Lightly, he kissed the top of her head, and at his touch, Aurian’s heart give a dizzy lurch. A tingling heat swept through her body. Again. It happened now, whenever he was close to her. Oh, Forral! She’d loved him since she was a child, but after his return, the change in the quality of that love had left her baffled and thwarted. She had finally admitted to herself that she wanted more, now, than the affectionate comradeship they had always shared.
Aurian tightened her arms round his neck and looked up searchingly into his face, unable to hide her longing. As always, his eyes met hers for an agonizing instant, then flicked away. “Come on,” he said gruffly, stepping back from her. “Vannor’s coming this morning, remember? We’d better get cleaned up for that snooty wife of his.” Without looking at her, he walked away. Her throat tight with misery, Aurian retrieved her fallen sword and followed him out of the arena.
Vannor and his lady had arrived early, and were waiting in Forral’s rooms. Aurian felt a stab of annoyance as the elegant young woman wrinkled her nose fastidiously at the sight of her in her battle-scarred leather vest and breeches. Aurian had taken an intense dislike to Vannor’s new wife. The slender, blond young woman looked around Forral’s wood-paneled, workmanlike quarters with an air of distaste, as though disgusted to find herself in such a lowly place. Sourly, Aurian wondered how, since the girl was so much shorter than herself and Forral, she could still manage to look down her nose at the two of them. With her own feelings still stinging from Forral’s latest rebuff, she found the besotted look in Vannor’s eyes as he gazed at his wife very hard to take.
Aurian was fond of the blunt, straightforward merchant. Short and stocky, his beard and hair cropped very short, Vannor resembled exactly what he was—a former dockside tough made good. His rough voice was still edged with the gritty accent of the wharves, and he took no pains to alter it. But his hard exterior disguised a warm, generous heart. He plainly doted on Sara. She was magnificently clad in rich, fur-trimmed velvet, her hair done up in an elaborate knot, her fingers, wrists, and ears dripping with the jewels he had bought her. She looked flawlessly beautiful—except for her haughty expression, and the hard, calculating look that came into her eyes whenever she looked at her husband.
Vannor, as Head of the Merchants’ Guild, had planned this Solstice visit to the Garrison as a courtesy to the new Commander. The Archmage, the third member of the Ruling Council, was expected later. It was not a lively gathering. Though Vannor and Forral were good company as a rule, the normally bluff and hearty merchant seemed constrained by his wife’s presence, and Forral was unusually quiet, frowning more than he smiled. Aurian, nursing her heartache, was wondering if she should excuse herself and go back to the Academy, when there came a knock at the door. Forral went to answer it, and Aurian, relieved at the interruption, followed him into the outer chamber.
It was Parric, the Cavalrymaster, the leathery, balding little man was Duty Officer for the day, and his manner was apologetic, “Sorry to disturb you, Forral, but a miller along the river has caught a runaway bondservant. We’ve just brought him in.”
Forral sighed. Aurian knew that he loathed the practice of bonding, but unfortunately, he had been unable to influence the Council against it. The Archmage supported it, and Vannor was forced to bow to the wishes of the merchants that he represented, who increased their profits through not having to pay their bonded labor.
“For goodness’ sake, Parric!” Forral said testily. “Why bother me with this now? Just lock him up, and we’ll deal with him tomorrow, artetushf holiday.”
Parric looked uncomfortable. “Sir—I think you should see him. The poor sod’s in an awful state—beaten black and blue! Honestly, I don’t blame him for trying to run away. I wouldn’t treat a dog the way he’s been treated.”
Forral frowned. “Sorry, Parric—that’s different, of course. We had better look into it. I won’t have people getting away with that kind of abuse. Who is he bonded to?”
Parric hesitated. “Well, it’s a bit awkward, you see—”
“Come on, man, you’ve seen his mark! Stop maithering and tell me!”
The Cavalrymaster glanced uneasily at Aurian. “He’s bonded to the Academy.”
“What!” Aurian was stunned. “But he can’t be—”
“He is. And it’s a bloody disgrace, let me tell you.” Parric’s look was plainly accusing.
“Steady on, Parric,” Forral intervened, putting his arm around the indignant Mage. “Just bring him in, and we’ll get this straightened out.”
“He’s outside.” Parric beckoned through the open doorway, and two guards entered, supporting a limp, ragged form between them. The man stank. His clothing was tattered and filthy, and soaked through. He was shivering violently, and his skin had a bluish tinge. His face was swollen and covered in bruises,
Aurian was horrified. Who at the Academy had treated the poor man so badly? Suddenly his eyes opened—the most brilliant, piercing blue that Aurian had ever seen. They looked straight past her, and stretched wide in joyful astonishment,
“Sara!” the man gasped.
Aurian whirled to see Vannor’s wife standing in the inner doorway, her face deathly white. Drawing herself upright, Sara looked down on the runaway servant with icy contempt. “Who is this wretch?” she demanded coldly, “I never saw him before in my life!”
“But he knows your name,” Forral pointed out with a frown.
Sara shrugged. “I’m married to the most important merchant in the city. Lots of people know my name. Vannor, take me home. This revolting creature is making me ill!”
Vannor shrugged helplessly. “All right,” he said. “Forral, you’ll excuse us?” Taking his wife’s arm, he led her out.
As they passed the prisoner, he struggled free from the guards and fell at Sara’s feet, clutching at the hem of her gown. “Sara, please . . .” he begged.
With an exclamation of disgust, the woman twitched her skirts from his grasp and swept out of the door. Aurian closed her eyes against the naked hurt and betrayal on his face. Sara was lying, she was sure. The man buried his face in his hands, and began to sob. Aurian, galvanized by the tortured, hopeless weeping, dropped to her knees at his side, her heart aching for him.
“Poor man,” she said softly. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you. And whoever did this to you ...” Her voice grew fierce. “I’ll make sure it never happens again!”
Anvar looked up at the call, red-haired woman. He could tell from her appearance that she was a Mage, and recognized her as Forral’s companion when the swordsman had come to the shop, that day so long ago. Her eyes were flinty with anger. In his horror at Sara’s betrayal, he had failed to hear her comforting words, and thought her rage was directed at him. Anvar made a strangled sound of fear deep in his throat—then broke out into a sudden fit of sneezing. The Mage frowned, and fished in her pocket for a handkerchief, which she handed to him. No ladylike scrap of lace, this, but a large square of white linen that, judging from the oily smearr, locked as though it had last been used for cleaning a sword. As he blew, she placed a cool hand on Anvar’s brow. “Forral, he’s ill!” she said sharply. “Help me get him inside. Parric, fetch some broth from the mess hall. He looks half starved. Hurry!”
Anvar saw the two men look at each other and shrug, then he was hoisted up by Forral himself, and half carried into a snug inner room where a bright fire burned.
“Put him on the couch.”
Anvar wondered who she was, to be giving orders to the Garrison Commander. Imprisoned as he had been in the Academy kitchens, he had never come into contact with any of the Magefolk.
“But Aurian,” heXfiJthy,” Forral protested.
So this was the Lady Aurian, said to be the Archmage’s favorite! Anvar felt sick with fear. When he had been brought before Commander Forral, he had hoped to be able to plead his case. But now he was back in the hands of the Magefolk—and who knew what punishment the Archmage would have in store for him?