jewels and perfume and combs. Now that she was in Forral’s company, she suddenly found herself taking an unprecedented interest in her appearance. Though she considered the elaborate gowns that were currently in fashion among the city’s women too impractical for words, the landlord of the Fleet Deer was more than ready to direct her to the best dressmakers, and his wife, who considered herself an expert in taste and style, was happy to advise her. The gray Mages’ robes that Aurian usually wore were soon consigned to the back of the closet in favor of bright, well-cut new garments, and she “was^ staggered by her own transformation. Forral was very tolerant. “You spend what you like,” he said, grinning. “The Archmage is paying for it, after all.”