"And what happens after a magic student graduates from your Academy?"
Nievze made a breezy gesture with one hand. "Well, there are a number of possibilities. Matokin had uses for wizards in quite a few capacities, so..." He dropped his hand and his eyes. "After graduation you go into the army."
Radstac let her teeth show in her unnerving version of a grin. "So, really, you ran away because you didn't want to go to war."
He didn't lift his gaze. "Yes," he said simply.
Radstac shrugged. Despite her career as a mercenary, she had no strong opinion about deserters. Cowardice on a battlefield was a very understandable condition.
Nievze's faked death had been one of opportunity, he'd said. An accident had occurred at the Academy on the same day he was scheduled to leave to join the ranks of the Felk army. A wizard with a particular forte for fire magic—and not enough control over her talent—had managed to incinerate herself and four others nearby. Nievze, the first one on the scene, recognized that one of these was a visitor who had, at great peril, infiltrated the Academy to see his young lover, the fire producing magician. Nievze seized the opportunity, knowing that no record of the young man's visit would exist. He stuffed a few of his own personal effects into the man's seared clothing, fled the scene, and later escaped over the Academy walls.
Deo looked embarrassed for Nievze. Seeking to change the subject, he asked, "What sort of magic did you learn at the Academy?"
Nievze finally looked up. "Actually it's only technique that you learn there. Some people have an innate talent for magic. Most don't. Whatever capabilities you have are all you'll ever possess. They can only be refined."
Deo nodded. "That's very interesting. So, what techniques were you taught?"
"I specialized in blood magic."
Radstac had accompanied Deo when he'd brought the food and wine to Nievze's room, meaning only to make sure Deo didn't pass the man any more money. Now she was regretting coming along. Nievze was an irrelevancy. He could do nothing to help them and was in fact only a burden. Radstac felt no especial sympathy for him or his plight. He had been resourceful enough to contrive his own death, but he'd been barely able to survive on the streets of Callah.
"Blood magic?" Deo's brows raised. "What's that?"
Nievze pushed away his plate and settled back in his chair with his cup of wine. "Human blood has certain individual properties," he said, adopting an oratory tone. "These specific characteristics are very susceptible to magic. The blood can be influenced, so to speak. In a number of counterproductive ways."
"Fascinating. How does it work?"
"If I were to take a sample of your blood and dab it onto a cloth and store it," the wizard said, "then later, whenever I wished, I could cast a spell that would affect the living blood in your body. More, your physical proximity would have no effect on the magic. In essence, you could flee to the far end of the Isthmus, and I would still be able to reach you."
Deo gaped. Radstac, for the first time, shared some part of his astonishment.
"That's... diabolical," he breathed.
Nievze nodded his agreement.
Radstac frowned. "But what is the practical application of this magic?"
They both turned to look at her. Radstac could see in Nievze's eyes that he knew she wasn't trying to provoke him this time.
"It was a security measure," he said. "One dreamed up by a highly placed, politically powerful mage named Abraxis. You've heard of him?"
Radstac and Deo shook their heads. When Nievze had shown up at their door after curfew, having followed them from the tavern where they'd played that night, the two of them had maintained the pretense of being anti-Felk troubadours. Deo dropped the charade of being mentally deficient, and Radstac didn't fake her limp around Nievze, but otherwise the Felk deserter had no clue that they were actually working for Internal Security.
"Abraxis is a ruthless man," Nievze continued, "and his commitment to the success of the empire is equally fearsome. He arranged for samples of blood to be taken from each and every student who entered the Academy. Some of those students completed their training there, and some did not. But only the successful emerged alive. So now Abraxis has—inside that little red bag he always has, they say—the blood specimens of every wizard in the entire military. It's meant to ensure the total loyalty of the army's magicians. None of them dares turn against the empire, no matter how powerful they might be individually."
Radstac had seen many wars in her day, petty though they were in comparison to this conflict. She had seen brutality. She had seen abundant bloodshed. But she had never imagined that magic could be perverted so, turned into such a vicious instrument.
She rose from the room's only other chair. Deo was sitting on the foot of the bed. The space was windowless and, if anything, even shabbier than their own quarters.
"We should go," she said to Deo. "We have to go play soon."
He nodded reluctantly and stood. Nievze rose as well and said in that servilely thankful voice he seemed able to summon at will, "Once more I give you my humblest thanks for the kindness you've showed me. Your humane nature is inspiring."
Deo waved all this off. Back in Petgrad he had been renowned for his philanthropy. Radstac supposed it was simply his disposition that had led him to aid this wayward magician so generously. Nevertheless, Deo took the bottle of wine with them, Radstac noted, pleased.
They exited the room, made for the building's third level. Deo needed to collect his vox-mellifluous.
He paused on the groaning stairs, looked at her. "You think I'm being foolish for supporting that man?"
Radstac nearly answered with a curt and simple yes. But she reconsidered and went through the unfamiliar process of allowing for another person's feelings. She finally said, "Foolishly altruistic." She even spoke it in a softer tone.
Deo pressed a smile from his lips. He nodded. "He thought we were connected to the rebels that night he saw us play. He wanted to join up."
Radstac shrugged. That was far less remarkable, in her view, than the fact that Nievze had scraped together on his own the price of a drink at that tavern. Apparently Nievze had undergone a change of heart regarding fighting; now, after having lived under the Felk occupation, he was ready to join the rebels.
Deo leaned nearer. The stairwell was dim, but his blue eyes seemed to have a light of their own at the moment. "A rebel wizard. Don't you think that would be a valuable asset in this movement against the Felk?"
"I thought we were working for the Felk," Radstac said with a tiny smirk.
"Aquint's playing his game, and I'm playing mine. Should I ask which game you're participating in?"
"Not if you ever want a feel of my flesh again in this lifetime," she said facetiously; and even so, she was remotely stung that Deo would question her loyalty even in jest. She still considered her contract to him operative.
"I think he'll be... useful," Deo said.
"And in the meantime you can keep him as a pet. Let's get your stringbox. We have songs of protest to perform and Callahan hearts to swell. Let's not disappoint anyone."
It was called "Callah Forever Free," and it was among their catchiest songs, the melody borrowed from a bawdy ballad that concerned the endowments of a certain young female of frivolous sexual fidelity. Radstac sang the substitute words, and Deo made the music, and the patrons in the tavern gathered close as if to a warming fire.
Everyone was enjoying the performance. Everyone was properly stirred.
But it was during the second chorus of "Callah Forever Free," which the audience took up with her, that one figure rose to his feet and shot an accusing finger and shouted, "Traitors!"