The Chronicles Of Ixia (Books 1-6). Maria V. Snyder
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“I’m sorry, Yelena.” The words tore from his throat as if it pained him to say them. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said you weren’t a spy. I’m sorry I asked First Magician to—” he swallowed. “To rape your mind.”
I turned my face away from him. “That apology is weeks old, Cahil. Why bother now?”
He sighed. “Plans are being made for the New Beginnings feast.”
Some hitch in Cahil’s voice caused me to look at him. He wrapped and unwrapped Topaz’s leather reins around his hands.
“It’s a feast to celebrate the beginning of the cooling season and the new school year. A chance for everyone to get together and start anew.” Cahil’s blue eyes searched mine. “In all these years, I have never wanted to take anyone with me. I never had anyone who I wanted to have by my side. Yet when I overheard the cooks discussing the feast’s menu this morning, your image filled my mind. Come with me, Yelena?”
14
CAHIL’S WORDS STRUCK ME like a physical blow. I jerked back a step.
His face saddened at my reaction. “I guess that’s a no. We’d probably just fight all night anyway.” He began to walk away.
“Cahil, wait,” I said, catching up to him. “You surprised me.” An understatement for sure.
I had believed that the only thing Cahil wanted from me was information about Ixia. This invitation might still be a ploy, but for the first time I saw a softness behind his eyes. I put my hand on his arm. He stopped.
“Does everyone go to this New Beginnings feast?” I asked him.
“Yes. It’s a good way for the new students to meet their teachers, and a chance for everyone to get reacquainted. I’m going because I’ll be teaching the senior and apprentice classes about horsemanship.”
“So, I’m not your first student?”
“No, but you’ve been my most stubborn one.” He smiled ruefully.
I smiled in return. Cahil’s eyes lit up.
“Okay, Cahil, in the spirit of this New Beginnings feast, let’s start over. I’m willing to accompany you to the feast as the first step in our new friendship.” Besides, the thought of going alone to meet my fellow students seemed daunting.
“Friendship?”
“That’s all I can offer.”
“Because of the person who gave you that butterfly pendant?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And what did you give him in return?”
I wanted to snap that it was none of his business, but I controlled my temper. If we were going to be friends, he needed to know the truth. “My heart.” I could have added my body, my trust and my soul.
He looked at me for a moment. “Guess I’ll have to be content with friendship.” He grinned. “Does this mean you won’t be so difficult anymore?”
“Don’t count on it.”
He laughed and helped me carry my market purchases back to my rooms. I spent the rest of the night reading the chapters Bain had assigned, stopping on occasion to think about Cahil’s new role as friend in my life.
I enjoyed my fascinating mornings with Bain Bloodgood. Sitian history extended back for centuries. The eleven Sitian clans fought with each other for decades until Windri Green-tree, a Master Magician, united them and formed the Council of Elders. I realized to my dismay, and to Bain’s delight, that I had a great deal of study ahead of me to learn the full history. And their mythology alone, populated with creatures, demons and legends, would take years of lessons to know them all.
Bain also explained the structure of the school. “Every student has a magician as a mentor. That mentor oversees the student’s learning. He teaches. He guides. He schedules classes with other magicians who have more expertise in certain subjects.”
“How many students are in each class?” I asked.
Bain swept his hand through the air, indicating the room, empty except for us. We sat in an open circular chamber at the base of his tower. Books lined the walls in neat piles, and writing projects covered each of Bain’s four ink-stained worktables. The metal rings of Bain’s astrolabe glowed in the morning sunlight.
I perched on the edge of his wide desk. Small writing tools and piles of papers rested on the top in an organized arrangement. A white seashell appeared to be his only decoration. Sitting across from me, Bain wore a deep purple robe that drank in the light. His diverse collection of robes amazed me. So far, he was the only magician I’d seen that wore a formal robe on a daily basis.
“We are a class,” he said. “There can be up to four students, but no more. You will not see rows upon rows of students listening to a lecturer in this school. We teach using hands-on learning and small groups.”
“How many students does each mentor have?”
“No more than four for those who have experience. Only one for the new magicians.”
“How many do the Master Magicians teach?” I was dreading the day when I would have to share Irys.
“Ah …” He paused. For once Bain seemed at a loss for words. “The Masters do not mentor students. We are needed in Council meetings. We aid Sitia. We recruit prospective students. But occasionally a student comes along that piques our interest.”
He gazed at me as if deciding how much he should tell me. “I have grown weary of Council meetings. So I have transferred all my energies to teaching. This year I have two students. Roze has chosen only one since she became First Magician. Zitora has none. She is adjusting; she only became a Master last year.”
“And Irys?”
“You’re her first.”
“Just me?” I asked in amazement.
He nodded.
“You said Roze chose one. Who?”
“Your brother, Leif.”
Evidence that the Keep prepared for an invasion of returning students mounted as the week progressed. Servants scurried to air out rooms and dorms. The kitchen buzzed with activity as the staff prepared for the feast. Even the Citadel’s streets hummed with life as residents returned. In the evenings, laughter and music floated on the cooling air.
As I waited for Irys to return from fetching Tula’s sister, I spent my mornings with Bain, my afternoons studying and my evenings with Cahil and Kiki. My riding had advanced from walking Kiki to trotting, a bone-jarring gait that left me stiff and sore at the end of the day.
Every night I sat with Tula, connecting with her and lending her my support. Her mind remained vacant, but her brutalized body healed by leaps and bounds.
“Do you have healing powers?” Hayes asked me one night. “Her physical progress has been amazing. More like the work of two healers.”
I considered his question. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“Perhaps you’ve been helping her heal without realizing it. Would you like to find out?”
“I don’t want to hurt her,” I said.
“I won’t let you.” Hayes smiled as he picked up Tula’s left hand. The splints on her right hand were gone, but the fingers on her left were still swollen and bruised. “I have only enough energy to mend a few bones a day. Usually we let the body heal on its own. But for serious injuries, we speed up the process.”
“How?”
“I draw power to me. Then I focus on the injury. Skin and muscles disappear before my eyes, revealing