"The Renshai." Chymmerlee fairly spat the name. "The Renshai's spree of murder saw the end of every mage. They branded the Myrcidians their greatest challenge, and they refused to end the battle until every mage was dead. Every mage, that is, but one. And that one mage, though he never fathered a child, did make it into the historical writings."
Subikahn forced his thoughts past her hatred of Renshai, knowing it too well to show any giveaway expression or gesture. He worried not for himself, but for Saviar. What if his ill brother said something in ignorance, something revealing? Could Subikahn convince the Myrcidians to discard the crazed ramblings of a dying man? Instead, he forced himself to focus on the one surviving mage. He knew he had heard of at least one Wizard. "Was it… the Eastern Wizard? The one credited with returning the great King Sterrane to his throne?"
"Shadimar," Chymmerlee supplied the name, and Subikahn recognized it. "That was him. The most powerful of the last four Cardinal Wizards, and the only one born to Myrcide. Nearly immortal, he was forced to see his people destroyed, their utmost treasure plundered."
Chymmerlee's words brought back stories from the opposite viewpoint. Subikahn guessed which item the Eastern Wizard had prized, but every Renshai knew that the greatest of the Cardinal Wizards had been Colbey Calistinsson himself, the Western Wizard forced to stand against the other three-in triumph. "The Pica Stone."
Now, Chymmerlee stiffened, revealing the discomfort Subikahn had so well hidden. "You know of the Pica Stone?"
"Everyone knows the Pica. It was shattered, its pieces scattered throughout the many worlds. When its magic was needed, mankind and elves worked together to find its shards and re-create it. Now, it's Bearn's treasure, the testing item used to select the future high kings and queens."
Chymmerlee stared. "The Pica Stone was mended?" Her eyes widened with innocent awe. "It still exists? Our elders will want to know this. Will need to know this."
Subikahn wondered how they could not already know this. It had happened eighteen years ago. Shortly after his birth, his own parents had led the expedition. He had believed the recovery of the Pica common knowledge, but he supposed the secrecy of the mages might keep them ignorant of the goings-on in the rest of the world. "You said all of the mages were killed but one, and that one never fathered a child. So… where do you come from?"
The question jarred Chymmerlee back to the story, though she clearly needed to further mull his revelation. "The mages… were never allowed to marry commoners; it was thought to dilute the line, our power. Yet, apparently, a few did sneak off and create mixed offspring. Either these were unknown or deliberately ignored. But, centuries later, Jeremilan was born to common parents. Apparently, he carried the blood of two of those secretive unions, enough to grant him the power to discover and open the secret store of our ancestors."
"Secret… store?"
"A trove of lore and information, hidden for centuries and magicked so that only one of sufficient mage potential could happen upon it or open it."
"So," Subikahn put the details together. "This Jeremilan, born of common parents, had enough mage blood to become the new father of Myrcide."
"Exactly."
"And the mothers of Myrcide?"
"Well-it helps that mages can see auras."
The answer seemed to bear no relation to the question, and Subikahn stared questioningly at Chymmerlee. "Auras?"
"That glowy thing you saw around me that made you all crazy. That's an aura."
Subikahn remembered. "In all fairness, I thought you were a minion of Hel, and you were going to use that 'glowy thing' to kill my-" Abruptly realizing he once again sounded crazy, he laughed. "What's the purpose of that 'glowy thing,' that 'aura,' anyway?"
Chymmerlee also laughed. "I'm not sure auras have a purpose, other than helping magical beings recognize each other. It's just a byproduct of magic." The explanation made sense to Subikahn, but the words that followed did not. "You have one, you know."
"I have one?" Understanding seeped through. "You mean a glowy, aura thing?"
"Yes.You have an aura. A 'glowy, aura thing,' if you prefer."
"But I don't have any mag-" I do, Subikahn realized suddenly. I have the sword.
"You do." Chymmerlee echoed Subikahn's thought, then took a different tack. "Apparently, you have enough mage blood in you to grant you one. I haven't seen an aura on your brother yet, but he's been unconscious."
And I have his sword. Things came together in that instant. Chymmerlee only helped Saviar because of my aura, because she believed we're of mage lineage. Subikahn shivered at a terrible realization. He had no idea how long he could hide the truth from wielders of magic, no way to understand in how much danger it placed them. Clearly, the Myrcidians had the potential to wield great power, and they did not like Renshai. Saviar had demonstrated a bit more caution and craftiness than his famously guileless father and grandfather, but he would not know to hide his origins. They had, after all, intended to create a new, friendlier face for the Renshai.
If Chymmerlee had any inkling of the desperate boil of thought consuming Subikahn, she gave no notice. "Jeremilan searched for auraed people. When he found them, he got to know them. And, if they showed proper interest, he inducted them. At length, we had a small band with which to repopulate the mages."
"A small band?" Subikahn forced himself to keep his attention on the story, though more concerned for what Saviar might say upon awakening. He remembered the problems the Renshai had when they had been forced to re-create their tribe. Inbreeding remained a Renshai concern, which he assumed was why they agreed to accept him and his brothers despite their half-blood status. "Doesn't repopulating take a rather large band? Otherwise, you wind up marrying brothers and sisters, fathers and daughters."
Chymmerlee blushed. "It helps that mages outlive other humans, so we had time to pick, find, and choose. But, yes, we do have trouble finding new and unrelated blood. That's one of the reasons we're so eager to help you and Saviar. It's been many decades since we've added anyone not already in the clan."
Subikahn chewed his lower lip.
"You have the aura; and, unless your mage blood comes wholly through your father, your twin should have some, too."
Needing at least as much goodwill for Saviar as himself, Subikahn said quickly, "Oh, it's definitely not from my father."
Chymmerlee's brow beetled. "How do you know that?"
"Because my father can trace his wholly Eastern lineage to kings." It was at least partially true. Tae Kahn's bloodline was as pure and regal as mud, but it was almost certainly solely Eastern. And he was the king, though it had nothing to do with bloodline. "Mama's the Westerner." Also true, though not by blood. It was all Subikahn could do to suppress a chuckle at the irony. His life depended on fooling mages into believing he descended from their pure line, when, in fact, he did not carry a single drop of even the meanest Western blood.
Chymmerlee clasped her hands, and her face lit up. "That's wonderful!"
Her exuberance surprised him. Subikahn could not recall the last time he had seen such obvious joy. "Wonderful?"
Chymmerlee brought her hands in front of her face, clearly trying to suppress her excitement. "It means Saviar has mage blood, too." Her efforts at hiding her mood failed. Her happiness came out in a light tapping of her toes that resembled pent-up dancing.
Subikahn rolled his eyes. He had seen that expression before. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
"In love?" Chymmerlee narrowed her eyes, simulating horror; but the flush growing across her cheeks gave her away. "Why, I hardly know him. I've never even spoken to him. He's in a coma, by the gods." She pursed her lips sternly. "Besides, I'm sure a handsome man like Saviar already has too many girlfriends."
Subikahn returned his gaze to the window. The scene outside had not changed, the only movement the bowing of branches in a light breeze. He wanted to lie, to tell her Saviar's heart was taken; but he could not bring himself to do it. Right now, he needed the mages to like them, and Chymmerlee had done enough for Saviar to deserve better.