Color Mage (Book 1) (7 page)

“My lord!” she said coldly. “I will be happy to see you as a Healer. Hon Ruthan is with me. Only let me summon her . . .”

“Not the old one?” Forell said, disappointed. “She does nothing but prescribe abstinence, and she is not sympathetic at all. Perhaps you can examine me alone, Hon Gazelle.” His hand reached for her breast, but Kirian stepped away.

“It would not be right, my lord. I am learning from Hon Ruthan. Also, I must insist that you not touch me, my lord.”

“What is the point,” Forell said to the ceiling, “Of sending to us such an oddity, a young woman skilled in the arts of the body, a woman with the face and hair of a boy, the limbs of a gazelle, the breast of a . . .”

“My lord!”

“And forbidding me to touch her?” Forell reached out again, grasping Kirian’s slender hand in his plump one. “There is little to entertain us here in SeagardCastle, my oddity. Perhaps you will let me entertain you. Otherwise, by Jashan it grows dull here!”

“My lord,” Kirian said, withdrawing her hand, “I cannot accept your very, uh, interesting offer. Do you require Hon Ruthan’s services?”

“Ah, curse the old one. There’s nothing I need so badly I will listen to her. Go, then—but don’t think you can always count on my forbearance.”

Kirian bowed and made her escape, grateful that she had won out of that one without antagonizing one of her important noble clients. She strode back through the maze of rooms and up the stairs, passing many more people now, including a set of armed guardsmen who frowned at her as she left the family’s common areas and regained her own floor. Back in the room she shared with Hon Ruthan, she turned her back to the door and leaned against it.

Ruthan sat fully clothed on the edge of the bed, closing her healer’s bag. She looked up at Kirian with her blank white eyes and grinned.

“Now,” she wondered, “What member of the noble Alkiran clan is chasing you into your room so early in the morning?”

“Lord Forell,” Kirian said. “Hon Ruthan, how will I ever be able to treat him or examine him alone?”

“You will take me with you, when possible,” Ruthan said. “Best to never see him alone. He’s known for his eye for the village women too. But to be safe, I will have a word with Shala Si. She can make Lord Forell aware—without saying a straight word to him!—that if you are touched, she will take her vengeance. Also, it would not do for Lord Mikati to know that Forell had mistreated you.”

“Why should Shala Si care? She certainly doesn’t like me.”

Ruthan shrugged. “Everything to do with her master is of concern to her. Her lot is much better here than it would be anywhere else, Kirian. She will want to protect her place.”

“Her place is not in danger. He was only bored, I presume.” Kirian wished, sharply and suddenly, that Inmay was here; then, just as quickly, she knew that Inmay would be of no use to her. He would probably fall in love with Shala Si anyway; the concubine had soft dark eyes and a rounded body and was bound to appeal to him. Attractive slaves were Inmay’s weakness.

“Come, Hon Ruthan,” she said. “I have checked on Lord Arias and he’s doing well. Can we get out of here before I do something to get us both in trouble?”

* * * * *

Back in Seagard an hour later, Kirian went walking on the shore, spending an hour or so in the crystal morning air and returning to the house windblown and red-cheeked. Sitting before the hearth sorting herbs that had dried on the wooden rack, she mulled over what had happened the night before.

“Why,” she asked Ruthan, “wasn’t that mage bound already? Surely he’s too old for a first binding?”

“Arias has always been different, living in Sugetre and all. He is in line to inherit the throne, after some cousin or other, so he was not Collared. His majesty usually binds all mages when they take the cloak,” Ruthan agreed. “After all, if he does not Collar them or bind them to a task, they end up self-binding to their art, and the King doesn’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“Because mages that are bound to their art care not for kings or lords. All they care about is magery. Mages are too powerful to leave running around with no loyalties but to themselves.”

“It was cruel,” Kirian said. “I know it is the
righ
mages’ duty to protect us from Ha’las, but it was cruel. The man almost died, and now he is virtually a slave to the Watch.”

Ruthan cackled. “I knew you cared more about him than you should. Why does it matter if a spoiled noble is finally forced to his duty? He has enough privileges, so let him do his duty! Don’t let his face charm you, young Kirian. He’s no better than the rest of them, I’m sure.”

“I don’t even know the man, and he will never notice me.” In fact, as she continued sorting the herbs, she wondered more about the amber-eyed warrior than about Lord Arias. Lord Callo had smiled directly into her eyes that morning, which was more than any other of them had done, except Lord Forell who was bent on manipulating her into his bed. She had felt an answering smile and a friendly connection to the man. But Lord Callo was a
righ
too, in spite of his questionable parentage; she could admire him, but it would be unwise to try to make a friend of him.

* * * * *

A sennight later, Kirian left Ruthan’s house early to see a village woman in her ninth month of pregnancy. She reassured the woman that her time was not yet, was offered hot tea and berry cakes, and left the house with a smile on her face.

Kirian walked down the rocky strand with the sea breeze in her hair, noticing that the air had grown colder in the last week or so. The villagers were salting extra catches in preparation for the winter, and Marka had butchered a pig. The children who played tag between the gray houses wore cloaks. Ruthan had warned Kirian that she would not like the village so much after she had experienced a Seagard winter.

As Kirian passed Marka’s house, a small boy ran up to her with an excited grin on his face.

“Hon Kirian, come and see! There is a horse!”

Kirian laughed. “Indeed, Cam! I know how you love horses. But whose horse could it be?”

“A warrior came from the Castle to talk to Elder Hame. He left his horse tied to the line. Come with me, Hon Kirian!” Cam grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the Elder’s house.

It was not just any carthorse that stood tied loosely to Hame’s clothesline. The mare was a beauty, with clean, delicate lines—a  nobleman’s mount. The mare turned her head to look at them as they approached. Cam was charmed.

“Can I pat her, Hon Kirian?”

“I don’t know, Cam—this mare may not want to be bothered, and it is not your horse . . .”

Before she could finish her thought, the mare bobbed her head at Cam as though inviting him nearer. The boy approached and gently rubbed her chestnut neck.

“I wish this was my horse,” Cam said.

Running footsteps sounded behind them. There was a rattle of flung gravel, and a few of the small stones struck the mare. She startled and pulled at her tether.

Cam drew back. “Hey!”

Kirian turned, but the offender had hidden around the corner of another house. “Who is that? Is that you, young Peak?”

There came another rattle of stones, thrown from the other corner of the house. Kirian saw a grinning face—Peak, one of the older boys known for his sometimes mean pranks. This time a stone struck the mare’s nose. She neighed and reared, twisting, and one of her hooves struck Cam’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Cam yelled in pain.

Booted footsteps sounded on Elder Hame’s wooden walkway. A deep voice, vaguely familiar, said: “What’s going on here?”

Kirian fell to her knees next to Cam. He clutched his left shoulder, blood leaking from between his fingers. His hand shook.

The man went to his horse’s head. The mare was still shaken, her eyes showing white. “Calm down now, Miri, my sweet. Nothing threatens you.”

Elder Hame stomped out onto his walkway. “I saw you, young Peak!” he roared at a figure fleeing down the beach. He came up behind Kirian. “Is he all right?”

“Send someone for his mother, if you please, Elder Hame,” said Kirian. Cam was crying hysterically, trying to scramble farther away from the mare. “Stop now, little one. You must let me look at your shoulder. Your mother is on her way.”

Cam paid her no attention. He shoved her hands away, sobbing.

“Cam! Let me look, little one. I can help you.”

Someone crouched down beside her. “Who is this? Cam, did you say? Cam, my mare did not mean to hurt you. She was frightened.” Kirian looked up to see Lord Callo, the amber-eyed lord from SeagardCastle. His voice was deep and calm. “Let the Healer see to your shoulder, and then you can come with me and meet Miri properly.”

Cam’s teary eyes looked up. He stopped shaking. Gently, Kirian took his hand and moved it from the bleeding shoulder.

“Good, that’s the trick,” Kirian said. “I think your Mama is coming, Cam—let’s show her you’re brave, shall we?”

A small crowd approached, led by Cam’s anxious mother. Lord Callo went on talking, about nothing very much. His deep voice carried a soothing vibration Kirian could not identify. She felt calmer, listening to it. It held Cam still like a bug pinned to paper.

Cam remained unnaturally still as Kirian examined the injured shoulder. His fixed stare remained on Lord Callo’s face. Kirian knew she was hurting the boy, but Callo’s voice talked on, calm and relaxing like mellweed, and did not stop until she had finished.

Then Cam moved, staring at Kirian, his eyes wide.

“All is well, Cam,” she said. “The bleeding has almost stopped by itself, and no bones are broken. Go and reassure your mother, and then come to Ruthan’s house so I can tend to the wound.”

Cam stood, not even wobbly any more. “But he said . . .”

“Yes, just a moment, Healer.” Callo took the boy’s hand and led him to the mare. Cam stood taller as they walked. Miri snorted and tossed her head. Callo laid a hand on the mare’s neck and stroked her.

“Cam, this is Miri. She is descended from a long line of Leyish purebreds, so she is strong and fast, but sometimes she is nervous as well. I’m sorry she hurt you.”

Cam hesitated. Then he stroked the mare’s neck. Miri looked at him with her soft brown eyes and whickered. The boy broke into a smile.

“See, she feels friendly to you now,” Callo said.

Cam held out his palm, and Miri snuffled it with her soft nose.

“Come up to the Castle stable sometime, and ask one of the grooms to let you see her. You can look around at the other horses, as well. I’ll leave word it’s all right. Would you like that?”

Cam nodded, speechless. Then he gave a hurried bow and ran off to his waiting mother.

Lord Callo loosed Miri’s rein and turned her away from the small crowd that had gathered. He bade his goodbyes to Elder Hame and began to lead the mare away.

“Lord Callo!” Kirian said, impelled by some odd attraction to draw his attention again. “Thank you for your help.”

“It would have been simpler had you kept that boy from throwing rocks at my mare. No wonder she startled.” Kirian heard the snap of temper in his voice.

“Elder Hame will deal with Peak,” she said.

“Or I will,” Callo said.

“It will not happen again, I am sure.”

“And what were you thinking, Healer, to let that child touch a strange animal anyway?”

“Is your mare dangerous, then, my lord?”

“Well.” Callo paused. “She is not a dangerous animal. You are a sweet-tempered lady, aren’t you, my good one?” His hand stroked Miri’s neck. They began walking down the strand toward the path.

“How is Lord Arias?” Kirian asked, taking advantage of the change in his tone.

Callo’s amber eyes met hers. There was a glint of humor behind them. “He is fine. But he speaks of nothing but the Watch. It is hard to get away from the subject.”

Kirian laughed. “So he is well. I am glad. And thank you for your invitation to Cam. He does love horses. And he is in awe of you, I saw that. He was like a statue as I checked his arm, and I know it was painful.” She remembered the boy’s odd stillness.

Callo shrugged. “Perhaps he did not wish to weep in front of a stranger from the Castle.” He glanced up at the CastleWatchTower. Kirian thought he must be eager to be on his way.

“Thank you, my lord. Now I must go to Ruthan’s. The boy will be coming to have his shoulder bandaged under better conditions.”

Callo nodded. “It is good to see you again, Hon Kirian,” he said. He swung up into the saddle and smiled down at her. “Tell the boy to come up tomorrow.”

She nodded and inclined her head in an informal bow. Lord Alkiran would have upbraided her in his bitter voice for such disrespect; however, Lord Callo just made a gesture of farewell and turned Miri toward the cliff path. Kirian stared after him. His long hair shone in the morning sun, and she had the oddest impression that there was a slight glow about him. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. The man was attractive, surely, but no god. She turned and went back to tell Ruthan about young Cam’s misadventure.

Ruthan sat near her window; she had seen Lord Callo take his leave. When Kirian came in, the old woman grinned at her, showing yellowed teeth. “You are letting that lordling get to you, young Kirian—I can see it.”

Kirian laughed. “I suppose so. He is very handsome.”

“And a
righ
, remember that. Oh, by all means indulge your eye—you’re young, after all. But never forget who they spring from, the
righ,
and what they care about. It’s not us; that’s certain.”

Kirian unwrapped her cloak. Her face stung as her chilled skin began to warm in the heat of Ruthan’s crackling fire. “You sound like someone I knew at College. He cursed all nobles.”

“I have reason. Look, do you see Gru on the docks sometimes, doing naught much of anything?”

Kirian nodded. Gru was a man of middle years whom she guessed had once been able and energetic. Now the man spent all day sitting on the docks, in the sun or hooded and cloaked in the wind, sometimes drinking, sometimes just dreaming. His face was weathered, but there were remnants of beauty there. He was married with two children, yet Kirian noticed that his wife and children mostly ignored him.