"Nine of the Ten remain."
Remain? He meant they were still alive? Rennyn stared at him. The original golems would have been long-lived, true, but she would not have expected their life-span to be more than one hundred and fifty or perhaps two hundred years.
"One was killed in battle," Captain Faille continued. "The rest…grew weary. To wake, to move, to do more than subsist, became beyond their strength. But they do not die."
Words failed her, and she shook her head in futile denial. Still alive? Unable to die? But she saw what was behind this. She understood the rules which bound the Kellian golems' existence, and could see a reason. Unless they were killed through violence they would not die.
They hadn’t been given permission.
Chapter Sixteen
Stupid, stuck-up, full of himself, know-it-all, pampered…
Kendall ran out of new things to call Sebastian Montjuste-Surclere and started the list over, stomping a foot in time to each word. What business was it of his to look down on her? She hadn’t been learning magic since she could crawl.
Well, enough was enough. Sebastian could admire himself as much as he liked. The idiots at the Arkathan could gossip and nudge and whisper and smirk at each other. Kendall didn’t need to hang around for that. She had money enough to find a place to stay, and smarts enough to find a job. She’d practice holding pebbles in the meantime, and if it ever looked like she might be able to do more she’d find a teacher. There were plenty of mages outside the Houses of Magic. Better mages.
At least, now that she’d decided to leave, she would be able to see the city. Who would have thought she’d have spent all this time in Asentyr and not even looked around? It was a stupid rule that students of the Arkathan couldn’t leave the Houses of Magic without permission, and Kendall felt as if she was kicking off chains as she marched down Aliace Hill.
Someone walking the other way stopped and turned around, following after her. Busybody. Kendall shot them a withering glare, which didn’t have much effect on Rennyn Montjuste-Surclere. The woman only seemed entertained by Kendall’s expression.
"Been arguing with Seb?" she asked, unexpectedly perceptive.
"No!" Kendall increased her pace, but found her elbow taken in a firm grip.
"Let’s go eat something. There’s a nice-looking teashop down here."
"Don’t you have a kingdom to save?"
"Tea first, then kingdom."
Kendall debated pulling free. "Look, Lady Mon-"
"Oh, call me Rennyn. I don’t have a title and we’ll dump the stupid surname as soon as this is over. Rennyn Claire, no more complicated than that."
"Then why introduce yourself as Montjuste-Surclere?"
"Because it’s simpler right now. Expediency excuses many sins."
Her voice was so bitter that Kendall had to stare, and she was curious enough to follow meekly into a tea-shop full of snotty types who were even less impressed with Kendall than the lot up at the palace. Without the all-concealing blue and black uniform smock, her worn dress marked her as exactly what she was.
"Spiced tea for two and a selection of cakes, please," Rennyn Claire ordered, tucking her bags under the table and gesturing for Kendall to do the same. "So you bored of the Arkathan?"
"They weren’t teaching me anything."
"Are they teaching anyone anything much at the moment? I understood the Arkathan teachers were covering the Hand’s duties, while the Hand mages are off helping the Sentene, who are hopelessly overstretched. They can barely keep up with the natural breaches, let alone the larger ones."
"I know all that," Kendall said, crossly. "I’m not asking them to stop or anything. I’m just putting my own time to better use."
"Having argued with Seb."
"I haven’t argued with anyone."
"Bah. What did he say to you that’s annoyed you then?"
"You’re as bad as he is – you always think you’re right."
"That’s because I usually am." Rennyn Claire smiled provocatively, then sat back as the snooty ladies filled their table with tea things and cakes. "So what is he wrong about?"
"This has nothing to do with your brother."
"If you say so. Have a cake."
It was early for lunch, so Kendall picked at a piece of seedcake, and watched Rennyn Claire put away enough for four. The woman ate with a straightforward enjoyment of all things sweet and sticky, her attention on the people walking past outside. Every time Kendall saw her the circles under her eyes were darker, but except for that brief remark about expediency she acted as calm as she had that day in Finton. Almost as insufferable as her brother.
"Do you think if you just sit there eating I’ll suddenly decide to tell you?"
"I think that the more times I ask the same question, the less likely you are to answer. You’re the one who has to decide whether it costs you anything to tell me."
In other words, she was curious but she didn’t really care. And Kendall had to admit there was nothing stopping her from answering the question.
"…he called me a would-be rote mage."
"What, to your face? Seb’s manners are slipping. Why does it matter what kind of mage Seb thinks you’ll make?"
Kendall groped for words. "It’s what he thinks matters. He acts like the world is full of two kinds of people: real mages and everyone unimportant."
Rennyn laughed. "Not so bad as that. But – Seb is like a musician in a world of the tone-deaf. He loves magic and adores talking about it, and if people can’t tell one note from the other they won’t understand what he’s saying. Does it matter to you what kind of mage you become?"
"A well-paid one." Kendall wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. "Anything that will earn more money than I would selling vegetables and running errands."
"How much more? A deviser, one with the depth of understanding to do more than just repeat back spells they’ve learned, is ten times more valuable than any rote mage."
"Maybe. But I’m not going to suddenly be this magic-is-my-life person. I’ll try and get good at it, but I’m not going to act like it’s the only thing in the world worth doing."
"Fair enough, though treating magic as a profession doesn’t prevent you from becoming a deviser – or being a real mage if you want to call it that. The thing I don’t understand is how leaving all the free food and accommodation helps."
"It lets me get some peace and quiet. The Arkathan is full of idiots who want me to tell them everything about you two, and won’t leave me alone when I won’t."
"So tell them. I doubt there’s anything that most of them don’t know already."
"I’m not there for their benefit."
"Hah." Rennyn drained her teacup and dropped some money on the table. "If nothing else, being able to stand your ground will come in useful when you’re casting. How about this – for the next five or so days I get to be dragged about Tyrland pinpointing incursion points again. Come with me and I’ll give you some tedious lectures on magical theory. When you get back you can decide if it’s worth hanging around the Arkathan any more."