Mage Slave
Page 80
She scampered on at full rat speed, leaping when the uneven stairs were farther than the normal distance apart, throwing all her energy after the sound of the footsteps. After him.
“Put this on,” the guard said, tossing a shirt in Aven’s face.
Guards had again arrived in his cell, but these didn’t seem like the others that had taken him to the smithy. They had a different air about them.
Was it morning? What were they planning?
He could only move slowly, gritting his teeth against new shocks of pain from the night before. He couldn’t remember Daes leaving or even passing out, but it must have happened at some point. Even now, he felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness, whether it was from the pain, the lack of sleep, the mental exhaustion. One more quick jerk, and perhaps he could have the shirt on—
He felt himself fall to the ground and into darkness.
“He has his father’s eyes.”
A man’s voice. Cold stone pressed against Aven’s cheek. His body lay uncomfortably sprawled on its side. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to hide that he’d awoken.
“You have done well for once, Daes, Seulka,” the voice continued. “Perhaps I should be asking you more often to attempt things I don’t think you can do.”
The slightest pause at the awkward comment.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Daes’s voice. Aven longed to clench his fist as a knot tightened in his stomach. It was best not to focus on the night before. At most, he could cling to the fact that he’d stuck to his story throughout.
And now he knew something, at least—the voice was King Demikin of Kavanar.
“The crown prince of Akaria. And I thought the feat impossible. Fine work, indeed. Especially for a bastard.”
Again the slightest pause. A bastard, eh? What was that all about?
“Several of our mages are very skilled,” said Daes, ignoring the comment with grace. “And only yesterday, I added six dozen to start additional similar training.” Aven didn’t like the sound of that.
“Excellent.”
“Also, these mages may have gotten quite lucky,” Seulka added. “We don’t know how repeatable it will be.”
“Well, we shall have time to find out, eh? And somehow we have yet to receive a declaration of war.” From the movement of the king’s voice, he seemed to be pacing in front of Aven. War, huh? Was this the intent all along? If they wanted war, why not just attack? Perhaps this was the direct method Daes was referring to. And perhaps they were truly concerned with getting at the star magic first, which made sense. Such a mission would have been significantly harder with a full-blown war underway.
“He’s not exactly what I pictured. Can you believe they let themselves get so bulky? Fighting is for foot soldiers. Far too much muscle.” The king paused, and Daes cleared his throat. Heh, didn’t agree, did he? “Like a damned farmer,” the king continued, circling Aven. His steps were soft, his voice like crunching gravel. “Commoners do menial labor, like wielding swords. Not royalty. And no painting can quite capture that stubborn glint around the eyes. But I digress. What shall we do with him, do you think? Daes, your thoughts?”
“We are fully prepared to kill him, sir, as you ordered. The real question is by what means and how quickly.”
“Indeed,” said the king.
“I recall it was your desire to kill him promptly this morning, after you were able to verify his identity. All preparations have been made, and it would be a worthy revenge for the Akarian wrongs against your family.”
“No revenge is worthy enough,” the king said, as though he would be the judge of that. What was he even referring to? The mages in the Dark Days had been Akarian, true enough… But they couldn’t still be holding on to such nonsense, could they? Oh, by the ancients. “But it will be a start. Especially when we strike fear into the hearts of every Akarian by returning his head on a pole.”
For the first time, Aven felt his body tense with the instinct to fight and survive. It had all been so politely diplomatic—even contemplative—up till that point that it hadn’t really seemed real. But now… well, he might not hear the details, but he was sure they were carefully calculating the most terrible outcome, at least for Akaria.
Perhaps he needed to think more seriously about how he was going to get out of this before he lost the chance.
Aven risked opening one eye the smallest amount he could. Red velvet robes draped across the black marble floor not far from him—the king. They were in the large receiving room where he’d last seen Miara. He could see servants entering from a side door, carrying steaming bowls. A small, gray cat ran in, dodging their heels as they headed for the dais. He couldn’t see it, but he knew the four leaders of this disgraceful place sat there on the other side of the king.
“If you are open to other timelines, however, we could potentially keep him alive for a bit. Find out what we can from him.” Daes paused for a second. Letting it sink in, or regretting he hadn’t gotten more—that he believed—out of Aven? “There could be much to glean about Akaria’s defenses, force preparation, plans for war, diplomatic relations.”
“A thoughtful approach. You are quite the brains of this war effort, Daes. But we also have your spies. Is it worth the effort to try to get it out of him? Will he really tell us anything the spies can’t find out anyway?”
Another slight pause. “Perhaps you are right, Your Majesty.”
Aven wanted to laugh out loud. By that tone of voice, he was fairly sure Daes did not at all agree with the king’s assessment. But for his own reasons, he chose not to say anything. Aven risked another slight peek, as the king was focused on Daes.
The gray cat had settled nearby, beside a guard. The king still stood before him.
“We could demand a tribute from Akaria. Returning him would be less rewarding for you, I’m sure, but it would bring much needed resources to the nation, such as their iron from the mountains.” So they needed iron? Good to know.
“Well, we could simply not return him after the tribute has been received.”
“Brilliant thinking, Cousin,” the woman chimed in.
Another slight pause. “Indeed,” said Daes. How could the king be missing how much the dark one clearly disapproved? “A tribute could also present opportunities for ambush and a chance at reducing Akarian forces before a war has fully begun. Which would be invaluable, in my opinion. Worth more than this prince, with certainty.”
“Put this on,” the guard said, tossing a shirt in Aven’s face.
Guards had again arrived in his cell, but these didn’t seem like the others that had taken him to the smithy. They had a different air about them.
Was it morning? What were they planning?
He could only move slowly, gritting his teeth against new shocks of pain from the night before. He couldn’t remember Daes leaving or even passing out, but it must have happened at some point. Even now, he felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness, whether it was from the pain, the lack of sleep, the mental exhaustion. One more quick jerk, and perhaps he could have the shirt on—
He felt himself fall to the ground and into darkness.
“He has his father’s eyes.”
A man’s voice. Cold stone pressed against Aven’s cheek. His body lay uncomfortably sprawled on its side. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to hide that he’d awoken.
“You have done well for once, Daes, Seulka,” the voice continued. “Perhaps I should be asking you more often to attempt things I don’t think you can do.”
The slightest pause at the awkward comment.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Daes’s voice. Aven longed to clench his fist as a knot tightened in his stomach. It was best not to focus on the night before. At most, he could cling to the fact that he’d stuck to his story throughout.
And now he knew something, at least—the voice was King Demikin of Kavanar.
“The crown prince of Akaria. And I thought the feat impossible. Fine work, indeed. Especially for a bastard.”
Again the slightest pause. A bastard, eh? What was that all about?
“Several of our mages are very skilled,” said Daes, ignoring the comment with grace. “And only yesterday, I added six dozen to start additional similar training.” Aven didn’t like the sound of that.
“Excellent.”
“Also, these mages may have gotten quite lucky,” Seulka added. “We don’t know how repeatable it will be.”
“Well, we shall have time to find out, eh? And somehow we have yet to receive a declaration of war.” From the movement of the king’s voice, he seemed to be pacing in front of Aven. War, huh? Was this the intent all along? If they wanted war, why not just attack? Perhaps this was the direct method Daes was referring to. And perhaps they were truly concerned with getting at the star magic first, which made sense. Such a mission would have been significantly harder with a full-blown war underway.
“He’s not exactly what I pictured. Can you believe they let themselves get so bulky? Fighting is for foot soldiers. Far too much muscle.” The king paused, and Daes cleared his throat. Heh, didn’t agree, did he? “Like a damned farmer,” the king continued, circling Aven. His steps were soft, his voice like crunching gravel. “Commoners do menial labor, like wielding swords. Not royalty. And no painting can quite capture that stubborn glint around the eyes. But I digress. What shall we do with him, do you think? Daes, your thoughts?”
“We are fully prepared to kill him, sir, as you ordered. The real question is by what means and how quickly.”
“Indeed,” said the king.
“I recall it was your desire to kill him promptly this morning, after you were able to verify his identity. All preparations have been made, and it would be a worthy revenge for the Akarian wrongs against your family.”
“No revenge is worthy enough,” the king said, as though he would be the judge of that. What was he even referring to? The mages in the Dark Days had been Akarian, true enough… But they couldn’t still be holding on to such nonsense, could they? Oh, by the ancients. “But it will be a start. Especially when we strike fear into the hearts of every Akarian by returning his head on a pole.”
For the first time, Aven felt his body tense with the instinct to fight and survive. It had all been so politely diplomatic—even contemplative—up till that point that it hadn’t really seemed real. But now… well, he might not hear the details, but he was sure they were carefully calculating the most terrible outcome, at least for Akaria.
Perhaps he needed to think more seriously about how he was going to get out of this before he lost the chance.
Aven risked opening one eye the smallest amount he could. Red velvet robes draped across the black marble floor not far from him—the king. They were in the large receiving room where he’d last seen Miara. He could see servants entering from a side door, carrying steaming bowls. A small, gray cat ran in, dodging their heels as they headed for the dais. He couldn’t see it, but he knew the four leaders of this disgraceful place sat there on the other side of the king.
“If you are open to other timelines, however, we could potentially keep him alive for a bit. Find out what we can from him.” Daes paused for a second. Letting it sink in, or regretting he hadn’t gotten more—that he believed—out of Aven? “There could be much to glean about Akaria’s defenses, force preparation, plans for war, diplomatic relations.”
“A thoughtful approach. You are quite the brains of this war effort, Daes. But we also have your spies. Is it worth the effort to try to get it out of him? Will he really tell us anything the spies can’t find out anyway?”
Another slight pause. “Perhaps you are right, Your Majesty.”
Aven wanted to laugh out loud. By that tone of voice, he was fairly sure Daes did not at all agree with the king’s assessment. But for his own reasons, he chose not to say anything. Aven risked another slight peek, as the king was focused on Daes.
The gray cat had settled nearby, beside a guard. The king still stood before him.
“We could demand a tribute from Akaria. Returning him would be less rewarding for you, I’m sure, but it would bring much needed resources to the nation, such as their iron from the mountains.” So they needed iron? Good to know.
“Well, we could simply not return him after the tribute has been received.”
“Brilliant thinking, Cousin,” the woman chimed in.
Another slight pause. “Indeed,” said Daes. How could the king be missing how much the dark one clearly disapproved? “A tribute could also present opportunities for ambush and a chance at reducing Akarian forces before a war has fully begun. Which would be invaluable, in my opinion. Worth more than this prince, with certainty.”
