"But isn’t that a suitable profession? Hardly common servitude."
"It is the appearance of the thing. In the eyes of the world Kel ar Haedrin and Kerin las Lorednor are bodyguards. Kerin las Lorednor is thought to have come down greatly since he entered the Kier’s service, for such as they do not win public acclaim, or even acknowledged promotion. Nor, were their roles clear, would they be thought admirable."
Medair understood. The intelligence agents of her Emperor had been feared or despised, no matter their value. "I set my goals very young," she said, considering the woman beside her. "In some ways I didn’t have a choice. My sister was possessive of what would one day be hers and I knew I would have to make my own place. But I was fortunate to want, oh, something which let me preen and think well of myself and not have people think badly of me. My mother encouraged me to it. I don’t know how she would have reacted if I’d announced a desire to be a shadow-lurker."
"Velvet Swords, they call them," Ileaha murmured. "The best of them, at least. Kel ar Haedrin tells me much of her world is dull and there are times when it is necessary to debate honour. But I am sure that I would prefer it to the well-paid and unrewarding role of Keris las Theomain’s secretary."
They drifted on in silence and Medair was left to think about the stark contrast between Avahn, Ileaha and the first Ibisian she had known. Selai Attau las Dona, adept, Kerikath. Assigned to teach the Imperial Heralds the Ibisian tongue. An eternally formal woman, she had spent many months in their company and never let her reserve slip. Except for that first time, before their Kier had even declared war, when Kedy had asked their new teacher about the disaster which had destroyed Sar-Ibis. It had been so unnerving, listening to the Ibisian woman describe the destruction of her home without so much as a quaver. Medair had been almost relieved when the mask had cracked, if only for an instant.
They had just delivered the Emperor’s message and been sent away to wait. A simply amazing meal had been brought to them: fruits, cheese, miniature pastries and tiny bowls of sauces, all arranged into a complex flower pattern. Scarcely believable in the wilds of Kormettersland.
"There is a great deal for us to discover today, Kerikath," Kedy had said. His hair had been as white as the Ibisians', but the craggy, generous lines of his face were never so cold. "I fear at least half these fruits are new to me."
"Some will never be seen again," the Kerikath had replied. "We carried away seeds and seedlings, even uprooted established plants, but it was impossible to take everything in time." She reached out and selected from the arrangement a fruit which resembled a large cherry, darker and firmer. "A black denan takes ten years to grow to maturity and bear. In the best conditions they are a challenge for any who nurtures the AlKier’s gifts, prone to failure outside their ideal environment. We have seedlings, but they may not fruit here."
"Farak’s blessing on your planting, then," Kedy had murmured. "I must admit, I am overwhelmed by what you have brought with you. We have always been told that the misuse of wild magic could spark an uncontrollable fire which would consume the whole of Farakkan. If that is what your people faced, and still you had time to think of black denans and seed-stock, then it is a simply amazing achievement."
The Kerikath had selected a diamond of pale cheese from the array, face solemn as she considered Kedy’s unspoken question. "We did not face fire, only a crawling black roil of power which transmuted everything it touched to water."
"An opposite," Kedy had said. "If you are able, can I prevail upon you to tell us what happened? I know our adepts wish to discuss this in detail, that you will be asked more often than kindness and forbearance should allow, but you understand our need to know?"
"Of course. I have been commanded to assist you in all you must discover." There had been no feeling at all in the woman’s voice, and Medair had begun to think the Ibisians completely inhuman.
"One whose name will never again be uttered called on wild magic to resurrect her dead child," the Kerikath had said. "She knew well the ban against her actions, and removed herself to Myridar, an empty region on the northern shores of Sar-Ibis to make her desperate gamble, outside the reach of those who would stop her summoning.
"We do not know if she succeeded, whether the child returned to life. If he did, it was only to die again as the power summoned by his mother cascaded out of control. It takes flesh more quickly than earth. I saw once, towards the end, a man consumed by the Blight. He misjudged his step making a precarious crossing, dipped the edge of his foot into the Blight and literally dissolved as we watched, falling away beneath himself. Four breaths. That is all, from turning to see his son safely following, to liquid indistinguishable to that all around, his clothes and belongings marking the spot for only moments after, until they too were gone, and then the stones he had been standing upon."
Medair had only been able to stare. Kedy, better able to command himself, murmured: "Was there nothing to be done?"
"Nothing which worked." The Kerikath had taken a tiny sip of water, replacing the glass on the table with an excruciatingly controlled click. "All Sar-Ibis knew, almost immediately, that we faced disaster. Wild magic screams aloud its strength, and we could hear and read the danger of that cry, though we could not see what made it.
"It had spread only the smallest distance by the time the first lok-shi reached the Blight, had consumed only the lonely house where the one had wrought her misdeed. All that was be found was a pool of water, so lividly powerful it was painful to approach, yet to the eyes wholly innocuous, dark and peaceful, with a rim of black about the edge. And, just perceptibly, growing larger.
"At first, we believed we could stop it. Spells of nullification, containment, cancellation. We plumbed the depths of our knowledge, and it was not enough. The Blight transmuted every container, even those constructed of raw force, and it fed on everything we tried to use to neutralise it. Soon, Myridar was a bay, a bite gnawed out of the north. Every animal, bird, and insect of the region had fled south and the Myridans with them, and we turned to solutions born of desperation.
"Sar-Ibis is – was – a long, narrow island, at one point only half a day’s journey across. We resolved that this would be the place to stop the Blight. The entire north was evacuated: cities, towns, the cottages of wood-cutters. Even those places which would not be reached by the Blight for weeks were emptied, taken south.
"Then, gathering together all the lok-shi able to contribute to the casting, we shattered Sar-Ibis, sheared off a third of our island and cast it, and the Blight, into the sea."
The Ibisian woman had paused then, taken a deep breath and looked down. Her face remained expressionless, but for the first time the effort in the telling of her tale had been palpable. It had been the only time, in the months that Kerikath las Dona had taught her, that Medair had been certain her teacher felt the horror and sorrow that such disaster should inspire. And, after a moment, that loss of control had been mastered and she’d gone on.
"We could feel the power of it still, somewhat muffled. We believed the Blight to be eating away the remnant of the north beneath the water, and kept close watch while we organised those who had been displaced. The breaking of Sar-Ibis had roused the earth, and it trembled constantly. We had known that we would suffer for our deed, and did what little we could to soothe the land, thinking the worst was over. Then Tenrathlar, one of our most beautiful cities, fell into the sea.