His stomach sank as he realised they were looking at the signal. Keron turned towards him. It was too dark for Hanara to make out the man’s expression. An arm rose and a finger pointed towards the signal.
“What do you think, Hanar? Know what it is?”
The servant master’s tone was friendly, but there was a hint of worry in it.
Hanara turned to regard the signal.
Report. Report.
If he told them what it was, they would send for the other magician. But if they had seen the signal on other nights, they might wonder why he hadn’t told them earlier. They might grow angry, and throw him out of the village.
They were already worried. They might send for the magician anyway, if prompted.
“I don’t know,” he told them. “Is it not normal?”
Silence followed, then Keron sighed. “No. Not normal.” To the others he said: “Someone should take a look.”
A longer silence. Hanara could make out enough to see the two youths exchanging looks. The stable master sighed again. “In the morning, then.”
Fools, Hanara thought. Cowards, too. They’re too scared to do anything. They’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist and hope it goes away.
Just as he had.
They weren’t going to seek the other magician unless they were sure they needed to. Trouble was, once they knew Takado was here and a threat there’d be little time to seek the other magician’s help. Was there a way he could convince them to call for help sooner? Perhaps there was.
“Is there danger?” he asked the stable master in a low voice. “I don’t know,” the man admitted. “You said another magician would come and protect us. Would he know if this is something bad?”
The man stared back at him, then nodded once. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Go get some sleep.”
As he walked away he caught snatches of conversation. A protest came from one of the younger workers. Climbing back up to the loft, Hanara listened carefully. Sure enough, when the men returned a horse was brought out and readied.
“It’s dark so take it slowly, but the moon will be up soon and then you can step up the pace,” the stable master advised. “Deliver the message and come straight back. Lord Narvelan will give you a fresh mount. I expect you back tomorrow night.”
Hanara’s heart froze. Tomorrow night? The other magician must live a full day’s ride away!
Takado was much closer than that. Much, much closer.
As the sound of galloping hoofs faded into the distance, Hanara rolled onto his back, his heart racing. This changes everything! Did Takado know that the only other magician nearby lived a full day’s ride away? He probably does, Hanara thought; he paid attention to those sorts of details while he was travelling here. He probably took note of where all the Kyralian magicians live.
So the only thing that was keeping him from entering Mandryn and killing or reclaiming Hanara was the belief that Lord Dakon was here.
He was going to work out that this wasn’t true eventually. Hanara could hope he didn’t before the other magician arrived, or Lord Dakon returned. Or he could leave and go to Takado. Takado might not kill Hanara, if he came willingly.
Yet Hanara could not make himself move. He could not yet abandon the hope that by waiting a little bit longer he might not have to confront Takado. After all, there was still a chance that Takado would kill him anyway, for disobeying his signal for so long. He lay still, waiting, as time crept by with excruciating slowness.
Then a sound below caught his attention. He rolled over and looked down. Ravern was standing with arms crossed, the other young stable servant emerging from an empty stall. They were both staring at a sweat-stained horse pacing the length of the building. The same horse that had left with the messenger had returned, riderless.
Terror rushed through Hanara, leaving him gasping. He’s here. Takado is here. And now he knows everything! He barely heard the stable master ordering two more horses to be saddled, cursing and mumbling that the messenger had probably just fallen off the horse. He couldn’t bring himself to watch the men prepare themselves with futile weapons, and leave.
But once they were gone, he climbed, shaking, down the ladder and slipped out into the night. He told himself he was leaving to save the village, but he knew with a familiar certainty that he was leaving to save himself.
It had surprised and impressed Tessia to learn that Everran and Avaria owned two wagons, one for their own everyday use and one kept for visits to the Royal Palace. Since the journey to the palace consisted of half the length of two streets, it seemed frivolous to own a vehicle especially for it.
But she had to admit the palace wagon was spectacular, and using it for ordinary journeys, bumping up against people and other vehicles, would mean constant repairs. Made of highly polished wood and gold fittings, with a cover of fine leather impressed and painted with the family’s incal – a revived heraldic fashion from before the Sachakan invasion – it declared to all around it that the occupants were rich and important. The four guards in uniform carrying whips also made it clear that such a wagon should not be delayed.
Inside the wagon a tiny globe light kept the chill of the night air at bay as well as providing illumination. Everran and Avaria sat opposite Dakon, Jayan and Tessia. All wore fine clothes in the latest fashion. Everran was in a long over-robe, the same style of clothing that Jayan and Dakon had worn when Tessia and her family had come to dinner at the Residence, made of the red cloth Avaria had bought in Vanity Street. Avaria wore a purple dress cinched in closely at the waist, with a narrow opening below the buttoned collar that would have been scandalously low if the glimpses it offered beneath had been of bare flesh, not a layer of red cloth. The skirt also had been “slashed” down each side, revealing more of the red cloth underskirt.
Tessia was as tightly clad in a dress of the green cloth bought by her hostess a few days before. To her relief, it was plain at the front, and while it did have slashes in the skirt, and along the sleeves, the cloth beneath was a demure black.
Dakon and Jayan wore over-robes, too, in black and dark blue. Back in the village the fashion had seemed extravagant and a little silly, but now it looked dignified and appropriate. It suited them both, she decided, then wondered if that meant they suited the city life better than life in Mandryn.
Perhaps Jayan, she thought. But maybe not Dakon. Her master did not look particularly relaxed. Black clothes and a frown combined to give an impression of distracted moodiness. In city clothes, Jayan looked calmly confident and she could even see a hint of why Avaria and her friends thought him handsome.
Sensing her gaze, he turned to look at her.
Just because I can admit he’s good-looking doesn’t mean he’s not also annoying and arrogant, she reminded herself, meeting his gaze coolly, then looking away.
The wagon slowed to a stop and the flap was opened by one of the guards.
“Lord Everran and Lady Avaria of family Korin,” he called out. Rising from his seat, Everran climbed out of the wagon and Avaria followed, holding the skirt of her dress carefully to prevent it from catching on anything or rising above her ankles as she stepped outside. As his name was announced, Dakon rose, followed by Jayan. Last to leave, Tessia climbed out carefully. Unused to the dress, she took Dakon’s offered hand gratefully and managed to reach the ground without baring too much of her ankles – or so she hoped. Apparently showing the bare skin of any part of your feet or legs was uncouth and common.