As recently as Rylin’s first squire years, the ground where the new palace wing stood had been flower gardens. Now it was, for all intents and purposes, a separate building, though it adjoined the palace and mimicked its four-story stone structure complete to green tiled roof. It always irked Rylin that second-rank Altenerai squires were posted before its wide entrance doors. Bad enough that the auxiliary siphoned equipment and mages away from the corps. Surely they could protect their own holdings.
He hid his feelings as he reached the height of the building’s outside stairs and saluted the two spear-bearers on the flagged portico.
Both men returned the salute, and the one on his left stepped forward, a tall, dark-skinned man from the Storm Coast. “Hail, Alten. Do you have an appointment?”
Rylin lifted the wicker basket he carried, heavy with red and yellow fruits and honey-roasted almonds. “I’m visiting an old friend.”
“Is your friend expecting you, sir?”
The youth knew his duty a little too well. “It’s a surprise, Squire.”
The guard nodded reluctantly, the horsehair crest on his parade helmet shaking as he did so. “I’m sorry, Alten. I’ll have to get permission to allow you entry.”
“I’m Altenerai, Squire.” He lifted his left hand and willed his ring to light. “And we wouldn’t want to spoil the lady’s surprise.”
“I’m sorry, Alten. My orders are very clear. Who are you here to see?”
He shut down the ring and lowered his hand. “Tesra Gerenar.”
“I’ll convey your request immediately.”
Not an auspicious start. Rylin stepped back, pretending to study architectural detailing around the cornices while the squire entered the building. He’d left his rooms two hours ago and set out in search of gifts appropriate for courting, although now that he considered the produce, he wondered if he hadn’t delayed this visit so he had more time to let everything Varama had told him sink in.
He’d wasted time, and he was afraid he wasted it now, waiting on a second-rank squire to convey his message. He fretted his plan to get information was feeble. Why would Tesra tell him anything of import, even if he convinced her he’d leave the Altenerai? Maybe she didn’t know anything anyway. He frowned at himself. He wanted a chance to prove himself, didn’t he? A hero of legend wouldn’t be so indecisive.
He started forward the moment the door swung wide. The squire returned with someone Rylin briefly mistook for a fellow alten. He wasn’t, though. The tall, thin man with wheat-colored hair wore a well-fitted khalat, rendered blue by the lengthy curing process to interlock the fibers. But the decorations on the metallic shoulder guards were red, as was the piping along his pants, and a ruby shown on his finger. This, then, was one of the auxiliary’s officers, supposedly of equivalent stature to Altenerai. They didn’t often wear uniforms.
“Alten Rylin?” The fellow smiled without using his eyes. “I’m Exalt Verin. I’m afraid Tesra’s indisposed at the moment, but I’ll be happy to take a message.”
Of course he was. “When will she be free?”
“I’m not really sure.”
He returned that cold smile with a very warm one. “That’s a shame. I’ve a personal matter I need to speak to her about. A rather urgent one. Here.”
Verin blinked and took the basket as Rylin pushed it into his chest.
“Why don’t you carry that in to her, and I’ll come with you.” He walked toward the door.
“I’m really not sure that’s—”
“She won’t mind. And if she’s still too busy, I’m sure she’ll let me know herself.”
Rylin opened the door and walked through, holding it after for Verin, still carrying the basket and looking irresolute. Rylin took in the high stone walls, found them brighter than those in the Altenerai corridors, though he didn’t see why immediately. There were many doors, and ahead were branching halls. Missing were the numerous plaques and cases of mementos to be found in Altenerai corridors. The auxiliary corps had no heroic moments to immortalize.
He knew that his command of the situation was tenuous. And there wasn’t time to look around.
“Tesra will be glad I’ve come,” he insisted. “This is more important than I’ve let on, believe me. Now which way is she?” Rylin started forward.
Verin hurried to match his stride. “It’s really not a good time, Alten. And I’m not sure—”
“How long has the Mage Auxiliary been routinely wearing khalats? I’ve only seen you in them on special occasions.”
“After Alten Kyrkenall killed M’lahna and Kerst it seemed like a good idea.” His eyes held a challenge, as if he expected argument.
“It is,” Rylin agreed. They were coming to an intersection. “Although Cargen’s khalat didn’t seem to do him much good. Which way?”
Verin looked a little off-balance still. Good. “She’s in the Great Hall.” Almost against his will Verin nodded toward a set of oak doors on the right. “But you really shouldn’t interrupt, Alten. I’ve let you come too far already.”
Rylin lifted the basket from his hand. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks.” He glanced briefly at the door as he pushed it, noting it was cut approximately like that on the Altenerai meeting room. Carved into its central panel was a slender feminine figure in a flowing gown, arms upraised, and what appeared to be a fiery sun suspended between her hands. A goddess, then, and from her long hair, perhaps Vedessa, though Rylin knew no story of her carrying the sun.
Inside was a vaster space than he would have guessed. This portion of the hall stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling four stories above. High, wide windows along what would have been the third and fourth floors cast long rectangles of light down upon rows of tables where men and women crouched over glowing, beautiful crystalline things he guessed must be hearthstones while others beside them scribbled on parchment paper. Yet more watched the pendulums of small clocks set beside them.
Beyond the tables stretched row after row of high shelves, and Rylin realized with a start that hearthstones sat upon them all. How many, he could not tell. Certainly more than the dozens he had guessed in existence. There were hundreds, possibly approaching a thousand, each sitting a few feet from its neighbor, and organized on the shelves by color. He’d had no idea that there was a rainbow’s variety of them, from pure white to ebony. And he had no idea how dazzlingly attractive they were, especially the ones under active study.
“Stay here.” This time Verin’s voice held a warning note. He motioned Rylin to a brown flagstone to the left of the door before he walked forward.
At the sound of his footfalls some of the clock watchers and note takers looked up. One fixed him with a long, disapproving stare and he recognized her for the commander of the Mage Auxiliary, Synahla. Her eyes were some of the most striking Rylin had ever seen, their vibrant violet obvious from forty paces out.
Rylin nodded politely, even as he knew what all were thinking. Not only was he uninvited, he was about as welcome as a roach in a flour jar.
And so he fixed a smile on his face, as if he were simply happy to be here and only mildly curious, and watched Verin bend over to consult with one of the women jotting notes.
Tesra.
She had always been pretty. Her black hair, now grown past her shoulders, was pulled away from her forehead by a silver band set with a small ruby. It suited her. He considered that hollow in her neck where he’d liked to kiss her and his smile grew a little more wistful. She seemed softer now. Probably she didn’t have to run drills every day here in the auxiliary.
Her eyes found his. She didn’t return his smile, nor did she look especially pleased when the violet-eyed woman strode over to consult with her. They spoke briefly, and then Synahla took Tesra’s place as Rylin’s old lover walked toward him, motioning Verin to stay behind.
Yes, still fit but a bit curvier, obvious even in the dark gown with the red sash. Red was the Mage Auxiliary’s answer to the sapphire. He wondered if their rings were endowed with the same powers, or if they were somehow different.
Tesra stopped before him, her reaction not the least bit warmed by his welcoming smile. Her voice was hushed. “Rylin, you’re not supposed to be here.”
He lifted the basket. “That’s no way to greet an old friend bearing gifts. My apologies for staying away so long.” He searched her eyes in vain for like feeling.
She took him by the arm and walked him to the door and out. Then she pulled the door shut with her free hand and looked up at him. “We’re in the midst of some delicate studies.”
“I can be delicate,” Rylin quipped. “And studious.”
She sighed, unable to suppress a slight smile. “It’s always nice to see you, of course,” she said, “but not here. And this isn’t a good time.”
He slowly put a hand to her shoulder and considered her with sad gravity. “This is important or I wouldn’t have barged in.”
For the first time, she seemed to be actually looking at him as her old friend. “Nothing’s happened to your brother, has it?”
He remembered how much she’d taken to his brother when he’d visited. “He’s fine. This is about me. I need your help.”
The warmth was still there, but more guarded.
“I want … I need…” He looked away, as if he were embarrassed. He spoke softly. “I’m thinking about leaving the Altenerai.”
She was very lovely indeed as she watched him with widened eyes. “But why?”
He shook his head, and spoke to her about all of his true misgivings. “It’s just not what I expected. Half the officers don’t even turn up for meetings. The veterans barely talk to us. And Kyrkenall … Well. It feels like the Altenerai are fading. I want to be part of something greater.”
What did that look of hers mean? She was debating.
He spoke on. “Remember what you told me when you left? That the Mage Auxiliary would tremendously improve our understanding of sorcery. Has it? Have you gotten better?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. Rylin, it’s been amazing—” She fell silent, for the door to the Great Hall opened behind her and violet-eyed Synahla swept out. She had at least ten years on Tesra, but carried it well, and he admired the cut of dark pants against wide hips, and the white blouse tucked tight into the band to better accentuate her small waist. Those beautiful eyes appraised him with little warmth, but she presented her ruby-ringed hand as she stepped forward.
“Alten Rylin, isn’t it? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
He enjoyed the pressure of slim fingers against his wrist, and returned her greeting clasp.
“I hope Tesra has explained to you that we’re on a schedule?”
“A schedule for what?” Rylin asked innocently.
“I was going to, Commander,” Tesra said quickly, “but Rylin has come to see us about joining the auxiliary.”
“You have?” The commander arched an eyebrow at him.
“I’ve been considering it for a long time. Ever since I got the ring, actually.” As Rylin wasn’t entirely convinced that the Mage Auxiliary was an enemy of Darassus, he was attempting to tread a narrow path and say few if any outright lies. There was, in fact, a fair bit of truth to his words, for he really had been disappointed by the lack of chances to do anything meaningful. The promise of greater magical training if he’d transitioned to the auxiliary had been a tempting lure during his squire days, and he’d often wondered afterward about the path not taken. “The Altenerai Corps’s not what I expected.”
Still she stared. He’d always thought he’d know if someone were reading or mazing him, and was unsettled by the sudden notion he might be entirely wrong. The people within this building had spent years doing little but honing their craft and working with the hearthstones, which were said to enhance any magical gifts. Could the commander skim his surface thoughts without detection? Would it matter that his ring would alert him if the warning came after she learned the truth?
“I’ve grown more and more frustrated,” he admitted, which was entirely true. “And I’ve been thinking about the offer I was extended as a fourth ranker. When Tesra herself stepped over.”
Synahla’s response was cool. “Coming over now is a different matter, Alten. There would be … repercussions.”
“I know.”
“Have you spoken with Denaven?”
“I’d rather this be kept quiet for a time,” he said. “I hadn’t wished to inform you yet, either, Commander.” He gave her his best apologetic look, but she wasn’t having any of that.
Her tone grew biting. “Were you planning to tell me after you joined?”
“I assumed we’d talk eventually.”
“Of course. You’re aware that no one’s permitted within the auxiliary’s Great Hall without express permission? That includes Altenerai.”
“I had no idea. Verin should have mentioned it.”
“Verin was ill-equipped for your forceful personality. I see you’re a man who’s used to getting his way. Either through inclination or accumulated arrogance you think you can simply charm your way past any challenge. It’s not that easy, Alten. You were a minor magical worker, at best, five years ago.”
Minor?
“My ranks are full with talented mages who never hesitated to join. Why should I welcome you? The only reason you could be coming, now, is that you’re embarrassed by your own corps. As you should be. Its days are over, and if you’d shown Tesra’s wisdom when you were a squire you’d have seen that circumstances like these were inevitable.”
Tesra alternated looking between her commander and Rylin, clearly troubled. He understood how she felt. Unless he changed the tenor of this conversation, and quickly, his assignment was a failure. A wink and a smile might have worked with Tesra, but it wasn’t going to get him past Commander Synahla.
“You must think very little of me, Commander.” He passed his gift basket off to Tesra. “Maybe I am used to getting what I want. That doesn’t mean I haven’t worked hard to earn it. I admit I crave glory. Who doesn’t? But if you think I became Altenerai solely because of misplaced loyalty to the corps, or some failure of foresight, you’re wrong. I swore to my father I’d never give up until I had earned the sapphire. And I held to that oath. Tesra can confirm the truth of it.”
Tesra finally rejoined the conversation. “It’s true, Commander. Rylin was torn, but he felt honor-bound to keep his word.”
“Your dead father, I suppose?” Synahla asked.
He was tempted to play up the dramatic potential of the situation, or to act affronted, but he merely held open, empty palms. “I’m a man of my word, Commander.” He didn’t mention that he had emphasized that oath when talking with Tesra all those years ago because he’d long since decided to remain with the Altenerai. The tragedy of lovers torn apart by circumstance had been immensely appealing to her at the time.
Synahla’s voice wasn’t quite as cold as she spoke on. “What of your Altenerai oath, Alten? Didn’t you swear to hold to it until your death?”
“‘If this be my numbered day, I will meet it smiling. For I’ll have held this oath.’ I’ve mulled it over quite carefully.” Indeed he had, especially the portions about keeping the truth. “I’ll still be working for the realms if I serve in the auxiliary. I can live up to every part of that oath.”
“You may make enemies who were once your friends.”
“Something that’s held me back. Until now.”
The commander brushed hair away from her forehead. “Tell me, then. If you hadn’t run into me so quickly, what had you hoped to do?”
He glanced at Tesra. “Renew a friendship. Apologize for keeping too distant.” He was pleased when his nod was greeted by a tentative smile from his old friend. “And then I hoped to see what I might be getting myself into before I switched horses. So to speak. The auxiliary’s closemouthed. I’m not really sure how you serve the realms. I gather you sometimes head out on expeditions for hearthstones, but it seems like most of you just stay here.”
“And you’d want the former more than the latter, I suppose.” Synahla paused for a moment, but Rylin decided to say nothing that might imperil the conclusion she seemed likely to make. “Well, Rylin, if I do take you, that’s exactly the sort of thing I’d have in mind. I imagine you have other uses as well, but, to be frank, our martial prowess is not as pronounced as that of the Altenerai. We do have a few skilled enough to train our division to defend themselves physically, and some of your colleagues occasionally drop by to assist. Pardon me. Your late colleagues used to come by.”
Good. That seemed to suggest that only Cargen and K’narr had been directly involved.
Synahla continued. “To have someone more soldierly on staff full-time would be a tremendous asset.”
“I would have access to the hearthstones, though?”
“Eventually.” Her eyes held his. “Have you ever used one? Or have you simply read accounts?”
“Accounts only.”
“I see.” She looked mildly disappointed. “Some Altenerai may still hold shards or even full stones, though Denaven’s never gotten any to admit it.”
“I’ve never seen one until today,” Rylin averred. “I would have liked to have viewed them through the inner world. But that seemed rude.”
“Did it. Unlike your presumptuous entry into a restricted area?”
“I don’t argue I was presumptuous. But no one told me I was in a place Altenerai were forbidden.” So far as he knew, there was no such place in all Erymyr, including its capital, or any of the Allied Realms.
“Indeed.” A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. “Tesra, I’ll have Verin finish your work today. Show the alten our training facilities. Let him see where he’d be working.”
“Yes, Commander.”
She started to turn away; then, as though it were only an afterthought, she paused. “And check out a shard for him so he can have his curiosity satisfied. If you like what you experience, Rylin, speak to me tomorrow and we’ll work out what to say to Denaven.”
“So I’ve a formal invite, then?”
“So long as you behave more tactfully from here on out.” Synahla looked at him once more as she opened the door, then passed confidently through before closing it after.
Tesra seemed oblivious to her commanding officer’s subtle flirtation. She all but beamed at Rylin. “You won her over! She’s a tough one, too.”
“She doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Then you weren’t paying attention! I thought she was going to have you formally reprimanded before the queen.”
Rylin had thought so, too, but he only smiled and shook his head.
“And this basket you brought is very sweet. I do love cherries: these look perfectly ripe.”
“They are.”
“I’m glad you came. We’re working on so many exciting projects. You’re going to love it here.”
She turned the basket over to him, promising that she’d be right back. Before the door closed, Rylin looked past her swaying figure to the long desk she approached, just visible beyond the field of tables. And directly behind it sat a rack of leather-bound tomes. He imagined Varama would give a lot to know what they held. She might even be more curious about them than the shelves of hearthstones beyond. He hoped he wouldn’t actually have to pretend to resign from the Altenerai to find out.
Tesra returned after a few moments, adjusting a lock of hair that escaped her silver band. She showed him the bright lavender shard she’d brought, but didn’t hand it over, promising to orient him properly after a tour.
“Tell me about these projects that are so exciting.”
She laughed. “You’re always so keen. But I really shouldn’t talk about them yet. Not until you’re full-fledged auxiliary.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not that. I’m sworn to keep these matters secret from all the uninitiated. And,” she admitted as they started up a side stair, “even some in my division aren’t permitted to know what I do.”
“So you’re saying you’re special.”
“I thought you knew that.”
She shifted the conversation to small talk about friends and family in between pointing out various functional aspects of the building. The living quarters were airier than those in the Altenerai wing, but the walls didn’t seem as thick. There were quite a number more rooms than Rylin expected, but many appeared unoccupied. The recovery wards were well stocked—usually for magical injuries rather than physical ones, Tesra told him. The conference room doors were decorated with more of those female figures who weren’t quite Vedessa or Darassa.
“What goddess is that, Tesra?”
“If you’re good,” she said with the hint of a wicked smile, “I’ll tell you later.”
Finally she led him to a courtyard where eight recruits worked through sword forms under the tutelage of a broad-shouldered swordsman dressed, like Verin, in a khalat with red decorative piping. He looked familiar, but with his back turned Rylin couldn’t place him.
Their arrival almost immediately brought the training to a standstill. Pair by sparring pair, the men and women on the flat, sandy surface lowered their dulled practice swords and stared at him.
After a moment, the instructor turned as well, and that was when Rylin realized he should have recognized him from the start. Wavy auburn hair, close cropped; flat brown eyes; a narrow nose with a proud hook.
“Thelar,” Tesra said, “we’re sorry to interrupt. The commander wanted me to show Alten Rylin around.”
Thelar barked at his pupils to return to work. He strode over sand shaded by three and a half stories of building, his bootheels crunching the soil with every step. The others saluted one another with their weapons and returned to slicing, thrusting, and blocking, their swords clacking dully as they met. Rylin didn’t see the rank novices he’d partly expected.
Thelar didn’t bother nodding and directed his question to Tesra. “What’s he doing here?”
She started to speak. “Rylin’s considering—” And then she quieted, apparently remembering that Rylin sought discretion.
“I might start training work with your division,” Rylin offered.
Thelar’s expression was naturally inclined to frowns, and it went midway on to sneer. “I think I have things well in hand. I thought we were through with Altenerai around here.”
“Maybe not,” Rylin said. He had been surprised someone so temperamentally unsuited had reached as high as the fourth rank of the Altenerai and glad to see Thelar leave the corps when he did. And then he remembered, with striking clarity, that it was Denaven who’d argued for Thelar’s continued advancement back then. Just as it was Denaven who’d pressed other Altenerai to back Cargen’s promotion, and then K’narr after him. If the Mage Auxiliary hadn’t been created, might the man before him be wearing a sapphire rather than a ruby?
“Nice ring,” Rylin said cooly. He regretted the comment immediately. It drew attention to Thelar’s failure to advance with the Altenerai, surely his original goal. He could never quite resist needling the thin-skinned rustic from Alantris. But he didn’t expect the venom that followed.
“You arrogant ass.” Thelar’s voice was low, ugly. “You still think you’re better than me, don’t you? I bet you could scarcely wait to volunteer your services after Cargen and K’narr were murdered. But then you were always ready to jump on any undeserved opportunity.”
Oh. “Is this still about that blonde?” Rylin couldn’t even remember her name. Nira something.
“This is about you.” Thelar stabbed a finger at him.
Rylin kept his eyes planted on Thelar’s upper chest, just below his neck, the better to watch any peripheral movements. An attack might be imminent. And here everything had been going so well. Synahla had admonished him to be tactful. “I didn’t come here to fight you, Thelar.”
The sparrers continued poking at one another but kept glancing toward the more engaging conflict at the courtyard’s edge. Tesra looked like she might intervene, but Rylin raised a hand to warn her off; he realized he’d have to set some precedent for interactions with Thelar if he were to mingle with the auxiliary regularly.
Thelar wasn’t interested in conciliation. “You think you’re such an excellent trainer? Here. You show us how it’s done.” He spun and clapped hands twice.
On the instant, the assembled students ceased their half-hearted sparring and pivoted so that each stood beside another, at parade rest.
Rylin caught the scent of perfumed hair as Tesra leaned close. “Maybe we should go,” she said in a whisper.
“It’s fine. I can play along.”
Thelar was addressing his pupils. “We have a special guest today. Alten Rylin. One of the sapphire-bearing Altenerai. He’s agreed to a small demonstration.”
Rylin leaned toward Tesra. “I don’t recall doing that.”
“You don’t have to join in,” she said, then added, “you probably shouldn’t.”
He knew he shouldn’t, just as he knew he’d never live it down with Thelar if he demurred.
“A practice bout to a count of three,” Thelar said, his teeth flashing in a grin. “What do you say to that, Rylin? Against two of my finest pupils?”
Two? He’d have preferred one, or none, but he could hardly refuse, even knowing Thelar was planning something. “If you think it will be instructive. You’re in charge here, Exalt, so I defer to you.”
For some reason that set the man sneering. “Oh, it’ll be instructive.” He motioned for two tall, young redheaded women. They wore sleeveless leather-reinforced shirts, and their pale skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat.
Rylin unbuckled his sword belt, wondering what Varama would say about this. Probably she’d advise him not to tarry, to make excuses and get out with information. Yet, if he was supposed to infiltrate the corps, he had to obtain the respect of its members, and a martial instructor who didn’t want to fight wasn’t especially impressive.
Neither was a martial instructor who lost.
Rylin mulled over his motivations even as he strode to the practice rack and looked at the battered metal swords. Most had a fair balance. One proved almost as light as his own, though its reach was a thumbspan shorter.
He still wasn’t entirely certain this was a wise course, or a necessary one, but he stepped up to the browned sparring circle in the courtyard’s center. Its edge was marked with a scattered spray of black pebbles.
Thelar announced: “M’vai, Meria, the combat is to last three rounds. Each round concludes if one of you scores a point against Rylin, or if he scores against both of you. If he should score a point against one of you, the round has ended only for the person scored against; the round continues for the other combatants. All other rules are standard.”
“Yes, Exalt.” The squires answered as one, their voices blending smoothly. They moved at the same instant to take up equidistant points on the circle, forming a triangle with Rylin. Judging by their lack of hesitation, they’d fought together before.
Rylin raised his own sword in salute before he brought it sweeping down at the same time as his opponents.
M’vai, distinguished from her twin by a small brown mole above her lip, darted in with a thrust to Rylin’s chest. He parried high, pivoted on his right foot, and kicked her sternum with his left. She stumbled toward Meria. While Meria danced clear he swatted M’vai’s small round backside, temporarily visible when the tail of her leather tunic flew up. One point, and the impact sent her sprawling to the dirt.
Meria gritted pearly white teeth and charged. All he had to do was parry and wait for the opening—and then his leg slipped forward and he staggered. Meria pounced and just managed to touch his shoulder as he leaned away.
He stepped back and saluted. “Nicely done.”
She nodded. As she turned to help her sister to her feet, Rylin glanced at the sand. It didn’t appear any looser where he’d slipped. He surreptitiously inspected the sole of his right boot and found nothing amiss.
Thelar grinned at him. “They’re better than you supposed, aren’t they? Alten?”
He’d faced better. But he’d underestimated them, and possibly been too reckless.
And then it came to him as he saw Thelar’s glee. Standard rules might not mean the same thing here as it meant in the Altenerai training rings. And even if it did, who was to say Thelar wouldn’t cheat?
“Quite surprising,” Rylin called back. He breathed out, focused a kernel of energy from deep within, and used it to keep his ring’s lighting mechanism disabled. An important skill, lest the thing act as a beacon while moving at night. He pretended to brush something from his blunted sword’s edge as he willed the sapphire to life without its glow. Instantly he grew conscious of the different sources of energy surrounding him. The pulsing life force of all those in the practice field. Thelar’s ring, Tesra’s hair band—interesting.
If a spell were being thrown, he would know its source.
Rylin resumed position across from his opponents and saluted them. This time he sensed the passage of energy between Meria and M’vai and understood they worked together through a mental link.
Rylin exploded forward, rolling away from M’vai’s strike and parrying Meria’s as his momentum carried him past both. As M’vai recovered and swung to follow, his blunt sword struck her twin under the left arm.
In the stumble that followed, Rylin tapped M’vai in the kidney then stepped back. He’d felt no other magic at play, but then he’d moved so fast, perhaps there hadn’t been time.
The sisters’ eyes held a predatory gleam as they raised their swords for another pass.
This time Meria went in first and M’vai followed on Rylin’s right flank. He swept Meria’s blade aside. As he pivoted he sensed the pressure against his heel this time, as well as the surge of energy that rose from Thelar. Sensing and acting were two different movements, though, and even as he recovered his footing two swords swung toward him at the same moment, one toward his shoulder, the other toward his chest. He slipped away from one and felt a magical push that thrust him straight into line with the second strike even as he raised his sword to block Meria’s. Too late.
He stepped apart.
“Two points on you now, Rylin,” Thelar said.
The shoves from Thelar had been well-timed, and unlikely to be registered by the ring’s defenses, because they weren’t direct physical or mental assaults. They were also ill-mannered in a training bout, which should be between contestants only.
But then this wasn’t really about the sparring on the sand.
Rylin nodded. “Indeed.” He glanced over the rest of the assembled mages, saw them fingering their blades, felt them watching with their own power.
So they knew their master cheated. He might ask if magics were allowed, or permitted from outside the circle, but then he could be mocked for having to ask, or for not being up to the challenge. He also was certain Thelar knew he’d assume the rules were the same here as in Altenerai training where this use of magic would be declared and only from combatants.
Better to act than to ask.
As Rylin dropped his sword in salute he sent a superb wave of nausea toward Thelar while stepping in toward Meria. She thrust at him on the instant.
Even as he felt his spell rebuffed by Thelar, he dodged Meria’s point, which passed near his throat, and he slammed his pommel into her knuckles. Just then Thelar pushed at the back of his knee, but Rylin was prepared with a spell block. Meria, with a cry of pain, released her hold on the blade and Rylin grabbed it from her with his off hand. He swatted her shoulder even as he swung his other up to block a savage head blow from M’vai. She was wide open for his new second sword, but Rylin backstepped instead and coaxed a fluff of air toward Thelar.
Meria, disarmed, scrambled clear of the circle as Rylin maneuvered himself closer to Thelar, to his right but a little behind, and while the latter wove a defense for an assault that was nothing more than wind, he sent a more powerful gust into the small of the man’s back.
That broke Thelar’s guard and tripped him a step forward just as Rylin extended the weapon in his right hand and took Thelar in the temple with the flat of his blade. He felt the satisfying thud, heard a moan and the sound of a body slumping to the sand.
Rylin easily parried M’vai’s second and third thrust. As she withdrew to circle him, he whipped Meria’s sword at her.
Practiced she might be, but she gasped a little to find a spinning length of metal flying at her head, even if she knew its edges were dull. She managed to block it, only to find Rylin’s other sword touching her shoulder.
“Point,” he said.
He stepped back to look down at Thelar, crumpled and groaning feebly. “And seeing as our referee’s been injured in the bout, I think that’s match. If any of you have healing talents you might want to look him over.” Rylin drove his sword into the practice field sand. “But I doubt there’s any lasting damage. His skull’s fairly thick.”
Tesra handed over his sword belt, and he walked for the exit as he fastened it. He heard her following, but he didn’t speak to her until they’d left the courtyard for an empty corridor.
“Well, that was interesting,” he said.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was going to do that.”
“He’s always hated me. Didn’t you remember?”
A flush had spread over her cheeks. “Not until we walked in. And then it was too late.” Her embarrassment looked genuine. “He’s not usually like that anymore.”
“Hard to believe. But if he was like that all the time, I suppose someone would have killed him.”
“It’s not a total loss. Everyone’s going to be talking about that training exercise. But couldn’t you have dealt with Thelar without embarrassing him so badly? Now you’re going to have an enemy waiting when you join.”
“I always did and just didn’t know. Besides, I couldn’t very well ignore the challenge.” He cleared his throat. He should get back to business. “What about this hearthstone shard you were going to show me?”
She gave him a half smile and took his hand. “All right.”
He felt a stab of jealousy when he saw Tesra’s suite was larger and more sumptuous than his own, with colorful wall decorations and elegant modern furniture with plush cushions. All the bright scarves and hangings paled to insignificance, though, against the shining object she brought forth from the pouch tucked up one sleeve, like a diamond afire from within.
Was this the shard he’d seen earlier? It looked entirely different now and far more fascinating.
She stared at it hard for a long moment, and then the glow brightened enough to throw long shadows. Yet it wasn’t the sort of light to ward your eyes against, but one that soothed and welcomed.
His voice was a whisper. “So this is a hearthstone?”
“Part of one. We’ve classified them into different sizes. This is a size three shard.” She touched his hand and guided it toward the stone. “Go ahead. Reach into the inner world and feel it.”
He resisted the pull, but didn’t release her fingers. Why was the touch of her hand so enticing? He hadn’t been this aroused by such light contact since his first real kiss, long years ago. It was a struggle to maintain concentration. “What were all of you doing in the Great Hall? Studying their effects?”
“Well, yes. Each hearthstone has different energy flows. We have to see how they fit together. What their powers are.”
“And the people with the clocks?”
“The hearthstones are alluring. We have to have someone monitoring so none of us get lost in their glories.” She tugged once more. “Now stop. I can’t tell you any more until later. Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
“But you’re nervous.” Her eyes sought his. “If you’re serious about this, Rylin, you have to trust me.”
He definitely was nervous, though he hadn’t meant to show it. Would she be able to see into his mind with that thing? “Oh, I’m serious.”
She seemed to like that, and nodded slowly.
“What will happen when I touch it?”
“Wonderful things.”
There was promise in her eyes. Rylin readied himself and opened his view to the inner world.
The words rose, unbidden, to his lips. “It’s lovely.” There was nothing so lovely as a lovely woman, but that astonishing, vibrant, coruscating energy had something of the feminine in it. Certainly it was beguiling and mysterious and beautiful all at once.
He needed no urging to touch his own fingers to the surface, but he felt Tesra’s against his own, and it was powerfully erotic.
“Careful,” Tesra said. “Reach for it.”
He touched the sorcerous power with his, and his ring lit even against his wishes, so great was the surge of energy washing through him.
“Fill yourself with the power! Drink it in.”
Aches and pains he hadn’t heeded and even lingering wariness washed away from him until he found himself laughing in pure, unbridled joy. He hadn’t been so carefree in ages.
And he found her eyes looking into his, reflecting that joy, saw her back arch in ecstasy as that energy swept through her as well.
“Goddess!” she cried.
He felt the energy spiraling away, felt her own spirit pushing him out, and then they cleared and the hearthstone was dim and she stared at him, panting, with smoldering eyes.
He wasn’t sure who threw themselves at whom.
“Did you feel her, Rylin?” she gasped between kisses. “Did you feel her heartbeat?”
“Whose heartbeat?”
She fumbled with the hooks to his khalat, and he stood, lifting her bodily from her couch. She wrapped her legs tightly against him, her pelvis pressed to his. “The Goddess,” she whispered, even as he bore her toward the doorway to her bedroom.
He was too busy with the goddess in his arms to ask her anything about another.