“Kakato,” the older garish man cut in, silencing his son. “Let us not presume to know what the emperor would or wouldn’t do.”
At last, a name, Stara thought. So my prospective husband is called Kakato. She made up some rude rhymes to entertain herself. When she turned her attention back to the men their conversation had moved on to a broken agreement with the tribes of the ash desert, and whether it was an unwise or an unlucky move.
The night wore on, long past the meal’s end. Stara found herself not having to fake her yawns. When her father finally dismissed her she rose and bowed with genuine relief before she left.
In the corridor outside, Vora was waiting. The woman’s lips were pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing until they reached Stara’s rooms.
“So, mistress,” the slave said, as always with no trace of subservience, but Stara could not bring herself to correct the woman. “What did you think of your prospective husband?”
Stara sniffed dismissively. “I wasn’t impressed. He’s a bit young for me, don’t you think?”
Vora’s eyebrows rose. “Young? How old do you like your men?”
“Old?” Stara paused, then narrowed her eyes at the woman. “It isn’t Kakato?”
The slave shook her head.
“Then one of the old . . . you must be joking! Which one, then?” The soberly dressed man had spoken the most intelligently, Stara noted, whereas the older garish man had seemed little smarter than his son.
“Master Kakato’s father, Master Tokacha.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask, mistress.”
Stara gave the woman a withering look.
“I was ordered to teach you customs, nothing more.” Vora spread her hands. “To do any more than ordered is to disobey.”
“If I order you to tell me anything that might be useful or important, unless that information is specifically restricted by my father, would you be able to?”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Of course, mistress.”
“Then tell me. Everything that might be useful or important.” Stara lifted the necklaces from her neck. It was amazing how tiring the weight of so much jewellery could be. One of them caught on the headdress and she cursed. She felt Vora’s hands plucking at it and soon she was free.
“How was Master Ikaro?” Vora asked as she stowed the head-dress in a wooden box.
“I have no idea. He only looked at me once.”
“Your brother is a kind man. And talented. But like you, a slave. You should ask to see him. I think Master Sokaro would allow it.”
“I doubt my brother would. If he cares that I’m here at all, it’s more likely he wants me married and out of the way.” Stara peeled herself out of the wrap and gave it to Vora, who handed her a sleeping shift.
“Why would you say that?” the old woman asked.
“He made it pretty clear what he thought of women the last time he visited us in Elyne.”
“That was some time ago. You may find he has changed. He would be a good ally. Shall I arrange it, mistress?”
Stara turned away. “I don’t know. Ask me in the morning.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Moving to the bed, Stara sat down and relished a full, unsuppressed yawn.
“I know what you were doing tonight,” Vora said from the doorway. “It will take more than that to put off your prospective husband.”
Her lips were back in that narrow line. Stara frowned in annoyance. “Sachakans may treat women like stock, but we both know women aren’t dumb animals or mindless objects. We have minds and hearts. Nobody can blame us for wanting, at the least, to influence who we are sold to.”
Even as she said the words, Stara knew she had given herself away. If not by her behaviour during the evening, which Vora must have been able to see or hear, then by responding to Vora’s accurate guess.
The woman lips softened and quirked upward.
“You’re not going to influence anyone by being so obvious about it, mistress.” Then she turned and vanished into the corridor beyond.
Stara stared at the empty doorway and considered a possibility she hadn’t thought of before. Could Vora actually be on my side?
As Tessia replaited her freshly combed hair she noticed that the voices of the magicians and apprentices outside the tent walls had grown from a few occasional murmured comments to a full, multi-voiced discussion. After tying off the plait, she crawled outside and stood up.
The morning sun filtered through the forest, striping the small abandoned field they had camped in with shadows. A knot of magicians had gathered between the tents, their apprentices hovering close by. All wore expressions of worry or annoyance. Spotting Jayan, she moved to his side.
“What’s happening?”
“Lord Sudin has gone, taking Aken with him.”
“Does anybody know why?”
“No, but Lord Hakkin has admitted that he and Lord Sudin discussed strategies for luring Sachakans into revealing themselves last night, or possibly scouting for themselves. He thinks Sudin might have left to try out one of his own ideas.”
“We are getting closer to Sudin’s ley,” Mikken added, moving to her other side. As she turned to regard him he smiled briefly. She found herself noticing, not for the first time, that he was rather good-looking. And nice, too, she added. Cheeky when the other apprentices are around, but never in a mean way.
“When did he leave?” she asked him.
“We’re not sure, but probably not long ago,” Jayan replied. She turned to see him scowling. Annoyed that a magician should so foolishly disobey Lord Werrin, she guessed. He saw that she was looking at him and his expression abruptly became neutral.
The knot of magicians broke apart.
“Pack up,” Werrin ordered. “Make it quick.”
At once the camp filled with activity and noise as all hastened to dismantle tents and stuff belongings into the saddlebags of the pack horses. When all were ready and mounted a scout led the group away, his gaze on the ground. Magicians and apprentices followed close behind, Werrin at the front. Servants followed nervously at the rear, but Werrin was reluctant to split the magicians up in order to keep the servants protected between them, especially as they were often forced by the terrain to travel in single file and a group of servants in the middle would be just as vulnerable to a surprise attack as one at the end.
Tessia heard Jayan’s stomach growl, and smiled grimly. She doubted they’d be eating any time soon. At least their supplies of food would last a little longer. The fresh supplies Lord Hakkin and the other newcomers had brought with them had only lasted five days, and with a larger number to feed and so much of the local area looted by Sachakans, the magicians were finding it ever harder to gather enough food for people and horses. Werrin had sent a scout south requesting that regular deliveries of supplies be organised. Dakon had expressed his worry to Tessia and Jayan that, if not arranged carefully and without magicians as escort, those supplies would only end up feeding the Sachakans.
The mood of the group had changed with the arrival of the newcomers. The magicians’ debates were more heated. Dakon had not revealed what the disagreements were about, but from watching closely Tessia was sure a battle of some sort was going on between Hakkin and Narvelan, and the rest of the magicians had either taken one side or the other, or were undecided.
Whatever the conflict was, she was not surprised to learn it might have led to Sudin’s leaving the group. Has he left to return home? Or is he planning some sort of attack on the Sachakans? I’d have guessed the former, since it would be madness to confront the enemy alone. But soon it became clear that the tracks of Sudin’s and Aken’s horses weren’t heading south. They were heading north-east, away from the city.