meditate.
The third day from the forest, during one of these stops, I heard the distant sound of hoofbeats. I debated whether I should interrupt Anazian’s meditation or not. He could no longer use the privacy that had been afforded by the trees, but he typically walked quite a way away. That hadn’t bothered me until now, when the approach of horses brought back sharply the memory of what had happened last time we’d been overtaken in a similar situation.
Whether it was a coincidence or he, too, heard them coming, he strode up to the wagon just as the riders came into view. My heart leapt in its first fearful reaction in days when I recognized the purple and scarlet uniforms of the Royal Guard.
They reined in and, much to my surprise, greeted Anazian as if he were a friend. There were three of them, all officers with plumes in their helms. One asked how his mission went, and they all laughed when he made a motion toward me. I flinched from their glances. After all, I’d spent months on the run from them, and having them looking at me now made me feel exposed and vulnerable, as if I were naked.
Anazian offered them food for themselves and grain for their horses—as recompense for his troubles, he’d taken extra supplies from the thieves, so we had some to spare—but they declined, saying they expected to reach their station before nightfall.
“See you in Penwick, you old magician, you,” one of them called after they’d said their goodbyes. Then they spurred their horses into a gallop and were gone even faster than they’d come.
Once they were well beyond hearing, Anazian muttered, “I’m neither old nor a magician, you fool,” and the venom in his voice surprised me.
That evening as I cooked our meal, I remembered my resolve to try to get information out of the mage, a resolve forgotten after the episode with the thieves.
Trying to make it sound like inconsequential chatter, I asked, “So those Royal Guardsmen were friends of yours?”
That roused Anazian from his lethargy a little. “Friends? I hardly think so.”
“Oh.” I waited a bit, then went on. “They seemed to know a lot about your business, so I thought they must be friends.”
He laughed lightly. “If you must know, my ‘business,’ as you call it, had to be made known to the Royal Guard to ensure safe passage on the king’s roads. I would prefer it had been kept secret, but the decision wasn’t mine.”
I let it drop at this point. Although tired, Anazian wasn’t as weak as he’d typically been the first evenings of our journey. Perhaps he was getting used to the routine; perhaps four meditation sessions a day kept him from being too weak to think straight at the end of the day. Whatever the reason, I thought it prudent not to push my luck too far. Besides, with two short questions, I’d received enough answer to give me something to ponder: the Royal Guard knew what was going on.
Or, on further thought, perhaps they didn’t. I could well imagine they’d been told a lie. Still, the fact that they knew who Anazian was didn’t bode well. After all, less than three months ago, he’d been in hiding with the mages. How could he have become so well-known in such a short time? Then I chided myself. He hadn’t suddenly turned traitor overnight. It was something that had probably been in the works for years.
Early the next morning we came to a crossroads. Three large bundles lay in the middle of the junction. Anazian stopped the horses and went to examine the bundles. With a laugh, he dragged one to the side of the road, and now I could discern the shape of a human body. One dressed in purple and scarlet. Twice more he dragged a body aside and, when the roadway was clear, turned back to the wagon.
A bird flew up just then, and Anazian removed a message from a tube tied to its ankle. It came over and perched on one of the bars across the top of my cage while the mage read the message. He stood still for a long time afterward,
The third day from the forest, during one of these stops, I heard the distant sound of hoofbeats. I debated whether I should interrupt Anazian’s meditation or not. He could no longer use the privacy that had been afforded by the trees, but he typically walked quite a way away. That hadn’t bothered me until now, when the approach of horses brought back sharply the memory of what had happened last time we’d been overtaken in a similar situation.
Whether it was a coincidence or he, too, heard them coming, he strode up to the wagon just as the riders came into view. My heart leapt in its first fearful reaction in days when I recognized the purple and scarlet uniforms of the Royal Guard.
They reined in and, much to my surprise, greeted Anazian as if he were a friend. There were three of them, all officers with plumes in their helms. One asked how his mission went, and they all laughed when he made a motion toward me. I flinched from their glances. After all, I’d spent months on the run from them, and having them looking at me now made me feel exposed and vulnerable, as if I were naked.
Anazian offered them food for themselves and grain for their horses—as recompense for his troubles, he’d taken extra supplies from the thieves, so we had some to spare—but they declined, saying they expected to reach their station before nightfall.
“See you in Penwick, you old magician, you,” one of them called after they’d said their goodbyes. Then they spurred their horses into a gallop and were gone even faster than they’d come.
Once they were well beyond hearing, Anazian muttered, “I’m neither old nor a magician, you fool,” and the venom in his voice surprised me.
That evening as I cooked our meal, I remembered my resolve to try to get information out of the mage, a resolve forgotten after the episode with the thieves.
Trying to make it sound like inconsequential chatter, I asked, “So those Royal Guardsmen were friends of yours?”
That roused Anazian from his lethargy a little. “Friends? I hardly think so.”
“Oh.” I waited a bit, then went on. “They seemed to know a lot about your business, so I thought they must be friends.”
He laughed lightly. “If you must know, my ‘business,’ as you call it, had to be made known to the Royal Guard to ensure safe passage on the king’s roads. I would prefer it had been kept secret, but the decision wasn’t mine.”
I let it drop at this point. Although tired, Anazian wasn’t as weak as he’d typically been the first evenings of our journey. Perhaps he was getting used to the routine; perhaps four meditation sessions a day kept him from being too weak to think straight at the end of the day. Whatever the reason, I thought it prudent not to push my luck too far. Besides, with two short questions, I’d received enough answer to give me something to ponder: the Royal Guard knew what was going on.
Or, on further thought, perhaps they didn’t. I could well imagine they’d been told a lie. Still, the fact that they knew who Anazian was didn’t bode well. After all, less than three months ago, he’d been in hiding with the mages. How could he have become so well-known in such a short time? Then I chided myself. He hadn’t suddenly turned traitor overnight. It was something that had probably been in the works for years.
Early the next morning we came to a crossroads. Three large bundles lay in the middle of the junction. Anazian stopped the horses and went to examine the bundles. With a laugh, he dragged one to the side of the road, and now I could discern the shape of a human body. One dressed in purple and scarlet. Twice more he dragged a body aside and, when the roadway was clear, turned back to the wagon.
A bird flew up just then, and Anazian removed a message from a tube tied to its ankle. It came over and perched on one of the bars across the top of my cage while the mage read the message. He stood still for a long time afterward,
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