Magic Study (8 page)

  I rubbed my neck. My hand came away sticky with blood. Exploring with my fingertips, I found a deep gash at the base of my skull and a smaller cut above my left temple. I tapped my bun and moved my hand away with what I hoped was a casual motion. My lock picks were still holding up some of my hair, and I prayed Goel didn’t see them.

  A possible means of escape was within reach. I just needed some time unguarded. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like that would happen any time soon; two men came out of the tent and headed straight toward me.

  “He wants to see her,” one man said as they hauled me to my feet.

  They dragged me toward the tent. Goel followed. I was pulled inside and dumped on the floor. When my eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight, I saw the young horseman sitting at a canvas table. Leif, unchained and unharmed, sat beside him. My backpack was on the table, and my possessions had been spread out.

  With effort, I stood. “Friends of yours?” I asked Leif.

  Something hard connected with the side of my head, slamming me back to the ground. Leif half rose from his seat, but settled when the horseman touched his sleeve.

  “That was unnecessary, Goel,” the horseman said. “Wait outside.”

  “She spoke without permission.”

  “If she fails to show the proper respect, you may teach her some manners. Now go,” ordered the horseman.

  I struggled to my feet again. Goel left, but the other two guards remained by the door. By now my patience was gone. If I were quick enough, I might be able to wrap the foot of chain hanging between my wrists around the horseman’s neck.

  As I was gauging the distance, the horseman said, “I wouldn’t try anything stupid.” He lifted a long, broad sword from his lap.

  “Who the hell are you and what do you want?” I demanded.

  “Watch your language or I’ll call Goel back,” he replied with a smile.

  “Go ahead, call him back. Take my manacles off and let us have a fair fight.” When he didn’t reply, I added, “Guess you’re afraid I’d win. Typical ambusher mentality.”

  He looked at Leif in amazement. Leif stared back with concern, and I wondered what had gone on between them. Friends or foes?

  “You failed to mention this bravado. Of course,” he turned back to me, “it could all be an act.”

  “Try me,” I said.

  The horseman laughed. Despite his full blond beard and mustache, he still looked younger than I. Maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. His eyes were a washed-out blue, and his shoulder-length blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a simple light gray tunic. Even from this distance, I could tell that his shirt’s fabric was finer than the guards’ clothes.

  “What do you want?” I asked again.

  “Information.”

  I gaped at his unexpected answer.

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “Don’t play the simpleton with me. I want military statistics on Ixia. Troop size and location. Strengths. Weaknesses. How many weapons? Valek’s precise location. Who and where his other spies are. That type of information.”

  “Why would you think I know all this?”

  He glanced at Leif, and sudden understanding flooded my mind. “You think I’m a northern spy.” I sighed. Leif
had
set me up. That’s why the horseman knew Leif was my brother. Leif’s fear and shock during the ambush had all been an act. He had no business with the First Magician. No wonder he hadn’t said a word since I had arrived in the tent.

  “All right, since everyone believes I’m a spy, I guess I should act like one.” I crossed my arms to achieve a defiant posture. The clang of the manacles didn’t help the image, but I sallied forth anyway. “I’m not telling you southern scum anything.”

  “You’ll have no choice.”

  “Then you’re in for a surprise.” Meaning I didn’t have the answers he sought. If he had wanted to know the Commander’s favorite food, I’d be happy to oblige.

  “I could have Goel torture the information out of you,” he said. “He would enjoy that. But that’s rather messy and time-consuming. And I always consider facts divulged under stress to be suspect.”

  The horseman rose from his chair, and walked around the table, coming closer to me. He clutched his sword in his right hand, trying to be intimidating. He was about seven inches taller than me and he had tucked his dark gray pants into knee-high black leather riding boots.

  “You’re the one in for a surprise, because I’m going to bring you to the Magician’s Keep where First Magician will peel your mind like a banana, exposing the soft center where all the answers lie. Your brain gets a little mashed in the process-” he shrugged his shoulders as if unconcerned about this detail “-but the information is always accurate.”

  Real fear brushed my skin for the first time since I had awakened a prisoner. Perhaps I’d made a mistake in playing the spy. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I said I didn’t have what you wanted?”

  The horseman shook his head. “The proof of your loyalties is in your backpack. Ixian coins and your northern uniform.”

  “Which really proves I’m
not
a spy, because Valek would never recruit someone stupid enough to carry her uniform on a mission,” I said in frustration, but regretted having mentioned Valek’s name. A “she-just-gave-herself-away” look flashed between the horseman and Leif.

  I tried to stall for time. “Who are you and why do you want this information?”

  “I’m King Cahil Ixia. And I want my throne.”

Chapter Six

  King of Ixia? This young idiot was claiming to be a king?

  “The King of Ixia is dead,” I said.

  “I’m well aware that your
boss,
Valek, murdered the King and all his family when Commander Ambrose took control of Ixia. But he made what will soon prove to be a fatal mistake.” Cahil jabbed his sword into the air. “He didn’t count the bodies, and the King’s six-year-old nephew was smuggled to the south. I’m the heir to the Ixian throne and I plan to claim it.”

  “You’ll need more men,” I said.

  “How many more?” he asked with considerable interest.

  “More than twelve.” My best guess of the number of men in the camp.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. The Commander’s military and corps of assassins are enough of a threat to Sitia to provide me with plenty of followers. Besides-” he thought for a moment “-once I deliver you to the Citadel, and show them that I’ve uncovered a dangerous spy, they’ll have no choice but to support my campaign against Ambrose. I’ll have the whole Sitian army at my command.”

  He failed to impress me. Instead, he reminded me of a boy playing with toy soldiers. I did a quick mental calculation. Cahil was a year older than me, making him twenty-one.

  “So you’re taking me to the Citadel?” I asked.

  He nodded. “There, First Magician will reap the information from your mind.” He smiled as a greedy glint sparked in his eyes.

  Somehow, I had missed the connection of the Magician and the Citadel the first time Cahil had mentioned it. The reference to them mashing my brains must have thrown me off.

  “I’m going to the Citadel anyway. Why all the trouble?” I unfolded my arms, showing the manacles.

  “You are masquerading as a student. Unfortunately, the Magicians take their Ethical Code very serious, and won’t interrogate you unless you’re caught doing something illegal. Without my intervention, they would have invited you in, and taught you all the secrets of Sitia.”

  So I was to be his proof. He wanted to show them that he had saved the Sitians from a menacing criminal. “Okay. I’ll go with you to the Citadel.” I offered my wrists. “Remove these, and I won’t give you any trouble.”

  “And what’s to stop you from running off?” he asked. There was a hitch of disbelief in his voice.

  “My word.”

  “Your word means nothing,” Leif said.

  His first verbalization of the night, and I felt a strong urge to quiet him with my fist. I stared at him, beaming the promise of a future confrontation.

  Cahil appeared unconvinced.

  “How about the twelve men you have guarding me?” I asked.

  “No. You’re my prisoner. You should be dressed as such.” Cahil waved his hand, and the two guards by the tent’s entrance grabbed my arms.

  Meeting over. I was dragged from the tent and dumped by the fire, where Goel resumed his hawklike guard. Cahil had left me no choice. I would
not
arrive at the Citadel as his prize.

  I lay there, watching and listening to the men as a simple plan formed in my mind. When the camp settled in for the night, two men relieved Goel. I feigned sleep, waiting until the second shift of men had enough time to grow bored.

  Magic was the only weapon I had left; yet I was uncertain of my strength and abilities. What I planned to do could be considered a direct violation of the Magicians’ Ethical Code, but, at this point, I didn’t care. I would have preferred to fight, but I was out of options and time.

  Breathing deep, I tried to project my awareness out. Without the aid of my bow, I failed miserably. I couldn’t focus. Not wanting to risk any big movements, I rubbed my thumbs along my fingertips. The skin contact helped to center my mind until I could push it away from me.

  I had hoped my guards would be drowsy, but one whistled under his breath and the other reviewed military tactics in his head, although I could feel the desire for sleep pulling at their minds.

  I used that desire. I gave a mental command to sleep, and crossed my fingers. My knowledge of magic was very limited; I had no idea if it would work. At first, resistance pushed back. I tried again. Soon, the two men sank to the ground, but still remained awake. I had wanted to be subtle, but the night was running out. Sleep, I ordered with force, and they fell over.

  The chains clanked when I sat up. Pressing them to my beating chest, I scanned the slumbering men. I had forgotten about the noise. Since I could only use one hand and my mouth, picking the manacles’ locks would be difficult and loud, so I revised my plan. Perhaps I could send all the men into a deep sleep where noise would not rouse them.

  I projected my awareness, touching each man’s mind, putting them into a heavy, dreamless slumber. Cahil slept on a cot in the tent. While I would have enjoyed rifling through his mind, I settled for sending him into an unconscious state. Leif’s magical protection prevented me from affecting him. I hoped he was a heavy sleeper.

  Working with my diamond pick in one hand and with the tension wrench between my teeth, I managed to pop the locks on my wrist manacles after a fifth attempt. The sky began to brighten a shade. My time was slipping away. I crept into the tent to retrieve my backpack, stuffing my belongings into it. I made more noise then I wanted, but my instincts told me that full dawn would waken the men. As I fled, I grabbed my bow from beside the guard who had claimed it.

  Running through the forest, I noticed that the darkness faded with every stride. My thoughts turned sluggish, and I huffed for breath as weakness pulled at my legs. Using magic on the men had drained my energy.

  I scanned the treetops, looking for a big leaf variety with lots of branches. Spotting a tree with potential, I halted and took my grapple and rope from my backpack.

  By the time I managed to hook a branch, my arms felt like rubber. I had to smile at the irony of my situation, though, as I pulled myself up the rope. This was the third time I had used the treetops for escape, and the climb was becoming almost routine. But the distant shouts of angry men spurred me on.

  When I reached the top, I reeled in my rope, and then scrambled to a higher limb for more cover. I wrapped Fern’s green cloth around me as I sat with my back to the trunk, my knees drawn to my chest. Leaving a gap to see through, I settled in for a long wait. I hoped my strength would return soon.

  Hearing a commotion, I imagined the scene going on at Cahil’s camp. The reprimand of the guards who fell asleep during their watch; the discovery that my backpack and effects were missing. I trusted that made Cahil pause, knowing that I had stood only a few feet from him and let him live.

  My position in the tree was closer to the camp than I had wanted. Searchers with drawn swords came into view sooner than I had anticipated. I froze in my green cocoon.

  Goel led the men. He stooped to inspect a bush, and then called, “This way. She’s not far. The sap’s still sticky.”

  Rivers of sweat ran down my skin. Goel was a tracker. I moved my hand, finding the slit in my pants. My switchblade hadn’t been confiscated. Grabbing the smooth wood of the handle made me feel a bit better.

  He stopped at the bottom of my tree. I shifted my weight forward and crouched on the branch, preparing to flee if needed.

  Goel examined the ground around the base of the trunk. His eyes slid up into the branches. My breath locked as cold fear splashed through me. I realized I had made a grave mistake.

  A predatory smile spread across Goel’s lips. “Found you.”

Chapter Seven