Just as he had tied the first bundle of sticks together and hoisted it onto his shoulders he heard a voice. Looking further down the valley, he saw floating globes of light appear and several shadows approaching. The glimpses he caught through the trees were fleeting, but there was something familiar about the way these people walked. He abandoned his bundle of sticks and bolted back to the camp.
Takado looked up as Hanara hurried to his side. One eyebrow rose.
“Dovaka,” Hanara panted.
A fleeting scowl darkened Takado’s face, then his expression became calm again. He nodded to the ground.
Hanara huddled down beside Jochara and waited. This is going to be interesting, he thought. From what Hanara had overheard, some sort of confrontation had happened between some of Takado’s allies and some Kyralians. Takado had been quiet since. And not a good kind of quiet. His voice had been calm and measured in a way Hanara had learned to dread.
Takado was angry. Very angry.
The other magicians in his group had been cautiously enthusiastic, phrasing their words carefully. One fewer Kyralian, they said, meant one more success to attract supporters to Takado. But mostly they kept their opinions to themselves. Takado had said little, and nothing to indicate his approval or disapproval.
After the camp was established and slaves were sent to the end of the line of communication so that the other group of magicians could find it, they had settled down to wait. Eventually the second group arrived, minus two members, Dovaka and Nagana. None knew anything about the confrontation.
Calls of greeting preceded Dovaka’s arrival, then the man and his friend appeared and slaves of his group followed him into the clearing. Takado rose.
“I hear you have had a busy day,” he said.
Dovaka grinned. “Yes. One of those weak white barbarians came sniffing, all on his own.”
“He found you?” Takado’s eyebrows rose.
A line deepened above Dovaka’s brows at the suggestion he’d failed to remain hidden. “No. He came snooping so we taught him better manners.”
“A lesson I’m sure he’ll have plenty of opportunities to put into practice in future.” Takado finished with a smile.
Dovaka hesitated, then grinned. “No chance at all.”
A silence followed. Hanara noted that the rest of the magicians were watching Takado closely.
Takado’s smile broadened. “Then congratulations on being the first of us to kill a Kyralian magician. You may go down in the records for that. Here.” He glanced down at Jochara. “Let’s sit and celebrate your achievement.” The slave dashed away to the packs and brought back a bottle of spirits, while the magicians all sat down round the fire. As Takado offered Dovaka the first drink his smile faded. “I hope you don’t go down as the man who spoiled our chances of conquering Kyralia.”
Dovaka shrugged. “By killing one Kyralian?”
“Which we all know will have consequences,” Takado replied. “They will have been restraining themselves for the same reasons we have been. Now that we’ve killed one of them they’ll be free to kill us. Their tactics will change. So must ours. Don’t tell me you didn’t realise this? It was why I asked that no Kyralian magician be killed until we were ready.”
“We’re ready,” Dovaka scoffed. “We have the numbers and strength to take over ten villages. You would wait until all of Sachaka was roaming the mountains in hiding.”
“Ten villages.” Takado chuckled. He didn’t say anything more. The bottle had come around the circle, so he offered it to Dovaka again.
“The Kyralians are few and they’re stupid,” Dovaka said, then drank deeply. His gaze moved from Takado to the other magicians, moving from face to face. “We could take a third of their land now. Their villages are spread too far apart for them to be defended.”
“By them or us,” Takado replied. “Why waste time and energy, and Sachakan lives, taking a village that you would lose again?”
“We could leave as easily as we could arrive – and once news we have taken land reaches home, those joining us will increase tenfold. Hiding and skulking in the forest is not going to inspire anyone to leave the comfort of their mansions. Taking land will. And when they join us we could take more land, until we have only Imardin to make our own.” Dovaka took another swig of the spirit.
“Are you inspired?” Takado asked.
Dovaka blinked, looked down at the bottle then passed it to the next magician. “I am more than inspired. I have a goal, and a plan.”
“Hmm,” Takado said quietly, nodding. “So do I. What is yours? What do you want from all this?”
Dovaka’s eye gleamed. “Kyralia.”
“All to yourself?”
“No! For Sachaka.” Dovaka grinned. “Well, with a part of it mine. I’d want something in return for taking the lea— all the risks.”
“Yes,” Takado said. “We all do. Every one of us has something to offer, whether they be risk takers or cautious planners, in this enterprise, as we all have something to gain. We must all act as our good sense tells us to.”
As food was brought out and shared, including a magic-roasted leg of a reber brought by Dovaka’s group, talk moved on to more practical subjects. Takado’s bottle of spirit was emptied, then another produced. It felt like a celebration, and though Hanara was relieved the meeting of Dovaka and Takado hadn’t turned into a confrontation, he knew all was not well.
The night deepened. Magicians yawned and began to retire for the night. Dovaka and Nagana stagged off to their beds and their slave women. When they were gone, Dachido leaned closer to Takado.
“What will you do?” he murmured.
A small crooked smile tweaked Takado’s lips. “Nothing. In fact, I’m glad the first death has occurred, as some parts of my plan may now be set in motion.” He nodded. “Our risk-taking friend has his uses.”
Dachido looked doubtful, then considered Takado again. “I’d ask what you were up to, if I didn’t already know there was no point. We’ll find out in time. Sleep well.”
As the man left Hanara felt a weight on his shoulder and realised Jochara was falling asleep on him. He elbowed the young man awake, getting a sullen scowl in return for the favour. Then Takado stood up and walked away to his tent, and they both hurried to follow.
Somewhere behind the thick cloud, the sun was slowly climbing up from the horizon. Only a dim natural light seeped through to the clearing, so a few globe lights had been created to illuminate the camp. Most of the magicians were still asleep – only a few early risers had emerged from their tents to relieve those on watch.
The apprentices standing before Dakon looked mainly puzzled or sullen, though more and more were blinking with sudden realisation and looking more enthusiastic.
“Some of you have guessed why I’ve woken you all up so early,” he said. “A few nights ago we decided that your training must not be neglected, but the only practical way for your lessons to continue was for one magician to teach all of you simultaneously. I volunteered to be your first teacher.”
He examined each of them, noting which apprentices looked worried, doubtful or eager. The death of Sudin and Aken might have forced everyone to see how dangerous the Sachakan invasion was, but he knew that some magicians still disagreed with and feared the sharing of knowledge.
To reassure the doubters, Dakon had a plan. They all agreed that apprentices ought to be able to defend themselves. So lessons should be all about magical fighting skills, with a heavy emphasis on defence.
He’d thought about it long into the night. He’d imagined lessons rather like games of Kyrima, but there were great differences between real life battles and the way Kyrima was played.
“We’re going to start with a game of Kyrima where you are the pieces,” he told them. “Before we begin, there are some basic rules that you should all follow. All strikes must be harmless bolts of non-continuous light. Do any of you not know how to do this?” None of the apprentices responded, so Dakon nodded. “We’ll consider an apprentice’s shield broken if it is struck once, but if he or she hasn’t given strength to their magician yet that round, they get two strikes. When your shield is broken you must leave the game. Be honest: what we’re trying to do here is learn, not achieve high individual scores.