Hanara was not surprised by the villagers’ reaction to him. He was a foreigner. He was from a country that had once conquered their people. A member of a race they feared.
Tessia had told him that if any villagers bothered him, he was to tell her. She had assured him there were laws and rules that would protect him. He smiled as he remembered her visits. She, of all the villagers, did not fear or distrust him. The person who came closest to understanding him did not hate him.
Here, in the stables, it was easy to be amused by the haughtiness of some of the villagers. They weren’t slaves, but they weren’t as free as they thought they were. Most worked hard all the same. They might have their fee and their freedom, but they were bound to the lord they served because he owned the land they cultivated and the houses they lived in. They were subject to his whim as any slave was to his or her master. It just didn’t feel like slavery to them because Lord Dakon was a benevolent and generous man.
He even asked if I would let him read my mind. I think he felt guilty about it, too. How can anyone be that scrupulous? That squeamish? It had been tempting to refuse, to see if Dakon would insist or apologise and leave, but Hanara had wanted the magician to know of the danger. Takado would return for him.
I don’t think he believed it. He looked for evidence. I don’t need evidence. I know Takado. What good is it being given my freedom by a man who can’t protect me because he won’t believe it when I say I’m in danger?
Perhaps he’d have been better off working for another, tougher magician. Or perhaps not. He’d noticed unhappy, fearful servants during Takado’s travels through Kyralia. He’d heard stories and rumours. Kyralian magicians could be cruel, and there was not a lot their servants could do about it.
Not all ashaki are as cruel as Takado, he told himself. Some of them are far worse, of course. But there are stories of ashaki who treat their slaves well.
Takado was a cruel man, but rarely without reason. He did not hurt or kill a slave unless that slave had failed or offended him in some way. The punishment usually fitted the crime. Hanara had never heard of Takado harming a slave for entertainment, though it was not uncommon among other ashaki.
Hanara shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable as a now familiar uneasiness stole over him again, as it had every night since he woke up bandaged head to foot in the Residence.
He could not understand why Takado had beaten him so badly and left him behind, when his mistake had been so small. If Takado is not cruel without reason, then I just haven’t seen the reason yet.
But if Hanara hadn’t earned such a savage punishment, what other reason might Takado have for beating him? Had he been trying to impress Lord Dakon? Had he intended for Hanara to be too badly injured to accompany him home?
What possible use was Hanara to his master while stuck here in Kyralia?
The most obvious answer was that he was meant to spy on Lord Dakon. Why Lord Dakon rather than any of the more powerful magicians, Hanara couldn’t guess.
And how am I supposed to spy on him if I’m out here in the stables, and he’s always in the Residence? If I go creeping around inside it’ll make people suspicious. Not that they aren’t suspicious already.
Dakon would be gone soon, too. How could he spy on the magician if he wasn’t here?
How could Lord Dakon protect Hanara if he wasn’t here? Hanara’s heart began to race as it had when he first heard the magician was going to journey to Imardin.
Can I persuade Lord Dakon to take me with him?
He shook his head and sighed. Lord Dakon had been kind and generous, but Hanara knew the man was not a fool. The last place he’d take a possible spy was the city, where Hanara might learn something useful. He’d want Hanara here, watched by his own people, where he couldn’t do any harm.
I am no spy. I have nothing to tell Takado. Soon I won’t even know where Lord Dakon is.
But even before he’d finished the thought he realised that he was wrong. He knew where Lord Dakon wouldn’t be. He also knew that a magician living nearby would protect the village if it was threatened.
He knew that while Takado could take this information from his mind, he had to reach Hanara first. For now all he could do was hope the precautions Lord Dakon had put in place would work.
The magical shield encompassing the wagon kept the rain and wind at bay, but the only known methods of using magic to smooth the road surface were too slow or too laborious to be worth applying. Rutted mud, sometimes submerged under pools and puddles, the road was a torment to both horses and humans, sucking at the hoofs of the former and shaking and jolting the latter.
Someone needs to invent a better wagon, Dakon thought. He’d had the cover removed from this one because he found being enclosed in a rocking vehicle made him feel sick. Tanner, the driver, had stowed it away in case it was needed later.
Protecting himself and his companions with magic took little effort, and Lord Dakon had no trouble sparing attention for lessons. Two objects were moving through the air between the four passengers. One was a metal disc, the other a small knife. The knife kept shooting towards the centre of the disc, while the disc dodged away. Malia made a small noise and flinched as the knife whizzed past her ear.
“Wouldn’t this be safer if I used something other than a knife?” Tessia asked, her voice strained.
Jayan stared hard at the disc. “It gives you the incentive to concentrate.”
Her frown deepened, then Dakon saw it suddenly ease. Her eyes flickered towards Jayan. A faint smile touched her mouth. The knife wove through the air, then suddenly headed straight towards the disc.
A metallic clink was followed by a muttered curse from Jayan.
Dakon laughed at his older apprentice’s expression of surprise.
“What did you do, Tessia?” he asked.
“I imagined what Jayan would see if the disc was between him and the knife. It blocked his view.”
Dakon nodded. “Good. You used reasoning and imagination. You’re no match for him in control and reaction speed yet, and until you are it is thinking like this that will win the game for you. Either that, or his laziness.” Jayan frowned at Dakon in protest. “But it is dexterity that you need to learn. Now swap places.”
Tessia’s gaze remained fixed on the disc as she dodged and evaded the pursuing knife. They had played this game many times now. Jayan was running out of tricks to surprise her with and she was becoming more skilled at manipulating objects with magic and her will.
Dakon suppressed a smile. Travel was exciting only when venturing somewhere new, not when enduring the same bad roads that had jolted his bones every time he made this journey. How many times had he travelled to Imardin? He’d lost count.
As always, his apprentices provided distraction and alleviated the boredom. However, Dakon missed the conversations that had kept him entertained on previous journeys, as Jayan was reticent around Tessia and Tessia wasn’t making up for the lack of talk, either. She was not the type of woman to chatter incessantly, thank goodness, but she, too, was disinclined to speak around her fellow apprentice.
Really, Dakon thought, the two of them were a right pair of sulks when they were together.
So he kept them both occupied with lessons. Even Malia appeared to draw some entertainment from the exercises, watching with fascination and sometimes a worried frown as she witnessed more magic being used than most country people saw in their lifetimes.