They really had to get more magicians trained up and some designated mirrors in place for these long-distance communications between their cities. Doing all of it through the dragons was as tedious as plucking all the hairs off a meuritta. Nolan didn’t find it so, but Nolan could communicate directly with the dragons. Trev’nor and Becca were the ones who wanted to pull their hair out. The delay in communicating back and forth with Nolan acting as their medium could be anywhere between fifteen seconds to fifteen minutes, depending on the length of the message.
Today’s session they spoke with Sagar, and while it appeared they had nothing serious to report, they did have a few issues to clear up. Trev’nor waited patiently for the messages, trying not to yawn or think too much about food. This late in the evening, he could either go for food or sleep, depending.
Something loud happened outside, multiple voices rising in either anger or fear, and Trev’nor shot up to his feet automatically. He couldn’t hear it clearly through the office walls, but he could certainly tell something bad had gone down.
“That does not sound good,” Becca observed in worry, also rising, going to stick her head out of the doorway. With the door open, the voices grew sharper and more distinct, the language in the rough Khobuntish slang the soldiers favored. “Cat, what’s going on?”
“Bad fight,” Cat mourned, sounding more sorrowful than anything. “Soldiers and magicians fight.”
Swearing, Trev’nor glanced at Nolan, who instantly gestured for them to go ahead. Trusting him to take care of Sagar’s minor issues, Trev’nor immediately left the office, right on Becca’s heels. The shouting lowered to an unhappy murmur, which conversely worried him even more. What had happened to stop them?
They barely got down the street when Danyal appeared, running for them, although he skidded to a halt at their approach. “Raya, Raja, we’ve had an incident.”
“Incident is not a word I like, Danyal,” Becca growled, her agitation clear in the sharp tones in her voice. “It usually means trouble I won’t approve of. What happened?”
Wincing, Danyal tried to keep a stoic face on. “Some of the men were being a little too rough on our magicians. The magicians tried to appease them at first, then one of them argued back, and it became physical. Garth fortunately stopped it before things could escalate.”
Trev’nor saw red. The Alred magicians were still with them, as they hadn’t the time to take them to Q’atal just now, and so they’d carted them along up to Rheben. Of everyone they’d rescued, he felt more than a little partial to this group, as he’d shed blood saving them and still felt guilty down to his core for not being able to save all of them. To think that some of his own men were tormenting them even further….
Magic sparked around Becca in a visible flash of light before she clamped down on her temper. “Lead me there.”
Distinctly uneasy, Danyal obediently turned and moved off at a quick walk, fast enough that Trev’nor nearly had to jog to keep up with the man. They left the main street and went into the kitchen area, three buildings that surrounded a fountain courtyard. Everyone had voted to keep it for a mess hall, as it was one of the most structurally sound areas in the city and by far the prettiest. It didn’t look at all tranquil and inviting now, not with multiple soldiers standing uneasily in groups and the magicians huddled in the far corner.
Without thinking, Trev’nor immediately went to them, stroking Garth’s neck as he walked past in greeting. The dragon turned his head slightly to watch his rider but said nothing. Trev’nor focused on one of the women, a witch he knew by name, and used the gentlest tone he could muster. “Halia, what happened? Who’s hurt?”
“The soldiers wouldn’t eat with us,” she responded, edging out of her protective clutch around her daughter, her hand reaching out for his sleeve but not quite touching. Her dark eyes darted nervously over to the side, teeth catching her bottom lip and worrying at it. “They said we didn’t have the right to eat first. We argued, of course, that wasn’t what you told us. Then they punched Sameel, and my daughter screamed for the dragons, and Garth came instantly to stop it all. Trev’nor, we can eat with the soldiers, can’t we?”
“You can,” he assured her firmly, catching that uncertain hand and squeezing her fingers reassuringly. “You were right to argue with them and they were very, very wrong to even try and stop you. Sameel, are you alright? Where are you hurt?”
Sameel had twenty years on him at least, but still ducked his head deferentially, the area around his right eye already bruising into a molten pattern of different colors. “I’m alright, Raja, I’ve had worse.”
“I will fix this,” Trev’nor swore to them. “Go ahead and eat, no one will stop you.”
When they nodded, still a little hesitant and uncertain, Trev’nor felt like killing something. He turned and stomped toward the group of soldiers who were on their knees, clearly the guilty party, before he started glaring at the wrong people. He could feel his magic writhing under his skin, reacting to his emotions, and had to physically fight to get it back under control. It had been a while since he’d felt this kind of rage.
Becca stood in front of the five kneeling soldiers, arms crossed over her chest, feet shoulder length apart, glaring down at them as if they were insects she’d just peeled off the bottom of her shoe. “Did I hear that right? You told our magicians that they didn’t have the right to eat first? Or eat with you?”
All of the men looked uneasily at the dirt, refusing to answer her.
“ANSWER ME!” she thundered, her voice ringing off the walls.
Everyone watching jumped, and not just because she yelled. Visible sparks and waves of golden magic swirled around Becca, a magical manifestation of her temper on the rise.
“My Warlord.” Danyal walked right into that whirl of magic, braving what no sane man would, and put his hand on her shoulder. “Calm yourself, please. Angry people do not make wise decisions.”
Some part of Trev’nor witnessed this and had to hand it to the man. Danyal certainly knew no fear. But the rest of him agreed one hundred percent with his co-ruler and felt like bashing a few things.
Becca took in a deep breath and let it shakily out again, her magic calming, although it lay over her form like a glowing halo. And not in a good way. “I am well aware that not all of you share our agenda. That some of you joined with our army because it was the best option available to you, in order to maintain your freedom. I don’t ask that you understand what we’re doing, but I do demand that you respect it. People are not cattle, they are not worms for you to squash under your feet, and you do not get to put yourself above former slaves just because they once wore chains. I,” she pounded a fist to her chest, voice rising in crescendo, “wore those same chains.”
“We both did,” Trev’nor informed the quaking shoulders coldly. “And we won’t forgive this kind of attitude. I, personally, will not forgive anyone that hurts these people. I fought to free them and have the scar to prove it. You dare trample on what I fought to protect?”
Danyal, either fool hardy or brave, cleared his throat and offered, “I believe that they didn’t think that far, Warlord. I believe it was habit more than anything. I make no excuse for them, but please calm yourself as well. I don’t wish the earth under our feet to suddenly upheave.”
Only then did he realize that his magic, too, had gone a little out of control. It swirled around him, ready and eager to destroy something, just waiting to be released. Taking in a deep breath, Trev’nor sought to calm himself and found it far harder than it should have been. He hadn’t been this angry since Rurick.
“Danyal.” Becca didn’t take her eyes off the men, voice flat. “I believe that military law states that anyone who disobeys a direct order is to be fined for a minor offense or incarcerated for a major one. I believe under the definition, this falls under the ‘minor’ category, am I right?”
Whirling on her, Trev’nor slashed a hand through the air. “No. I will not have this settle on a fine.”
“Trev, I can’t justify incarcerating the men,” Becca argued, looking distinctly unhappy with her own words. “The wording of the regulations is fairly clear on this.”
Stepping in closer to her, he switched to Chahirese, leaving everyone else out of this conversation. “I do not want our soldiers to think that this is something they can get by with. You really think that a simple fine will correct this behavior?”
“I don’t, but I can’t incarcerate them for this, Trev’nor. If we don’t uphold the laws that we ourselves made, then that makes us as bad as the rulers we replaced,” she argued back, voice low and heated. “We can’t change the rules just because we’re angry.”
“Then maybe the rule needs to be changed. I don’t agree with a fine.”
“I can’t change the regulations on the spot, either,” she retorted, temper flaring again. “Think, you idiot. Doing that doesn’t make it any better.”
Throwing a finger toward the watching magicians, he hissed, “I will not have them abused by our own soldiers. I won’t tolerate this, Becca.”
“You think I like it?” she hissed back, like a coiled snake ready to strike.
“Stop, stop.” Shad appeared between them, waving a hand down in a chopping motion. “Time out. Becca, I agree that a fine is not enough, there was physical damage done to one of them. You and Danyal put your heads together and get creative. Trev’nor, come with me.”
Trev’nor snapped around, a retort ready to fly. He absolutely refused to move until he had this settled the way he wanted.
Grabbing him by the arm, Shad ordered with a smile that was all teeth: “Now, Warlord.”
He knew that tone. Ten years of being Shad’s student, of obeying the man unquestioningly, kicked in like a habit or an instinct. He followed without arguing, still steaming mad and wanting to do damage.
Shad led them far away from the kitchen area, down a road he hadn’t repaired yet on the opposite side of the gate, well away from the area they’d made camp in. Only when they were far enough away to be out of earshot did he stop and turn again. Sympathy reflected in his eyes. “Trev. I know you’re angry. I have a feeling I know why, as well.”
“Because those five did something inexcusable,” Trev’nor snarled, slamming a fist against the outer wall and leaving a crater behind. Shrieking hinges, he’d have to repair that later.
“That, I agree on. I don’t think anyone would disagree. But your anger, and Becca’s, is a little too extreme for the situation. I know Alred Watchtower was bad, young’in. I can see it in the way you flinch, the sad way Becca looks at the city. How bad was it?”
None of them had been able to bring themselves to talk about it. Even now, Trev’nor didn’t, but the rational part of his mind realized he had to. Shad wouldn’t know what Riyu was really capable of if they didn’t tell him. Woodenly, he rattled out the explanation without taking a single breath. “Riyu left standing orders that if we approached, they were to use the slaves as hostages. He had them in cages all around the top of the watchtower and along the top of the gates. If we still attacked, they were to kill the rest of the slaves still in the pens, then kill any non-essential civilians left in the city.”
Shad’s head fell back and his eyes closed, sickened and resigned all at once. “No wonder everyone hates that man. What did you do?”
“We attacked. Garth dropped me onto the roof of the watchtower as a night drop. I went through the ceiling—” Trev’nor choked on the rest of the words, unable to force them past a constricted throat. Even now, he still relieved that moment in his dreams and every morning he woke up with tears smeared all over his face.
“Trev’nor.” Shad wrapped him up in a hug, his embrace tight, murmuring words of comfort against his ear. “I know you did all you could, saved as many as you could.”
“We shouldn’t have done it,” Trev’nor choked. “If I’d known you were coming, we would have waited. You’re so much faster than I am, they all would be alive if you were the one to go in—”
Pulling back, Shad gave him an odd look. “Wait, now, hold on. I know I’m faster than you are, but Trev, I can’t move inhumanely fast. And it sounds like that’s what it would have taken. How many levels did you have to go through, how many soldiers did you have to face?”
“Three levels, about twenty soldiers, but—”
“Whoa, whoa, three levels? You fought through three levels? Twenty soldiers, by yourself?”
“Well, no, Garth helped. He came in from the outside.”
“You seriously think that I could have done better in that scenario?” Shad demanded incredulously. “Kid, you were in a kill box! A really tall kill box, I grant you, but that’s worse than a fatal funnel, you know? In fact, I think a watchtower is more a combination of a kill box on top of a fatal funnel, which is the worst combination in history. Even if I had been with you, we still would have had to clear each level one at a time. You couldn’t have dropped me through on my own, I’m not an Earth Mage, you’d have to go with me through each roof.”
Trev’nor’s mouth opened to protest, then he stopped and really thought about. The angles, the logistics, the timing it would take to bring a passenger along in that scenario.
“You just realized I’m right, didn’t you? Now, I grant you, we might have been able to save more if I’d been with you. The two of us together, we would have been able to clear each level faster. But Trev, you didn’t know I was coming. You can only make the best decision on the information you have at the time, you can’t predict the future. No one’s blaming you for doing the best you can, right?”
“I blame me,” Trev’nor whispered.
“Why are you blaming yourself for what evil men did?” Shad rebuffed him gently. “Did you take a sword to those people? Did you kill them? No, right? The only thing you’re guilty of, Rhebentrev’noren, is saving people.”
Trev’nor turned away, scrubbing his face with his hands, eyes still hot with unshed tears. It all made sense, what Shad said. His heart just couldn’t accept it.
“Trev, the hardest person to be angry with is yourself, and I think that’s the problem here. You and Becca are still very angry about Alred, feeling like you didn’t make the best decision, that you could have done something differently. I think you made the best decision you could at the time. Did you know about that standing order before you breached the city?”
“No,” Trev’nor admitted hesitantly. “No, we only knew about the hostages.”
“So you personally went to safeguard the ones you knew needed your protection. Nothing wrong with that. Let’s lay the appropriate blame at the right door, shall we?” Shad grabbed his shoulder and shook him gently. “And let’s not put our guilt on other people.”
Blowing out a breath, Trev’nor looked up at the sky blindly for a long time, feeling his anger cool as he did so. As much as he wanted to argue with Shad, his mentor made entirely too much sense, and he found he couldn’t even scrape up a word in contradiction. “Since when were you wise, Shad?”
“Hey, I have my moments. Don’t you roll your eyes at me, I’m your illustrious mentor, remember?”
“Right. Illustrious,” Trev’nor agreed deadpan, taking in a fortifying breath. “Come on, illustrious mentor, let’s go see what my co-ruler has decided to do.”
Shad fell into step with him, studying him from the corner of his eyes. “You’re going to let her decide?”
“Yup. For two reasons: One, she’s calmer than I am at the moment, so her judgement’s going to be fairer. Two, the army is kind of Becca’s domain. I’ve learned not to mess with it, she demands more respect from the soldiers than I do.”
“Hmmm,” Shad hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder why?”
“She was the first to salute them back, the first to put on a uniform. I think that’s why.” Trev’nor kind of regretted not doing either, now. He’d had to earn their respect the hard way and he wasn’t convinced he had it yet.
They returned to the courtyard and found that the watching crowd had more or less dispersed. The magicians sat gathered around two different tables, eating slowly, and the rest of the soldiers carefully gave them space. Becca stood near the courtyard gate, talking quietly with Danyal, but at his approach she stopped and watched him warily.
Opening his arms to her, he silently invited her in for a hug, sighing in relief when she instantly went to him, hugging him without hesitation. Folding her in, he whispered against the top of her head, “Sorry.”
“I know, I know. You don’t need to say anything else.”
“Whatever you decide to do in punishment, I’m alright with it. I trust your judgement.”
Still wary, she stepped back and informed him slowly, “I fined them three months of pay and put them on latrine duty for a month.”
“Alright,” he agreed. Privately, he felt like that wasn’t quite enough, but he didn’t fully trust himself right at that moment.
“That’s it? No argument?”
Shaking his head, he assured her, “No argument. I apparently have too much anger and guilt left over from Alred. I just want to kill anything that hurts them.”
“I know, and it’s worse coming from our own side, but Trev—I promise you, this won’t happen again. The way we reacted sent a message loud and clear to our soldiers. They treat the magicians with respect, or they incur both our wraths.”
“They won’t dare to repeat this behavior again,” Danyal assured them both. “Thank you, Raja, for keeping your temper.”
“Fortunately Shad talked sense into me,” Trev’nor replied with a crooked smile. “Becca, I think I need to eat dinner with everyone here. Can you handle the rest of the meeting with Nolan?”
“I will, don’t worry about it. You’re right, they need some moral support right now.” She gave him another quick hug, then snagged Danyal and retreated back to the office with him.
Trev’nor didn’t actually feel up to sitting down to dinner and acting like things were normal. He really wanted to curl up somewhere and just sleep this off. Shad perhaps sensed this, as he put a supportive arm around his shoulders as he lead the way into the courtyard. “I’ll eat with you.”
Casting him a thankful look, Trev’nor murmured, “I’m so glad you came up.”
“Me too, kid. Me too.”