But he couldn’t prevent that from happening. He could barely even move. All he could do was lie still and wonder, as he had all his life, if he would survive the next day.
The miniature paintings were quite amazing. Jayan peered at them closely, wondering why he hadn’t noticed them before. The woman’s tiny eyes even had eyelashes and he wondered what sort of brush could have produced such impossibly thin lines. There was a subtle blush to her cheek. She was quite pretty, he decided.
Where did Lord Dakon find the time to purchase art while entertaining Takado? Or has this always been here, and I’ve never noticed it?
He nudged a frame with one finger, swinging it slightly across the wall. Beneath was a faint dark shadow where the paint hadn’t faded as much as the exposed area around the miniature.
They’ve been here for years, he mused. It’s as if I’ve been away for a while. I’m noticing things I’ve become so accustomed to that I don’t see them any more.
But he hadn’t been travelling the country, he’d been stuck in his room. Now, according to Malia, the reason for his imprisonment had ended. The Sachakan magician, Takado, had packed up his few belongings, ordered his horse saddled and his pack horse loaded, and left.
As soon as Jayan had received the news, he had gone in search of Lord Dakon. Moving through the house, he noticed the excited chatter of the servants, adding to the impression that an oppressive force had been lifted from the place. In one room he saw silver tableware being packed away in an ornate cabinet; outside another on the guest floor he passed house servants carrying bedding away to be cleaned.
One of them nodded to a closed door and mouthed a word. Slave.
Jayan had looked at the door. So there was still one grim shadow remaining in the Residence. He had been surprised to hear the Sachakan had left his man behind. Perhaps Malia’s reports that the slave was healing well were wrong.
He had left searching the guest floor until last. It was possible Malia had been wrong about the Sachakan’s leaving. It was also possible Takado had come back, having forgotten something.
I won’t feel completely at ease until Dakon confirms Takado is well and truly gone.
The smell of something burnt reached his nose as he continued down the corridor, adding to his growing anxiety. He peered through an open door – and stopped.
“What...?” he muttered.
One corner of the room was a mess. The walls were cracked, and the floor and furniture scorched. He moved to the threshold and stared at the destruction.
“What would you say did this?”
Recognising the voice, Jayan turned to see that Lord Dakon was sitting in a chair facing the mess, his head resting on one hand and his elbow on the arm of the chair. His expression was one of absorbed thoughtfulness.
That side of the room, Jayan noted, hadn’t suffered any damage at all. He turned back to examine the damage critically.
“Takado,” Jayan replied. The destruction must have a magical cause, and Dakon wouldn’t have asked the question if he’d done it himself.
“I thought so too, at first. But it doesn’t make sense.”
“No? You weren’t here at the time, then?”
“No.” Dakon rose and looked down at the floor rug. One corner of it had been scorched. He stepped onto the burnt patch and turned round. Then he pointed to the floor a few steps away. “Stand there.”
Mystified, Jayan obeyed.
“That’s where Tessia was lying.”
“Tessia?” Jayan asked. “The healer’s daughter?” Then he added. “Lying?”
“Yes.” Dakon backed away, looking over his shoulder as he stepped over a broken chair. When he was nearly in the corner of the room where the scorching was the worst, he stopped. “This is where Takado was standing when I arrived.”
Jayan raised his eyebrows. “What was Tessia doing in the room with Takado?”
“She had come to tend to Hanara.”
“Hanara?”
“The slave.”
“The slave was in here?”
“No – a few doors down, in the servant’s closet.”
“So why was she in here, on the floor? Or... why was Takado in here with her?” Jayan looked down at his feet, then over at Lord Dakon, and felt a shiver run across his skin as he realised which direction all the scorch marks ran in. “Oh.”
Dakon smiled and stepped back over the chair. “Yes. The answer to those questions may be less relevant than their consequences. Whatever the reason those two were in here alone together, with the door closed, the result was something neither expected.”
“It left her on the floor and . . .” Jayan look pointedly over Dakon’s shoulder, “did that. From the looks of it, I’d say she didn’t much like Takado’s company.”
Which meant Tessia used magic, he thought. Surely not...
The magician sighed. “We can’t dismiss the possibility that the Sachakan arranged this to look that way, so we would jump to conclusions about her. I can’t see why – except as a joke. But if he didn’t . . .” He shrugged and let the sentence hang.
If he didn’t, then Tessia is a natural.
Jayan watched his master closely, trying to judge what the man felt about this unexpected turn of events. By law, Kyralian magicians had to train naturals, no matter who they were, or what social status they had. Dakon did not look dismayed, but he didn’t look particularly pleased, either. Instead, he seemed worried. Lines Jayan hadn’t noticed before marked his forehead and each side of his mouth. That bothered the apprentice on another level. He had always been smugly relieved to have a teacher young enough to still be active and, well, not a boring, lecturing old man. Though Dakon was eighteen years older than Jayan, his mind was still youthful enough to be interesting, while knowledgeable enough to be a good resource. Jayan enjoyed Dakon’s company as much as his lessons.
And what do I think of Tessia joining us? He tried to imagine having the same sorts of conversations with a woman – and commoner – in the room, and couldn’t.
Tessia was by no means Dakon’s social equal, so perhaps she would not always be a part of their social evenings. No, he decided. She will have lessons separately, too, because they’ll be so basic there won’t be much point my being there. But she’ll demand a lot of Dakon’s time.
Abruptly, Jayan realised there was much he disliked about this turn of events. If Dakon had two apprentices, his time would have to be split between them. Unless...
“You don’t have to take her on,” Jayan said, making his tone reassuring. “You could send her to someone else.”
Dakon looked up at Jayan and smiled crookedly. “And send her away from her family? No, she stays here,” he said firmly. “But her family may not like it. The news must be delivered with some delicacy. Her father is obviously attached to her. To frighten her would be disastrous. Above all we must not give them high hopes then dash them. I have to test her, to be sure she is what she appears to be.”
Jayan nodded and turned away to hide his dismay. I suppose if anyone in the village must turn out to be a natural, at least it’s someone who doesn’t have to be taught to read and write. He moved to the chair Dakon had occupied and sat down. Then he smiled. “I wish I could have seen his face.”
“Veran’s?”
“No, Takado’s.”
Dakon chuckled and moved to another, slightly scorched, chair. “He wasn’t pleased. No, he looked disgusted.”
Sachakans hated naturals, Jayan knew. They didn’t fit into Sachakan social structure, a problem which was usually more dangerous for the natural than for the master. A person’s powers had to be particularly strong to surface on their own, yet no ordinary magician, no matter how powerful, could hope to match the strength of a higher magician, who had taken and stored magic numerous times from their slaves or apprentices. But a trained magician was much more dangerous to keep as a slave than an untrained latent. Sachakan naturals were too much trouble, and therefore doomed to die, if not killed by a magician then when they eventually lost control of their powers.