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ARIANA CLOSED THE BLACK door behind her and checked the latch. Then she glanced up the hallway and, seeing it empty, placed her fingers over the mechanism.
Previously, the bolt had always flashed a bright yellow in her mind’s eye and seemed to interlink with the jamb. It was probably foolish for the Black Mage, lowest of the Great Circle, to attempt a magical lock on anything within the Wheel. The higher mages could unwork her spell in a moment. But she liked to think her workrooms were secure from any patrolling soldiers or passing grey mages who grew curious, and it could do no harm.
Today, however, the latch was only a latch, the bolt only a bolt, and there was no arcane lock overlapping the ordinary one.
She swallowed her panic and turned toward the exit, holding her chin rigidly high.
She left the Wheel and started across the courtyard toward the gate. There were vendors within the grounds, of course, but there would be a greater variety of offerings in the city markets. Clear your head—as if such a thing were possible.
A hooded figure, head bent against the weather, was crossing the courtyard. Despite the billowing cloak she recognized his movement. “Shianan! Wait a moment!”
He must not have heard her through the wind, for he didn’t slow. He was going toward his office and quarters, and she cut the angle to meet him. “Shianan!”
His head lifted and turned slightly toward her, but the sheltering hood shaded his face. “My lady mage.”
“Oh, don’t be so formal. We’re old friends.”
Speaking would make it too real. She couldn’t say it yet, and not in the street where all could see.
“I was going for something to eat. Do you have a few minutes?” She took a step around him, trying to find his eyes. “Here, stand still. I can hardly see you.”
“No,” he began, and his hand moved from beneath the cloak. But Ariana had already caught sight of his expression. He blinked and looked away. “No, I’m afraid I won’t join you in a meal.”
“You look as if someone had died,” she said bluntly. “What’s wrong? Did your meeting with the prince go badly?”
“The prince?” Shianan repeated. “Oh, no, I could not meet with him, after all; I was summoned elsewhere.” He glanced down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s nothing.”
“I am a Mage of the Circle,” Ariana said firmly, pressing down her quick doubt, “trained to face rampaging Ryuven, and the sourest expression you might produce could not frighten me. And don’t lie to me. If we’re friends enough to call one another by name, we’re friends enough to be honest. This isn’t nothing—you look like a kicked dog. What happened?”
Shianan winced and then sighed. “I’m sorry, my lady mage. Ariana. I’m not at my best presently.”
Her stomach clenched as she remembered what she should never have seen. She reached for his hand and folded it in hers. “Then come with me and think of something else for a few minutes, at least. Have you eaten?”
He made a face. “I’m not even close to hungry.”
“Well, come with me while I find something, anyway, and we can at least keep one another company.” She gently tugged him after her. “You don’t even have to talk, if you don’t want to. I can tell you all about distilling the dust of inferior gems and ordinary inks into a new ink to draw out runes and sigils without the need to finish them magically. Isn’t that fascinating? Isn’t that worth staying in the weather to hear?” She gave him a self-deprecating grin.
He smiled tiredly. “Of course, my lady mage. And at the moment I could listen to you recite the runic alphabet, if there is such a thing.”
“There is, but probably not in the way you’re thinking of it.”
“I don’t care. You can say it backward and I won’t know the difference. Just keep talking.” He glanced down at the hand she still held. “I think I’m glad you spotted me.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “If you’re not eating, would you rather watch me eat a pork pie or the leg of some sort of fowl?”
He hesitated and then gave a long sigh. “The little goodwife with the cart at the northeast corner outside the gate has an excellent mutton pie. I’d recommend that. And you need a cup of ale from the Hawking Babe.”
“I haven’t been there. Is it so good?”
“Very good.” He flexed his fingers within hers and finally curled them about her hand. “I’ll treat you to a taste.”
Ariana desperately dredged her mind to chat amiably of unimportant things as they walked, about the ink they were developing, new pendants to hold mage healing for future use, how she was frustrated she had nothing new to contribute and longed for some magical breakthrough that would make them all notice her. That veered dangerously close to her fresh fear, but she fought to keep her tone light, pretending all was as it had been that morning. He had just come from a private meeting with the king; she couldn’t break her news to him while he was in such a state. “Ranne and Bethia gave me a lovely welcome party, a little late but official by their declaration—you know Lady Bethia, Duke Devinne’s daughter. She wanted to test for the Circle, but there was only one opening and it went to me. And she’s been quiet about it, but I know she thinks I must have achieved everything at last. I know because my own goal was always to become the Black Mage and finally join the Circle. But now that I’m a part of the Circle, I’m just another low-ranking mage again! So I wish I could develop something really outstanding and be recognized.”
Her throat closed. I wish I could keep my magic and stay in the Circle.
Shianan nodded. “To be recognized, and appreciated, and to be really indispensable.”
She squeezed his hand, chiding herself for her self-pity. No matter what happened with the Circle, her father loved her. “More or less, yes. Are you sure you don’t want a pie?”
He shook his head.
They walked on, and she became aware of his gaze, beginning now to observe her instead of avoid her. “I thought you’d be in the Wheel at this time,” he said, and she thought his words were deceptively light. “How is your work progressing?”
“It’s fine.” And now she’d lied to him, quick and unthinking. She grasped for something that was less false but not yet the awful truth. “I thought I’d go out for a walk, even in the wind, and try to clear my head.”
“Are you tired?”
“No, I—I haven’t been sleeping well. I have dreams, but I can’t remember them.” That was true at least, if incomplete.
“What kind of—”
“I can’t remember them, I said,” Ariana interrupted, more sharply than she’d meant to. “Look, there she is!”
The short vendor gave her a warm pie and a friendly if gappy smile, and they started for the tavern Shianan had mentioned.
“It’s been a long while,” Ariana said, breaking off a piece of the pie and watching the released steam curl into the air. “Maybe you could come some night for supper again.”
“You’re inviting me?”
“I thought you were buying me an ale. Can’t I then invite you for supper?” She proffered the chunk of pie. “Would you like a bite, at least?”
He started to answer, hesitated, and then gave her an embarrassed grin. “It does smell good.”
She felt better now he’d relaxed enough to accept food. “Take it. And tell me how the soldiers are doing—in their training, I mean. Don’t you have some sort of royal review coming soon?”
“Yes, for the Founding Festival. They’ll need to present themselves well, and most of them I think will do it. There are only a few I might need to assign to clean privies that day, to keep them from sight.” He paused and glanced at the sign over them, a painted raptor bearing a chubby infant on its back. “Here’s our tavern.”
He ordered two ales and led her to a corner away from the midday press. She tasted her drink. “This is good! I’m glad I found you.”
He glanced at her and then down at the table. “So am I. I mean, for lunch. And—well, as you saw, I wasn’t in a pleasant mood. Thank you for tolerating me, and for helping to alleviate it.”
He was helping her at least as much. “What did he want? Or may you tell?”
“Who?”
“The king.” She hesitated. “If it’s something you can’t discuss, or don’t wish to, that’s fine, of course.”
He stared at her. “I didn’t think I’d told you I’d seen the king.”
“Only the king could call you away from the prince.” And she had seen him in a similar despondency once before.
“Clever.” He sighed. “It’s—nothing to trouble you. Please don’t worry over it.” He smiled wanly and took a drink of his ale.
She wouldn’t press. “So when will you meet with His Highness?”
Shianan frowned. “I was going back to my office. He said to come when I could and, well, you saw my state of mind.”
“But if—that means the prince-heir gave you an open invitation, Shianan! That must mean something. You should go.”
He looked thoughtful. “You think...”
“I think if Prince Soren asks you to visit when you may, you certainly may. He seemed friendly enough last night, no?”
Shianan nodded. “I have only paperwork this afternoon, and that’s even more distasteful than waiting upon royalty.”
Ariana chuckled. “And with that bald confession, I know we’re truly friends. Let’s finish our drinks. You should go to the prince, and I should test my ink.”
They walked back to the fortress without speaking, but it was not the terse silence of before. Ariana glanced at Shianan and thought unexpectedly of their journey across the mountains to bring the Shard. She had not thought then that the cool, upright commander might become a trusted and trusting friend.
Except they were each keeping secrets from the other even now. Not because she did not trust him; rather, she craved the normalcy of being with him and not thinking of what had happened, without him looking at her differently, and she couldn’t pour her grief over his depression. Still, it felt like she had trusted him more when she had known him less, burying dead farmers in the mountains.
But he had shown glimpses of his true nature even then. He had come to rescue her when Tamaryl was first revealed, risking himself and the Shard, and then refrained from killing at Ariana’s urging. He’d treated Tam’s wounded shoulder though he knew the boy was a hated enemy.
Tam... She’d been trying very hard to avoid thinking of Tam. She missed him a dozen times a day: returning to her home without his boyish welcome, visiting her father’s workroom without its short famulus, thinking of the Ryuven. He had been a part of their household for as long as she could remember, and then he had been a family secret, and then he had been a friend in a distant, hostile world.
And he had hinted at feelings for her, but he had gone before she could even determine her response. She felt unsettled, as if they had unfinished business—but that did nothing to assuage the aching hole he’d left as the friendly young member of her household she’d known all her life.
Shianan’s fingers brushed hers and retracted. She glanced at him, unsure if the contact had been deliberate, but he looked straight ahead as he asked, “Would you like me to walk you to the Wheel?”
She shook her head. “The prince’s office is nearer. The Wheel is out of your way.” Belatedly she wondered if she should have accepted, but she had been thinking faintly of Tamaryl’s discomfiting final words to her.
Unfinished business. Aching farewell. Tam and her magic, both gone. She swallowed against the rising lump in her throat, and her pulse began to pound in her ears. Irrational feelings, grief for what had not died, coming when she was unprepared—
Shianan nodded stiffly. “Then I’ll turn off here.” He stopped at the stone arch which marked the end of the common yard and faced Ariana. “Thanks. For walking with me, I mean.”
“It was my pleasure, thank you. And now I must get back to work. Magical ink, you know.” She mimed busywork and forced a grin she did not feel. “Now that the shield’s up and the war’s over, we’ll have to make ourselves useful in other ways. No more Ryuven to fight.”
Shianan’s eyes flicked away and he swallowed visibly. “How’s Tam? Is he gone?”
The question struck Ariana hard. “He’s—” She gulped, her throat closing. “He’s gone—oh, no.” Tears brimmed at her eyes and she rubbed at them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why—”
“What?” Shianan looked almost frightened. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Everything converged at once upon the fragile dam she had put up, and the humiliating tears broke loose. “Oh, this is awful!” She turned away. “I shouldn’t cry, not for this. Not for Tam.” Her words blurred in her uneven breathing.
Shianan’s hands reached for her but hesitated, hovering uncertainly. “What happened?” he repeated.
“Everything! The shield and the Ryuven world and everything. My magic—helpless.” She shoved tears from her eyes. “And he said—no, I can’t say—and when the shield—and he kissed me, and I wasn’t expecting—I was off guard... The mages were at the door, but he just—and I can’t talk about it, not even with my father, because I don’t think he knows, and—”
“Ariana!” Shianan seized her upper arms, fingers squeezing too hard. “Ariana, did that Ryuven touch—did he—to you...?”
Ariana stared at him for an eternal instant, unable even to sob as she tried to comprehend what he asked. He thought—he thought Tam had—
He heard nothing she said, only his own twisted imagination of what Tam had done, that it had been like the terrible attack on Maru—
She threw her arms out, shoving him backward. “How dare you?” she demanded. Tam would never hurt her as Daranai had hurt Maru. “How dare you accuse him so!” She could not speak beyond that. Angry, helpless, useless tears overcame her and she bolted, fleeing across the courtyard and pulling her concealing hood close as she went.