Drat him, Zanna seethed. He doesn’t believe I can do it! Still, Yanis had only just decided not to take her back to Vannor —she wouldn’t risk a quarrel now. Zanna turned away from him angrily. “I ought to get back to Antor,” she said mildly— but really, it was an excuse to go below and do some hard thinking. I’ll show him, she thought. Just wait. He may not know it, but he needs my brain. I can make a place for myself among these smugglers, I know I can. I’ll make them respect me if it’s the last thing I do!
13
A Solstice Gift
Aurian leaned back in her chair and took another pull at her flagon of ale. “I’m still astonished that Miathan has accepted the fact that you and I are lovers—especially after—” She stopped abruptly, biting her lip. She had never dared to tell Forral about Miathan’s attack on her. “If he was only pretending to approve, I think the facade would have slipped by now, but after almost four months . . .” She shrugged. “Admittedly I haven’t see much of him lately—he’s busy with some pet project of his own—but when I do, he’s as kindly as ever. And the way he turns a blind eye to you sleeping at the Academy with me, and defends us from the other Magefolk—” She broke off with a sigh.
“This unpleasantness with Meiriel is still bothering you, isn’t it?” Forral prompted.
“I can’t help it, Forral. I don’t mind about the others— Eliseth and Bragan were always rotten to the core, not to mention Davorshan—but Meiriel ... I would never have believed she could be so prejudiced! She had even refused to teach me any more until Miathan intervened and made her continue my lessons. It’s awful to lose a friend like this, but not even Finbarr can talk her round.”
“Never mind, love.” Forral covered her hand with his own. “If she wants to be like that, there’s notning we can do about it. If she had been any sort of friend in the first place, she would be glad for you.”
“That’s what Anvar said.” Aurian managed a smile. “He’s come a long way from that terrified creature we rescued last Solstice. You must admit, I was right about him.”
“You were indeed, and I’m glad. He turned out to be a good lad, Aurian, despite what Miathan said about him.”
“I wonder about that.” Aurian frowned. “He does a mar-velous job of looking after me, but he rarely smiles, and he’s still terrified of the Archmage, although he won’t tell me why. What’s more, he won’t talk about his past, his family—anything. I’d like to help.him—he always looks so unhappy—but how can I if he won’t trust me?” She glowered into her beer. “Gods, how I hate mysteries.”
It was Solstice Eve, and the two of them had started the seasonal celebrations early with a visit to the Invisible Unicorn. Conveniently close to the Garrison, the tavern was the favorite haunt of the off-duty troopers. The long, low taproom was shabby but homely with its ceiling of sturdy, lamp-hung beams and huge arched fireplace of red brick that always housed a welcoming blaze. The once white walls were mellowed by a patina of smoke, and the floor was covered with a thick layer of sawdust to soak up spilled ale and the blood from the occasional rowdy brawls that were overlooked—usually—by the tolerant landlord. The company was good, and the beer was excellent. It was one of Aurian’s favorite places, but tonight she had too much on her mind to be able to relax and enjoy herself.
Forral reached over and topped up their beer from the big pewter jug on the table. “You can’t really blame the lad, you know. It must be terrible to be a bondservant, even with the kindest of mistresses. He’s lost his family and future—and supposing he had a girl before? What would have happened to her? Gods, this bonding is barbaric!”
It was a sore point with Forral, one over which he had clashed repeatedly but unsuccessfully with the other Council members, especially the Archmage, during the past year. “But if Anvar won’t confide in you, what can you do?” he added, “After rescuing him the way you did, I find it odd that he won’t trust you, at least.” The swordsman frowned. “You’re right, though—it’s strange how Miathan hates him. The other servants are beneath his notice.” Seeing Aurian’s gloomy face, he sought to lighten her mood. “Don’t worry about it now, love. It’s Solstice Eve, and we should be enjoying ourselves, I’ll tell you what—why don’t I take Anvar out with me tonight while you’re at the Mages’ Feast? I wish you didn’t have to go to the damned thing, but we’ll have our own celebration later. And it might cheer that poor lad of yours up to get out with me and the troops.”
Aurian brightened. “That’s a kind thought, Forral. I’ll tell Elewin when I go back to the Academy. There are always enough servants in attendance at the Feast, so Anvar won’t be missed. I wish I could come with you, but I daren’t risk upsetting Miathan—not when we’re on such shaky ground with the Magefolk. Anyway, Finbarr and I have a plan to cheer up D’arvan tonight—he could use the company. He’s had a rough time of it this year, what with his brother joining Eliseth’s clique—and there is still no sign of his powers surfacing, and Miathan is looking on him with greater disapproval every day. I suspect that Eliseth is trying to persuade the Archmage to get rid of him, so that she can have Davorshan to herself. It’s a blessing that D’arvan has made some friends at the Garrison— Maya, especially—but at the Academy he’s becoming increasingly isolated. I do feel sorry for him.”
“More good deeds, eh?” Forral chuckled, but she saw the gleam of pride in his eyes, and knew that he approved,
“Well, it is the season of goodwill and all that,” Aurian made a face. “I think I had better start fortifying myself. Is there any of that beer left?”
Anvar sat alone on his bunk in the servants’ dormitory, playing a mournful air on the little wooden flute that his grandfather had carved for him so long ago. It was the only one of his instruments that he’d been able to bring with him to the Academy, and oh, how he missed them! Elewin, at the Lady Aurian’s request, had excused him from serving at the Feast, and while he appreciated her kindness in giving him the holiday, what was the point? He had nowhere to go. As usual, at this time of year, his thoughts were with the loved ones he had lost-Grandpa and his mother—and Safa.^who was equally lost to him now. Trying unsuccessfully to put them out of his mind, Anvar played on, merging his loneliness with the achingly sad notes of Grandpa’s flute.
Suddenly the door was flung open, and Commander Forral stood there. “There you are!” he said, “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing here all alone, lad? Aurian has to attend the Feast tonight, so we thought you might fancy keeping me company while I have a few beers with the lads and lasses from the Garrison.”
He tugged the astonished Anvar to his feet, barely giving him time to snatch his cloak from its peg on the wall. Its threadbare appearance stopped Forral in his tracks. “What’s this?” he said, frowning^ “You can’t go out in that dishrag, lad.
It’s snowing! Here—” He unclasped his own thick, weatherproof soldier’s cloak and draped it round Anvar’s shoulders, kicking the offending old garment under the bunk. “That’s better. It suits you too, us being about the same height and all. I know—you keep it. A Solstice gift, for looking after Aurian so well. I’ve a spare in her room, so we’ll just go and get it, then we can be off.”
Anvar was overwhelmed. This was his second Solstice at the Academy, and in all that time, no one had ever given him a gift. Swallowing hard, he tried to stammer his thanks, and Forral clapped him on the shoulder in a comradely fashion.
“Not at all, lad. You deserve it. Now let’s get off to the tavern. There’s good ale just begging to be appreciated, and it’s our duty to do our share!”
Anvar had a wonderful time at the Invisible Unicorn. The troops from the Garrison were full of Solstice cheer, and the talk and laughter and ale flowed in equal quantities. Then someone discovered that Anvar could sing, and a battered old guitar was borrowed from its usual decorative place on the wall, despite feeble protests from the long-suffering landlord. The pleasure of playing a real instrument soon overcame Anvar’s diffidence about performing, and the troops joined in with great enthusiasm. Soon the walls were ringing to the sound of rowdy, bawdy barrack-room ballads whose general subject matter and volume soon sent the tavern’s more sobersided customers scurrying for home. The4andlord, noticing the rate at which his ale kegs were emptying, had long ago ceased to object.