Color Mage (Book 1) (8 page)

“Lord Alkiran punished Gru for interfering between himself and Gru’s wife.”

“Gru’s wife? I thought the
righ
were forbidden to father half-breed children?” That made her think of Lord Callo, and she frowned. Perhaps he was a different case, due to his rank. It seemed unfair.

“Sure, they are forbidden to father children on a commoner. That does not mean they can’t take their pleasure where they will. Gru’s wife was young and very lovely, and Mikati saw her once—gods know where; it’s not like he spends time down here with us fisherfolk. Gru raged and cried to me, but said not a word to Alkiran. Afraid for his life, he was. I gave her herbs, but they did not work. When she quickened, and then bore the child to term and it was
his
. . .”

Kirian was riveted, sitting on the floor at Ruthan’s feet. “How did they know it was Lord Alkiran’s?”

“I knew. My eyes could tell. But it mattered not. If Alkiran had been unsure, he would have acted the same.”

“What did he do?”

“Sent his men to take the babe as soon as it was born. Gru tried to hide it, but he was no match for warriors. They stole the babe and left Gru and his wife screaming for it.”

“What—what did he do with the child?”

“He slew it. Himself, with his own sword, and ordered the guards to set the body out on the rocks for Jashan.”

“By the Unknown God! How could he?”

“We’re not human to him, you see. Only the
righ
are human. And when Gru came raging up the mountain with a fishing knife in his hand, Lord Alkiran used his color magery on the man, and Gru came back confused. He’s never been the same.”

“I wonder he didn’t kill him.”

Ruthan cackled. “That was his idea of mercy, to leave the man alive but so empty-minded he sits in the weather and leaves his family to be fed by his brother.”

* * * * *

Ruthan confirmed that Cam’s shoulder was not broken, but scolded Kirian for growing to depend too much on Ruthan’s sight. Kirian sent Cam away, the boy skipping and babbling some song as he headed for the cliff path to see Miri in the Alkiran stables.

Later that week, Kirian made a point of stopping along the docks where Gru sat in the sun. The man was wrapped in cloak and blanket against the chill sea wind. His hood was drawn down over his eyes. He stared out to sea even though the sun on the waves was so bright Kirian could stand it for only a few seconds. But Gru looked, and did not waver. Perhaps it was not as bright as the color magery that had stolen his wits. After a few moments he looked up at her, his eyes in his once-handsome face now blank and incurious. She asked him if he needed anything, and he did not respond; instead, he just stared at her with the same lack of intensity he had given to the ocean. She waited a while, then wished him well and left him. She knew no healing that could help a man whose mind had been taken by magery.

Walking along the strand, she spoke to Elder Hame. The old man told her he had been sending boys out to the High Rocks to look for a ship. “My Lord Alkiran wants word as soon as she passes the rocks,” he told her. “Lord Callo said she is a Leyish ship. They’re heathen brutes, the Leyish. Breed good horses though.”

Thinking of Miri, she looked up and saw riders on the strand. From a distance she could not distinguish who they might be, but she caught a gleam of gold and thought it might be the sun on Lord Callo’s hair. He rode with others, perhaps men of his command. The sun struck answering reflections from metal on their tack and weapons. They turned and galloped closer, on their way to the cliff path to take them upward to the Castle. It was indeed Lord Callo, graceful in the saddle, and two other men. Lord Callo’s eyes were on the way up the cliff path, and he did not glance toward Kirian.

* * * * *

The sea sparkled as a brilliant sun shone upon the little craft. Kirian, sitting near the bow, unpinned her brooch and let her cloak slide down her shoulders. It was simply too hot to wear a cloak, though there was a chill in the salt spray. The recent cold snap had given way to a series of warm days, a last reminder of summer before winter’s final bite. Kirian had taken advantage of the sultry weather to ask Kin and Rashiri to take her out on their boat.

Kin and Rashiri hauled up the nets. Water streamed from the squirming catch and caught the light in glorious rainbows. A flopping, silvery mass of fish spilled out onto the deck of the
Homebound
.

“And she is bound to home, too,” Rashiri had told Kirian. “We paid for a color mage from Two Merkhan to come and do a binding on her. She is bound to Seagard. So fear not, city girl! You are safe with us.”

Kirian had never before been in a boat, not even the little mage-powered sailcraft that drifted in circles around LakeHeart in Sugetre. There, the sailcrafts were rented by the hour to those who were willing to pay a few coins for the pleasure, and never had a sailcraft been lost or even capsized on the calm little lake. So Kirian had boarded the
Homebound
with some trepidation. But after a few hours of sitting at her ease on deck, soaking up the sun and delighting in the vast beauty of the smiling sea, she was reconciled. She loved the feel of the sun, and the shouts and calls of the fish merchants at Two Merkhan were a pleasure to hear after the quiet of little Seagard. After the pair had sold their catch, the
Homebound
turned south again, heading for home.

“I envy you,” she told Rashiri when the other woman took a break from her work to sip a jar of cold, honeyed tea with Kirian, both in the bow. “You’re surrounded by such amazing beauty here.”

“We are very lucky to be able to do this together,” Rashiri said. Her face was creased and deeply tanned from exposure to the sun and wind. Her uncomplicated smile showed strong white teeth. “But don’t think it’s all like this.”

“There must be storms, and rain, and wind.”

“Those are bitter cold days, indeed,” Rashiri said. “And there are days with no fish, and days when one of us gets sliced by one of our own knives or the teeth on some unexpected catch.” She held out one arm to show Kirian the frightening white scar that ran around her forearm in an arc. “That’s a bite!” she said.

“I see,” Kirian said faintly.

“Spilled right out of the net with the catch and bit me before I could say aye. Kin got it off me, but Ruthan was busy that day and a few after, I can tell you.”

“Fishing isn’t so peaceful then.”

“It’s hard work. But I love it, Hon Kirian, and it’s the blessing from the Unknown God that I can be out on the bright sea every day with my love. How many can do that? Here, have some more tea.”

Kirian held out her mug and let the other woman splash some of the caramel-colored liquid into it. The
Homebound
was approaching port now, steered by Kin in his stained and fishy tunic. Kirian looked straight ahead, to the clutter of houses on the shore that was SeagardVillage, then up and up, to the castle that looked out like a hawk on the promontory. She wondered how the newly-bound Lord Arias was progressing, and remembered Lord Callo’s amber eyes.

Behind them, the sun sank hotly to the edge of the sea.

Out on the far horizon, like a pencil line drawn by an artist to delineate the calm sea, lay a mark between sea and sky.

“Rashiri! What is that?”

Rashiri stood and craned her neck, then cried out to her husband in the bow. “Kin! Black Tide!”

The line grew thicker, as if the artist inked it, a black border lying on the surface of the ocean. Kirian stared as the line widened, broad as a brush now, and felt her breath torn away by a freshening wind, or by fear; she could not tell which.

Then it seemed to rush toward them, speeding towards the craft as Kin and Rashiri raced to push all possible speed from the
Homebound
.

“Gods! We’re in its path!” shouted Kin, and the sheet of black drawn over the ocean sped closer.

Kin shouted orders, and the wind rushed louder. Kirian, trying to stay out of the way, felt the boat surge forward under their expert handling. But the dock was too far away, and there was no way to beat the accelerating darkness. She gazed in paralyzed shock as the whole western sea turned black. A tumble of stunned and helpless fish was washed along in the front of the blackness, those creatures already experiencing the deadening effects of the Black Tide. The Tide was so close she could see its odd matte surface, which did not reflect the rays of the setting sun.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flare of brilliance from the Castle. Someone there, one of the Alkirani mages, was on duty. A wave of energy swept off the shore and onto the sea—glorious reds, blues, greens, and golds. The colors overtook the
Homebound
and swept her with radiance before meeting the Black Tide in an inaudible crash. A vibrant shield rose into the sky. Through the translucent colors, Kirian saw the Black Tide curling back, retreating against the strength of the defense.

“Jashan and all the gods,” whispered Kirian.

The
Homebound
reached dock. Helping hands grabbed ropes to moor the boat, and hustled all three of them to shore. They left the
Homebound
bobbing, at the mercy of the stiffening wind, but not even Kin and Rashiri dared to wait outside to put her properly away.

“Did you see that?” cried Elder Hame, his white hair whipped in the sudden gale. “Did you see that?”

“Couldn’t help seeing it, old one. We were almost eaten by it!” Kin said. He sat down abruptly on a stool in the house they had been ushered into. He put his head in his hands. Rashiri stood behind him and placed her calloused hands gently on his shoulders.

“I take it,” Kirian said carefully, “That doesn’t happen, uh, often?”

Hame laughed. “Never seen it, though they say it happened once ten years ago. What power! My lord mage was brilliant! That’ll teach those Ha’lasi not to sneak up on us that way!”

“It was too close,” Rashiri said.

“I need to go back to Ruthan,” Kirian said. “Kin, Rashiri, you get yourselves home and have a warm mug of wine. That’s from your Healer, now!”

“We have to tend to the
Homebound
,” Kin said.

“Leave her. Someone else will take care of her for you this time. You’ve had a shock, you know.” Two men nodded at her and went out to take care of the
Homebound
.

Rashiri nodded, hands still on Kin’s shoulders as he slumped on the stool. “I’ll get us home, Hon Healer,” she said. “We’re fine though. Get to Ruthan, or she’ll be worried about you.”

Kirian backed away, her eyes still on Kin, torn between her duty to old Ruthan and the possible need for her here. The door opened and there stood Ruthan, bent with age and the struggle against the wind, cloaked for a journey.

“Young Kirian!” she said. “Come! They will be calling for us at the castle.”

“We’re fine,” Rashiri said. “Go.”

Kirian waited only to grab her cloak, and she was gone.

Chapter Four

Callo unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to the guard at the door. The guard gestured to him and he removed his cloak, letting the man see that he had no other weapons slung about his person. The guard opened the door.

King Martan Alghasi Monteni sat on an ornately carved chair, one of the prizes of the Alkirani, who lived in a land with few trees. His clothing was fit for the throne room in Sugetre, from the light silver crown around his graying head to the valus fur trimming his cloak. A few courtiers lounged around him, equally well-dressed. A clerk sat at a nearby desk, writing instructions. Callo glanced around for Arias, who sometimes graced this crowd between his Watches, but saw no sign of his half brother.

Callo bowed.

King Martan paid Callo no heed until he finished the conversation he was having with one of his guardsmen. As soon as that man bowed and went about his affairs, His Majesty turned to Callo.

“Where have you been?” the King asked.

Callo felt irritation stir at the King’s brusque question, but forced it down. He thanked Jashan for the calm the god had granted him during the sword forms he had just completed in the ring. It had always been critical that he keep a calm mind, since unpleasant things seemed to happen around him when he did not. Chiss had introduced him to a Jashanite warrior-priest when he was ten; the man had taught him everything he knew about the sword, and initiated him into the discipline of the ritual forms.

“Your Majesty, I have been in the training ring. Did you require my presence earlier?”

“I have not heard from the village. The Leyish ship is overdue. Send down to the village to see what is going on. Also, you’d better send a man to Two Merkhan—if the ship has already arrived, I’ll have some heads.”

“Sire, Elder Hame assured me they would keep constant watch. The ship must round the High Rocks to make port at Two Merkhan, and when it passes them, it will be visible from the village. I believe the Elder is actually sending boys out to the High Rocks to check. But of course I will send to make sure.”

“Do that. I will be departing immediately for Sugetre. As one of my Guard captains, I require you to make your men ready. Leave a man here to meet the ship and send word to Sugetre when it arrives. Alkiran will have to do the honors when the delegation arrives.”

“Your Majesty!” Callo said. He paused, his thoughts spinning. He wanted to remain here a little longer; something about the place drew him, and he was reluctant to leave Arias just yet. “I respectfully request to remain and await the Leyish delegation.”

King Martan’s eyes grew even colder. “Why do you not wish to accompany me, Lord Callo? Have you forgotten where your living derives?”

“No, your Majesty, and as always I appreciate your generosity.” Callo fought down the twist of anger; he should be used to Sharpeyes’ manipulative techniques by now. When King Martan had taken him on as a child, out of family obligation since his sister Lady Sira Joah refused to have the boy in her house, he had gifted Callo with the title and income from a small manor near the Leyish border. That was what allowed Callo to dress and live like the hereditary noble he was, in spite of his shameful birth.