Color Mage (Book 1) (21 page)

Yun’lar made a face when he saw it. “Your Majesty, I cannot vouch for this plant. It may harm you.”

 “Am I to suffer this misery forever? You can provide no relief. Maybe she can. Though it looks most evil.” Ar’ok tipped the mug back and forth. Green grains drifted back and forth in the murky depths. The tea smelled faintly of grass.

One of the guards said, “Your Majesty, we do not know of this woman. She is foreign, and accompanies a foreign ku’an. Do not drink the tea.” The man reached out to take the cup. Ar’ok withheld it. He lifted his ku’an’s eyes to her face.

“Ku’an’an,” he said.

Kirian lifted her head in surprise. Si’lan, the ku’an whom they had met when they first arrived, was there, standing in the back of the group. At the King’s call, he came forward.

“Your Majesty?” he said.

“If this concoction kills me, see that this one dies a painful death. And the new ku’an, too.”

Si’lan bent his head in agreement. “Yes, Sire.”

Ar’ok tipped the mug to his lips and drank down the whole thing. When he thrust the cup away from him, his eyes showed tears and there were green stains at the corners of his mouth. He bent over, making grunts of disgust.

“Ah, that is foul. Perhaps she has tried to harm me.” Still wheezing, the King looked pale and miserable.

Kirian said to Yun’lar, “My lord, please check his heart rate. The leaf will tend to speed it, but the mellweed should keep it under control.”

Yun’lar approached the King and said, “With your permission, Sire.” When Ar’ok ignored him, he bent and held Ar’ok’s wrist, counting silently. “Fast, it is fast,” he said. “But not fatal.”

“For this reason the leaf cannot be taken more than once in a day,” Kirian said. “It’s hard on the heart.”

“And has no effect!” Yun’ar objected.

“Wait, my lord physician,” Kirian said. “Wait, for half a candlemark at least.”

For Kirian, the half a candlemark progressed in extreme discomfort. She bent and put away the unused sart leaves, watched Yun’lar take the King’s pulse again, and look worried. The Ku’an’an watched her. The King’s guards stayed very close to her, and had a tendency to let their hands rest on their weapons. Before the time had passed, she noticed Ar’ok was sitting straighter on his chair. A moment later, he snapped at a slave who was applying more lotion on his back. Kirian said, “I think you will find, Your Majesty, that you are feeling better.”

Ar’ok’s golden eyes narrowed at her. “I am breathing better. Where did you learn of this plant?”

“At Healer’s College, Your Majesty.”

“Are there many women Healers in Righar?”

“Yes, there are quite a few.”

“And you examine men’s bodies?” Ar’ok’s eyes were no longer exhausted. His expression was lascivious. Kirian shuddered inside.

“We are Healers. We examine the bodies of men or women when they come to us for healing, yes. As do your own physicians.”

“She is a heathen, Your Majesty,” said Yun’lar. “She knows no better.”

Ar’ok looked her up and down. “She did know something you did not know, though, lord of physicians.”

Yun’lar bowed low and did not speak.

“This unpleasant leaf is a wonder,” the King continued. “I breathe as usual. Yun’lar, learn about this leaf from the Healer.”

“Your Majesty, if I may,” Kirian said. “Remember that the sart leaf cannot be taken more than one time in a day, because it speeds your heart. While it is working, you must have your slaves clear this room of smoke. A little fresh air will help your lungs. If you do not do this, you may find yourself suffering another attack by evening.”

“Do what she says.” The King turned to the ku’an’an, and began discussing something else, apparently forgetting Kirian. She bowed and retreated from the room with the Queen’s attendant and the lord physician following close.

“I will call upon you to learn about the sart leaf,” the physician said. He had a sour look on his face, but Kirian thought he was attempting to be polite. “It is more appropriate for the King’s own physicians to be administering it.”

“Lord Yun’lar, I thank you for allowing me to treat the king,” she said. She could tell the lord physician was not her friend, but she had no wish to alienate him further than her gender, her profession, and her success at treating the King had already done.

Kirian nodded and followed the attendant back to the Queen’s parlor. The attendant whispered admiring congratulations to her, to which Kirian responded politely, but Kirian was exhausted. The stresses of the morning had worn her out. The boy King’s narrow ku’an eyes bothered her; she had discerned no trace of benevolence in them, in spite of their youth. She remembered how many dried sart leaves there were in her bag, and wondered what would happen when she ran out.

The Queen, still sitting spiderlike in her chair, gave Kirian stately thanks and told her to ask for whatever she needed to be comfortable in Las’ash city. Kirian thought about asking to be rid of Sara’Si, but simply bowed and thanked the Queen.

Back at her room, the rotund guard was about to let her in when Chiss’ lean face appeared in Callo’s open door.

“Come in here,” he said.

The guard looked as if he were about to protest. Kirian’s veiled chaperone followed her into Callo’s room. Chiss frowned at the woman, but she ignored him.

Callo was pacing up and down before an unshuttered window, looking out at the city. A bitter wind gusted into the room, making the fire snap and waver.

“Gods! It’s cold in here,” Kirian said. Callo turned on one heel to look at her.

“Who is that?”

“My companion, Hon Sara’Si. She goes with me everywhere.”

“Not here,” Callo said. “You may await the Healer in her chamber.”

“Yes, please go,” Kirian said. “I will be fine here.”

Sara’Si bowed and said, “My lord ku’an, I have been ordered to accompany Hon Kirian wherever she goes.”

A muscle worked in Callo’s jaw. “I am ordering you to leave. You can await Hon Kirian in her room, or you can go to hell for all I care.”

The veiled woman clearly felt it wasn’t wise to argue with an irritated ku’an. She bowed and retreated.

“I will have to pay for that later,” Kirian said lightly.

“What can she do to you?” Callo said dismissively. Kirian did not know the answer to that, but she feared she would find out if Callo kept disregarding the customs of this land.

Chiss closed and shuttered the window, casting them into a shadowy gloom. He brought wine and nuts from a side table. Callo poured himself some of the wine and drank, and then gestured at the jar, which prompted Chiss to pour some wine for Kirian and then for himself. The wine tasted dry and strong.

No sooner had she felt its taste on her tongue than Callo said: “Where were you?”

“I was called to help with a healing.” Kirian could have said more, but his tone annoyed her. “What concern is it of yours?”

“You could have told us where you were going. I am responsible for you.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “Since when, my lord? The last I heard, I asked to accompany you to this place, not marry you.”

Callo flushed. His eyes glittered in a disconcerting way. She almost thought she saw a spark. “As far as these people are concerned, you are of my household. That makes me responsible.”

He was worried
, Kirian realized, as she sipped the wine again. Most of her annoyance vanished. “I will try to do better in the future,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chiss go into the little alcove reserved for the servant’s cot and belongings. She looked up at Lord Callo, a smile beginning to light her eyes. She was charmed by his worry.

He stood very near her, his eyes on her smiling ones. His face was expressionless. He did not speak, yet Kirian felt as if he were under the influence of some strong emotion.

“I thank you for your concern,” she said in a soft voice.

He raised his hand and with one finger traced the line of her jaw. She stood motionless, hardly breathing. He seemed very tall and warm, standing so close. She saw his eyes on her mouth. Her breath came faster.

Chiss dropped something in the alcove. The sound made Kirian jump. Chiss pushed aside the curtain and returned to the main chamber. Lord Callo stepped back. Kirian flushed and looked away.

“The Queen called me,” she said, hurrying into words. “The King has the breathing disease, and was in the middle of an attack.”

“King Ar’ok? The boy king?” Chiss asked.

“A strange boy.” She remembered the look in his eyes after he recovered, when he was watching her, and shivered.

“Did he do something to you?” Callo asked, noting her reaction.

“No. He’s just—older than his years. Not really a boy after all,” she said lightly.

“All that power doesn’t make for normal individuals,” Callo said. “Look at Sharpeyes. It’s why I can’t get around this ku’an business.”

“Surely there are people who use power benevolently,” Chiss said. “King Ar’ok is most definitely not one of them.”

“What have you heard, Chiss?”

“He uses a ku’an’s power to get what he wants. Nothing unusual in that – most of them do, here. But he is very young to be so ruthless. He has a bad reputation with women.”

“So did you cure him?” Callo asked.

“Temporarily,” Kirian said. “There is no cure for the disease, but sart leaves taken as a tea will ease the attacks. They don’t seem to know of the sart plant here, so I am Ar’ok’s only source of it until their physicians can locate some.”

Callo smiled. “Good.”

Chiss took the empty wine jug from the table. “It will make them think twice before they do anything hostile towards you, my lord.”

“I will not withhold my aid for any kind of political reason, my lord,” Kirian warned.

“It doesn’t matter. They will
think
you will, Kirian. And they’ll be as accommodating as they can to me because of it.”

Chapter Ten

Callo stood outside the ornate wooden door. The door was carved with figures from Ha’lasi myth or history—the god Ur’brok siring his son Som’ur, the first psychic lord of Ha’las. Callo examined the carvings as he waited. The human woman Ur’brok had settled on as the vessel of his legacy looked pained, almost agonized, as Ur’brok ravished her. Ur’brok, he thought with a startled smile, bore a strong resemblance to Jashan.

The door swung open to reveal a bowing guard and a veiled woman, probably a noblewoman of some sort from the quality of her robes and jewelry.

“Lord Callo?” the woman said. “You may enter.”

Callo nodded and entered the room. There were guards and servants, but only three occupants of status. One was an older woman dressed in ornate robes that hung on her bony frame. Jewelry glittered in her red-gray hair, on her hands, stitched into her robes. As Callo entered, she was splaying her fingers in front of her, admiring the sparkle of multiple rings on each finger. An adolescent boy sat near her, looking sulky as if forced to an unwelcome duty. His face was peaked in the light of the fire. Behind the boy stood Si’lan, the ku’an’an of Ha’las.

All three of them had eyes the same amber color as his own.

Callo made a formal bow to the King, then to the Queen.

“Your Majesties,” Si’lan said, “This is the ku’an I told you about. Callo ran Alkiran from Righar.”

“I am most honored, your Majesties,” Callo said.

The boy king’s eyes slid over Callo. His eyelids dropped. “You must know how this half-a-ku’an came to be. Mother?”

“Your royal father did not share as much with me as you might have thought,” the Queen said. Her eyes were avid as she evaluated Callo. “But he makes a fine addition to our ranks. Perhaps you would honor me with your presence at dinner soon, Lord Callo?”

“He is accompanied by the young woman Healer,” murmured Si’lan. “Shall she be invited as well?”

The Queen pursed her lips. “No need for that, Si’lan. You may entertain her, if she is worth entertaining.”

Callo stiffened. “I understand Hon Kirian has performed a great service for His Majesty.”

“Indeed,” Si’lan said. “And he is grateful. Are you not, Sire?”

Ar’ok grimaced. “Yes, yes. Though a woman Healer is an abomination. What is she like, Lord Callo? In bed?”

Anger flashed through his veins. Si’lan, watching him, said: “Excuse His Majesty, Lord Callo. He derives pleasure from prodding you thus.”

Callo’s speech was frozen by the exigencies of his awkward position here. He could not reply.

Ar’ok laughed. “You do not behave like a ku’an at all,” he said.

“I came here to discover the Ha’lasi part of my heritage,” Callo bit off. “Thus far, it does not please me.”

Si’lan said, “Calm down now, my lord. You don’t know us well enough to make such a judgment. And you! Your Majesty. Please guard your tongue.”

Ar’ok’s eyes narrowed. “You overstep yourself, ku’an’an.” The lazy smile was gone from his face. His stare was malevolent. He sat up and transferred his stare to Callo. “You are but half a ku’an. What use you are I do not know. But Si’lan has asked me to accommodate you, so I will, for a while. Talk to Si’lan. Go to Som’ur. Maybe you will learn how to be a ku’an.”

If you are an example, then I will not wish to
. Callo was furious. He choked down his first rash response. Chiss had warned him against this boy King, and had advised him to keep a firm hold on his temper. When he spoke it was with rigid control. “I cannot agree with you, Your Majesty, but I can only be appreciative of your hospitality. I hope you will discover the error in your opinion of us.”

Ar’ok laughed again, then his eyes slid away from Callo towards a slave girl who approached with a tray of refreshments. Callo decided he would not touch the offered food if his life depended upon it. The Queen watched him, eyes flirting from under her ridiculous veil; he knew her admiration would turn in a blink to antagonism if he insulted Ar’ok. He bowed and took his leave. Si’lan was just behind him as the carven door closed behind him.

“I would offer my apologies,” Si’lan said. “But there is no point. It will happen again whenever you see him.”

“Jashan’s eyes. What have I done to that . . .?” He stifled his words, aware that Si’lan was no friend either.