"Isn't this a school?" Travin spoke in a whisper, partly from horror and partly to avoid drawing undue attention to himself.
He, Dareg and Sidia were surrounded by armed soldiers. Each had their hands on their swords, eyes on the street and on the magin trio.
"You'll be escorted for your own protection," Captain Canstin had said.
No one was fooled. None of them said anything, but they'd exchanged glances when the captain looked away. Sidia was white faced and Dareg resolute. Neither had said much overnight, nor had any of the other magin. With no exceptions, they kept to themselves, usually sitting in their teams, but saying little. Travin tried to speak to several of them, but none had offered more than a word or two in reply. They all seemed nervous, jumpy even.
When the soldiers spoke, the magin hurried to comply with their orders. When lights out was called a couple of hours after dark, all illumination was extinguished in moments. They didn't need to call for silence, that fell with the lighting.
None of the magin, as far as Travin could tell, had been beaten or harmed in any way. At least not in any physical way. Whatever forced them to behave must be strong indeed. He suspected there was more than the threat of death hanging over their heads. That might work for him, but it wouldn't cow everyone.
A man like Kial, for example, would die before he bent like these people. Not, he mused, that Kial would have lived long enough to end up here. If the general ever caught him— assuming he wasn't dead—he wouldn't be alive for long.
Loyalty only got a person so far though. Travin doubted these people owed loyalty to General Sandvaal. What did they owe him then? How was his hold over them so firm? Travin had a few guesses, but he hated the assumptions his mind brewed up.
Truthfully, he didn't think Sandvaal would balk at anything to get his way.
"Yes, it's a school for junior children," Dareg replied, reminding Travin he'd asked the question in the first place.
Travin swallowed. After the children were finished here, they'd enter apprenticeships or work doing whatever job they could find. Some went on to senior school, where they'd train to become teachers or healers. Few went on though. Not many families could afford to have children who weren't out earning braids. The students here then, would be young.
"What are we doing here?" Travin stared at the warm stone and light timber of the schoolhouse, the welcoming facade suddenly chilling.
Sidia gave him a disbelieving look, but said nothing. Dareg's chin was lowered, eyes averted. This was as rattled as Travin had seen him. What had either of them seen and done that they maintained any sort of self-control? Travin wanted to bolt, to disappear down the street, even if running meant an arrow in his back.
He curled his hands into fists and quickly relaxed them again. Inhaling and exhaling, he forced himself to calm. He hadn't come this far to die on outside a school in Paryos.
Seeing no other choice, Travin followed Sidia and Dareg inside. They were ushered into a bright, sunny classroom. The desks had been pushed aside, against a wall. Three remained in the centre of the room.
"Sit on the end." Dareg pointed. "They'll come to you last."
"They?" Travin almost fell into a chair as he realised what they were doing here. "Haze, they're not really going to—"
"Shhh," Sidia urged. Her skin had turned slightly green.
"It's all right Sidia, he needs to know." Dareg sat between them. "The children will come past us. One by one."
Travin's stomach churned as the first group of children was brought in. They couldn't have been more than five or six years old. Judging by the grins on their faces, they thought this was some great game.
"Youma is first," the teacher said, leading her young charge up to the desk. "Hold your hand out Youma." Her expression was one of thinly veiled disapproval, but she still ushered her students forward.
Sidia touched Youma's hand with hers. The magin woman's hand shook. "I see nothing," she said softly.
"My turn," Dareg said, as if he was trying to make the experience fun for the children. "I feel nothing too. How about that?" He gave Youma a smile. She returned it with a grin, showing missing teeth.
"Go on to Travin next," Dareg said, "he won't bite." He winked and the little girl giggled.
"I save my biting for food," Travin said. His voice sounded unexpectedly even in his ears.
Youma giggled and held out her hand. It was small, soft and warm. A far cry from the calloused hands of the labourers locked in the cells in Tsaisa.
Travin focused for a moment, but exhaled softly. "I feel nothing too." Not even the slightest tingle of magic.
"All right Youma, step aside," the teacher said, giving a nod and drawing the next young student forward.
One by one, the children filed past, with the same result. None of the magin found magic in any of them. Travin watched them carefully at first, uncertain as to whether they were telling the truth or not. Sidia, he decided, was too fearful to lie. Dareg was either an honest man or a good liar. As for himself, well he had nothing to hide until the third last child—a boy.
"Gryffun, it's your turn." By the now the teacher's tone was weary. The magin weren't welcome in her classroom, and they were taking up valuable learning time.
Travin appreciated her frustration, but knowing there were no magin children here would keep them safe from General Sandvaal.
Gryffun had a round face with a snub nose and as many freckles as the night sky held stars. His blue eyes held a mischievous glint. He smiled slyly with his wide mouth as he marched up and presented his hand to Sidia.
Travin met the teacher's eyes and she rolled hers a little. Travin chuckled. Gryffun looked like he might be the class handful, but he obviously didn't lack in confidence. There was certainly nothing wrong with that. It was more endearing on a young child than on a general.
"I feel nothing," Sidia declared. She was starting to look weary. The pressure of this testing was clearly telling on her. Thank haze it was almost over.
"Nothing," Dareg said, sounding bored.
Gryffun sidestepped over to Travin, gave him a cheeky grin and held out his hand. The moment their skin touched, a tingle passed between them. Travin didn't want to believe it, but the surprise on the little boy's face spoke for them both.
"Your hand feels funny." Gryffun snatched his back.
"Travin?" Dareg asked, eyes creased in concern.
"I…" Travin licked his lips as one of the soldiers stepped closer. "He's a toucher." The words came unbidden. Everyone in the room knew something had passed between them.
Gryffun looked at his hand. "I'm a magin," he declared. He waved his hand in the air for his classmates to see. "I'm a magin!"
"Yes, you are." The soldier loomed over him. "You get to come with us."
"Where too?" For the first time, Gryffun appeared nervous.
"Somewhere special."
Gryffun backed up. "I don't know, my Mama might get mad."
"Your mother will be there too," the solder said.
"It'll be all right," the teacher assured him. Her face was pensive, uncertain; a mirror of Travin's emotions.
"What are you doing with him?" Travin asked on the way back to the general's new headquarters.
The soldier looked at him over his shoulder. "That's nothing for you to concern yourself with."
Travin watched the boy's back as he walked between two other soldiers. He'd been the only magin they'd found.
To his credit, Gryffun didn't seem scared at all. He was smiling and laughing with the men, as though he was excited to be chosen. Maybe he was. They did seem to be trying to make him feel special.
Travin opened his mouth to argue with the soldier, but Sidia gave him a warning look. He closed it again but sighed to himself. Maybe the general would talk to the boy and then have him help the way Travin was. The doubt in the back of his mind was more than a slight niggle.
He held his peace until they arrived back in the barracks. Gryffun was ushered off to another section, now looking anxious.
With their guards out of earshot, Travin sat beside Dareg and asked, "Do you know where they'll take him?"
Dareg shrugged. "Depends who you believe. Some say they're taken to a place like this. For what—I don't know."
"And others?" Travin wasn't sure he wanted to hear.
"I heard they found some older folk, took 'em west and hanged 'em. Wanted to show what happens to magin. Make an example of 'em I suppose." Dareg gave little sign of what he thought of this, just a downward quirk of one side of his mouth. "I don't know the truth of it," he admitted.
"Right." There must be more to it than that. They could have been be Rosharias' people, fled after the war. Or…any number of other reasons. They might not even be magin, just people who had committed a terrible crime. Surely no one would hang a child?
Travin swallowed.
"It's best you don't ask," Sidia said, sitting on his other side. "That just makes trouble for all of us."
"You're all right with them doing this?" Travin asked.
She averted her eyes. "Of course not. I just… There's people back home." She shook her head and wouldn't say any more.
He wouldn't push her, partly because they'd just met and partly because he had his own troubles. Added to that, his suspicion that if he got too close to anyone, they'd be split up. They might be watched, and held under duress, but they were still magin. Anything which looked like plotting would put them all under suspicion.
"Keep your nose clean," Dareg advised.
"Or what?"
"I don't know, but I don't reckon it'll be pleasant." Dareg gave a sage nod of his head.
Travin wondered what Laynin and Ara would make of all this. They had given up so much to help win the war. He couldn't imagine they'd done it so things could end up like this. Then of course there was Luthin and Zannis, who had lost their lives for Dargyn. Surely they had striven for freedom, not so magin could be locked away, or used as tools to find other magin.
The last rays of sun arced through the window, lighting the room on fire, before disappearing and leaving them in the gloom of dusk.
It took Travin's mood with it. He slipped into despair. He should have run when he could. His little cave in the ravine near Tsaisa was welcoming compared to this. He might be physically warmer, and fed here, but it was a gilded cage at best.
Punishment for being magin and trusting the wrong man.
He drew his knees up to his chin and rested his head on them. Visions of a freckled face swam in his mind, but instead of seeing him laughing and playing as he should be, he saw the boy at the end of a rope.
A tear slipped down his cheek. He kept his face hidden from the others. Every drop felt like blood, but not his. It belonged to a small boy whose life might be gone so he could keep his own.