Enough, young Lord, Notole said at last, still laughing inside my mind. Save some adventures for another day. We’ve only begun.
Still excited, I left the Lords’ house and walked across the barren courtyard to my house. Lightning… I had called down lightning! I couldn’t wait to do it again. For the moment, I was so tired… I rubbed my eyes and stumbled a bit. The courtyard was very dark. When I stuck out my hand to catch my balance, I realized I was about to crash into the Gray House wall instead of walking through the gate. Squinting, I felt my way along the wall to the gateway. As I went inside, I looked back over my shoulder. The torches over the Lords’ gate were lit, only the fire wasn’t orange and bright. The flames looked like gray veils blowing in the wind.
My skin went cold. And when I thought of some of the things I’d done that day, my stomach felt queasy. I ran into my house, stumbling up the stairs and tripping on a footstool in my room, even though the lamps were lit. I screamed at my slaves to stop staring at me and draw me a bath. When I was alone, I held the mirror in the dim circle of light cast by my largest lamp. My hand was shaking so hard, I had to lay the mirror down and bend over it.
Almost my entire eye was black. Only a narrow rim of white surrounded the deep black holes, two bottomless wells boring right down into the depths of my soul.
CHAPTER 39
On the next morning, the sun rose gray and dim. I was going to have to tell the Lords. I wasn’t at all confident that eyesight would heal itself like bruises or twisted knees, and I certainly could not do any training the way I was. Notole, I called, I need to tell-
Good morning, young Lord. Before I could open my thoughts to them, Notole filled my head. Are you tired this morning? We went farther than I had planned in these past days-you are such a delightful student-so eager-and it can be quite wearing when one is starting to develop one’s talent as you are. You mustn’t be concerned about it.
“I was wondering-”
We’ve told your teachers that you need to rest today. Parven took up the conversation. Though his words were pleasant enough, anger rumbled in my belly as he spoke. I will put you to sleep, my young Lord, until such time as you can take up your proper business. My foolish sister has rushed things a bit.
They didn’t let me say anything. Parven laid an enchantment on me, while the three of them talked about other exercises they planned for the next few days. As I drowsed off, it occurred to me that none of them had mentioned anything about my eyes. I had a sense that they knew what was happening, but didn’t want me to know. Why else would they be in such a hurry to send me to sleep? As there were no mirrors anywhere in the Gray House, they wouldn’t think I’d seen it for myself, and no servant would dare speak of it.
At least a day had passed by the time I woke again. I was famished. Once I had eaten, I steeled myself to look in the mirror. Only a trace of gray remained in the brown. I decided that as long as my eyes would turn back right, they weren’t really damaged. I could still go to Notole and learn what she could teach. I needed to know about power and sorcery, so I could be strong enough to do whatever I wanted.
I worked hard at my sword training that day, enjoying moving and fighting after so many days of inactivity. Notole’s lessons were tiring, but as far as I knew my body didn’t move the whole time. Since I had returned from the desert and gotten so preoccupied with sorcery, my fighting skills had shown little improvement. If only I could use a little of my power… I tried making the air thick and heavy around my swordmaster’s blade.
You will not! Parven burst into my head. For now, true power and physical training are two separate aspects of your life, young Lord. You must be able to fight to your maximum capability with every weapon you possess.
“All right, all right.” And so I let the air go back to normal, and I slogged on, practicing one move after another. I trained with my swordmaster all day. Notole said she didn’t want me that night. I wasn’t surprised. The pattern said it would be six or seven days until we ventured out again. The thought of sorcery left me hollow inside, hungry, my skin buzzing like it did when you didn’t get enough sleep. To call down lightning…
That evening after my riding lesson, I took Firebreather for a gallop to help take my mind off of my craving for sorcery. It was near midnight when we got back to the stable, though this time we made the entire journey together. When I led Firebreather into his stall, I wasn’t too surprised to hear a voice from the corner. “Did he behave?”
“He expects oats.”
“Thought he would. I’ve brought some already.”
We rubbed Firebreather down and made sure he had an extra scoop of oats.
The Leiran boy kicked the straw into a pile in the corner of the stall and flopped onto it. “You’ve not been riding much lately.”
“I’ve had other things to do. Have you stayed out of trouble?”
“It came out all to the good. They think I’m a half-wit. Was it you who told ‘em?”
“I might have mentioned it.”
“You’re not the first to notice.” He grinned.
I patted Firebreather’s neck and gathered up my cloak and my pack to go. The Leiran boy glanced at my pack, and then looked away quickly.
“I’ve a packet of field rations in there,” I said. “You wouldn’t want it, would you?”
“If you were ever to run this place, I’d be happy to give you a word or two on improving the cooking.” I tossed him the greasy bag, and he laid back on the straw, groaning in pleasure as he chewed on a leathery strip of dried meat. “Blazes! You can promise Firebreather oats, but if you want to get me anywhere, promise me jack.”
“I don’t have any more tonight.” I rummaged through my bag and found a slightly battered darupe. “You can have this. That’s all I’ve got.”
“I’m not choosy.” He dispatched the fruit in half a heartbeat and tossed the pit over the gate of the stall.
I squatted down beside the gate. “You’re not good at riddles, are you?”
He blinked in surprise. “What makes you ask that?”
“Just seeing the fruit pit… It sounds strange, I know, but it makes me think of a riddle.”
“Never thought I was good at ‘em. Never had much call to. But once I helped somebody figure one out. We did pretty good.”
As the stable lamp faded and sputtered, leaving us sitting in the dark, I told him about the things I’d found in my house. “… So what do you think? Is it the Lords’ puzzle or not?”
The voice coming from across the dark stall was more serious than I expected. “I’d say somebody is trying to tell you something. Somebody that maybe can’t come out and say it for fear you wouldn’t allow it to be said. Not the Lords, though.”
“A slave, you mean?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s not important the who, but only the what.”
“I can’t figure it out. I’ve tried all kinds of solutions using the names of the things, the sizes, the substances; I’ve tried to match their names with other words, but they don’t seem to fit together at all.”