determination, “you may
smile, but this isn’t our own country. It shares a world and a sun with us,
yes—but it’s as alien as any world on the far side of Gates.”
“That’s well enough put,” said Vanyi, unperturbed by the
girl’s presumption. She turned back to the map. “So. Demons in the mountains.
There’s a pass, this says, that seneldi can cross. Yes?”
“In this season,” Talian said with a little less
trepidation, “lady, yes. You won’t want to delay too long, or go too slow. The
snows close in early at those heights.”
“There really are no seneldi here?” asked one of the Olenyai.
“Really,” said Talian. “They have a kind of ox that draws
their wagons, but no swift riding animal.”
“Then how do they wage their wars?”
“On foot,” Chakan answered for the Guardian, “and well
enough for that, I’m sure. Our traders, once it’s safe for them to come here,
should make a great profit from the sale of seneldi. A whole new realm, empty
of them. Remarkable.”
“It is strange,” Talian agreed, “like everything else here.
They don’t have mages, either.”
“Everyone has mages,” said Vanyi. “How can they help it?
Even where there’s no Guild to teach the spells, mages are born, and grow up to
wield the lightnings.”
“There are none here,” said Talian.
“None that anyone will admit to, you’re saying.” Vanyi
frowned at the map. “Suppression, then. Witch-hunts, I’d wager. Children
disposed of when they begin to show the gifts.”
“It could be, lady,” Talian said. “They are afraid of magic;
they won’t talk about it, or let it be mentioned.”
“It took mages to break the Gates,” said Vanyi.
“But need they have been native mages?” Chakan met her glare
with limpid eyes. “Consider, lady. Between the Mageguild and the priesthood of
god and goddess, our part of the world has made magery a known and regimented
thing. We take it for granted. Here in Merukarion, how do we know what’s common
and what’s not? The gift might not appear here, for whatever reason. If there
are mages, who’s to say they’re not renegades of our own country, who hate the
Guild and mean to break it as they can?”
“Possible,” said Vanyi. “But my bones don’t think so. They
tell me it’s something else, something that comes out of here.” Her finger
tapped the map where it marked the kingdom of Shurakan. “Tell me about the
Kingdom of Heaven.”
The Guardian looked briefly rebellious, as if she wanted to
remind the Guildmaster that she had been told everything that anyone knew. But
she controlled herself. Maybe she reflected that everyone here might not have
shared the counsels of the Guild, and that they should know what they
confronted before they went out to face it.
“The Kingdom of Heaven,” she said after a pause, in the tone
of one teaching a lesson to a circle of intelligent children, “is called
Su-Shaklan in their language. Our tongues are more comfortable calling it
Shurakan. It keeps to itself, people say here, to the point that while it
permits foreigners to pass its guarded gates, it does so only on sufferance,
and never allows them to stay past a certain fixed term. That varies according
to the purpose for which the strangers come. Ambassadors may linger a season;
two, if they come too near the winter, when the passes are shut and the mountains
impenetrable till spring.”
“Why are they so wary?” asked Chakan. “Have they had enemies
so bitter that they fear all strangers?”
“I think not,” Vanyi said. “Consider where they are. Here
are the mountains, so high they touch the sky—there’s no air to breathe, it’s
said, and anyone who climbs so high, unless he’s a mage and spell-guarded, will
die. And they have no mages, we’re told. And here’s their kingdom, a valley no
larger than a barony in our empire, and a small one at that. It’s green, warm,
rich, everything that’s blessed, and more so after the barrenness
smile, but this isn’t our own country. It shares a world and a sun with us,
yes—but it’s as alien as any world on the far side of Gates.”
“That’s well enough put,” said Vanyi, unperturbed by the
girl’s presumption. She turned back to the map. “So. Demons in the mountains.
There’s a pass, this says, that seneldi can cross. Yes?”
“In this season,” Talian said with a little less
trepidation, “lady, yes. You won’t want to delay too long, or go too slow. The
snows close in early at those heights.”
“There really are no seneldi here?” asked one of the Olenyai.
“Really,” said Talian. “They have a kind of ox that draws
their wagons, but no swift riding animal.”
“Then how do they wage their wars?”
“On foot,” Chakan answered for the Guardian, “and well
enough for that, I’m sure. Our traders, once it’s safe for them to come here,
should make a great profit from the sale of seneldi. A whole new realm, empty
of them. Remarkable.”
“It is strange,” Talian agreed, “like everything else here.
They don’t have mages, either.”
“Everyone has mages,” said Vanyi. “How can they help it?
Even where there’s no Guild to teach the spells, mages are born, and grow up to
wield the lightnings.”
“There are none here,” said Talian.
“None that anyone will admit to, you’re saying.” Vanyi
frowned at the map. “Suppression, then. Witch-hunts, I’d wager. Children
disposed of when they begin to show the gifts.”
“It could be, lady,” Talian said. “They are afraid of magic;
they won’t talk about it, or let it be mentioned.”
“It took mages to break the Gates,” said Vanyi.
“But need they have been native mages?” Chakan met her glare
with limpid eyes. “Consider, lady. Between the Mageguild and the priesthood of
god and goddess, our part of the world has made magery a known and regimented
thing. We take it for granted. Here in Merukarion, how do we know what’s common
and what’s not? The gift might not appear here, for whatever reason. If there
are mages, who’s to say they’re not renegades of our own country, who hate the
Guild and mean to break it as they can?”
“Possible,” said Vanyi. “But my bones don’t think so. They
tell me it’s something else, something that comes out of here.” Her finger
tapped the map where it marked the kingdom of Shurakan. “Tell me about the
Kingdom of Heaven.”
The Guardian looked briefly rebellious, as if she wanted to
remind the Guildmaster that she had been told everything that anyone knew. But
she controlled herself. Maybe she reflected that everyone here might not have
shared the counsels of the Guild, and that they should know what they
confronted before they went out to face it.
“The Kingdom of Heaven,” she said after a pause, in the tone
of one teaching a lesson to a circle of intelligent children, “is called
Su-Shaklan in their language. Our tongues are more comfortable calling it
Shurakan. It keeps to itself, people say here, to the point that while it
permits foreigners to pass its guarded gates, it does so only on sufferance,
and never allows them to stay past a certain fixed term. That varies according
to the purpose for which the strangers come. Ambassadors may linger a season;
two, if they come too near the winter, when the passes are shut and the mountains
impenetrable till spring.”
“Why are they so wary?” asked Chakan. “Have they had enemies
so bitter that they fear all strangers?”
“I think not,” Vanyi said. “Consider where they are. Here
are the mountains, so high they touch the sky—there’s no air to breathe, it’s
said, and anyone who climbs so high, unless he’s a mage and spell-guarded, will
die. And they have no mages, we’re told. And here’s their kingdom, a valley no
larger than a barony in our empire, and a small one at that. It’s green, warm,
rich, everything that’s blessed, and more so after the barrenness
Similar Books
