“How?” she asked; then, as she realised the answer was obvious, she shook her head. “Slaves.”
“Yes.”
“Who lives there now?”
“Whoever was lucky enough to inherit or wealthy enough to buy them.”
“People want to live in houses built by Sachakans?”
“They are well designed. Warm in the winter, cool in the summer. The best of them have bathing rooms with piped hot water.” He shrugged. “While we consider Sachakans barbaric for enslaving others, they consider us so for being unsophisticated and dirty.”
“At least we learned when exposed to their ways. We adopted their technologies, but they remained slavers,” Jayan said.
“They gave us back our independence,” Dakon pointed out. “Through negotiation, not war, which was a first for Sachaka. Did that willingness to talk rather than fight stem from our influence?”
Jayan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps.”
“What was Kyralia like before the Sachakans came?” Tessia asked.
“A lot of independently ruled leys that were in conflict with each other as often as they were at peace,” Dakon told her. “No one ruler controlled all, though the lord of the southern ley was by far the most powerful. Everyone came to Imardin to trade, and he grew rich on the wealth that came from controlling the centre of commerce.”
“Is King Errik descended from that lord?”
“No, the southern lord died in the invasion. Our king is descended from one of the men who negotiated our independence.”
“How did magicians live before the invasion?”
“There weren’t many, and most sold their services to ley lords. No more than seven are mentioned in the few records left from that time. There is no description of higher magic, either. Some people believe the Sachakans discovered higher magic, and that was why they conquered so many lands so quickly. But eventually they lost them again as the knowledge of higher magic spread in those lands and local magicians began to equal them in strength.”
The wagon turned into one of the side streets. Realising she had forgotten to count the streets, Tessia glanced around for some indication of which one they had entered. On the wall of one of the corner buildings was a painted metal plaque.
Fourth Street, it read.
Remembering her lessons on Imardin, Tessia knew that people living in houses closer to the palace were usually more important and powerful than those living further down the hill, although it wasn’t always true. Some powerful families lived closer to Market Square because they or their predecessors had lost their wealth but not their influence, or perhaps because they simply liked their house and didn’t want to move. But the opposite did not happen: no poor or insignificant families lived above Third Street.
Tessia had wondered, back when Dakon had told her of the social structure in Imardin, if there was a constant shuffle of householders as wealth and influence waxed and waned. He had told her that houses changed owners only rarely. The powerful families of Kyralia had learned to hold on to what they had, and only the most dramatic of circumstances wrested it from their hands.
If Dakon’s hosts lived on Fourth Street they must be important. Most of the houses that Tessia could see were Sachakan-built – or perhaps facsimiles. The wagon pulled up before a large wooden door within a recessed porch. A man dressed in uniform stepped forward and bowed.
“Welcome, Lord Dakon,” the man said. He nodded stiffly to Jayan, “Apprentice Jayan,” and then, to her surprise, towards herself. “Apprentice Tessia. Lord Everran and Lady Avaria are expecting you, and bid you enter and join them for afternoon refreshments.”
“Thank you, Lerran,” Dakon said, climbing out of the wagon. “Are the lord and lady well?”
“Lady Avaria has been a bit low and slow, but much better this past month.”
Tessia smiled. “Low and slow” referred to the assumption that someone who appeared pale and tired probably had a cool body and a slow heartbeat. It was not always the case, and the saying had more to do with ideas the uneducated had come up with from overheard comments by healers.
When they had all alighted, the driver took the wagon away, steering it through a much larger opening in the house’s façade. Lerran led them through the doors. Instead of a grand greeting hall, they entered a wide passage. Dakon looked back at Tessia.
“In Sachakan homes this is known as the ‘approach’,” he told her. “The room at the end is known as the ‘master’s room’ as it is where the owner of the house greets and entertains visitors, and serves meals.”
The room they entered was huge. Benches covered in cushions were spread around the floor, and where large cabinets did not cover the walls, paintings, hangings and carvings hung. Doors led away in all directions. There was no stairway visible, so Tessia assumed access to the upper floor must be located elsewhere in the house.
In the middle of the room stood a couple, smiling at their visitors. This must be Lord Everran and Lady Avaria. They were younger than Tessia had expected, probably in their twenties. Lord Everran was a tall, thin man with typically black Kyralian hair, but his skin was darker than the norm – a pleasant golden hue. He was quite handsome in a sleek, groomed way, she decided.
Tessia had never seen a woman like Lady Avaria. Her hostess was attractive, but in a restrained way. She is what Mother meant when she tried to describe “elegance” to me, Tessia mused. But there was something in Avaria’s face – a glint of mischief in her eye, a quirk in her smile – suggesting something playful underneath the restraint. And this woman is a magician, she reminded herself.
Everran’s expression was openly pleased as he greeted Dakon, slapping his guest’s upper arms in what Tessia now concluded was some sort of greeting among important men. She noted that he did not favour Jayan with the same gesture. Lord Gilar hadn’t either, she recalled. Perhaps Jayan would not be considered important until he was a higher magician.
Lady Avaria did not follow suit. She smiled and touched Dakon lightly on the cheek.
“It is good to have you back, Dakon,” she said in a warm, low voice. She turned to Jayan. “Welcome back, Apprentice Jayan of Drayn.”
Both host and hostess had an alertness to their gaze, Tessia noted. As they turned to regard her she had the distinct feeling she was being examined with astute care. It is a good thing I’m not the sort to babble when I’m nervous, she thought as she answered their questions, and have nothing to hide. I have a feeling they’d never miss a slip of the tongue.
“A healer’s assistant?” Avaria said. “I have a friend who is in training to become a healer. I should arrange a meeting, over lunch or something.”
Tessia blinked in surprise. “I was only an assistant. They may find me, ah, rather wanting.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fascinating,” Avaria assured her. “And I’ve been looking forward to a new shopping companion.” She turned to Dakon. “Now, have you given your apprentices the usual allowance?”
Dakon chuckled. “Just as soon as we have all unpacked.”
“Prices have risen considerably since your last visit,” Avaria warned. “Since this is Tessia’s first visit she has more than the usual stocking up to do.”
Tessia felt her face warming. “I don’t—” she began then stopped as Jayan put out a hand to stall her.
“Oh, yes you do,” Jayan told her quietly, “if you’re going to survive Avaria’s company for more than five minutes.”
The lady looked back at him and narrowed her eyes. “I heard that.”
“She also has very sharp ears,” he warned Tessia.
“Five minutes.” Avaria clicked her tongue, her eyes flashing with amusement. “A whole five minutes. I shall have to do something to salvage my reputation.”
“Hanar!”
Suppressing a grimace, Hanara straightened and looked towards the voice. No self-respecting Kyralian man had a name ending in a, as their women did – or so the stable servants had told him – so they had shortened his.
The stable master, Ravern, was standing at the door. He beckoned, so Hanara put aside his shovel and walked over.
“Take this to Bregar, the store master,” Ravern said, handing Hanara a waxed tablet with writing scrawled over it. “Bring back what he gives you. And be quick, or you’ll interrupt his dinner.”
Hanara nodded his head as the other stable servants did to show respect to the man, and strode out into the late afternoon light. He tucked the tablet into his tunic, where it sat wax-side outward against his belt. Hurrying down the cartway to the gate, he paused to quickly scan the village.
No people about. It was not surprising. The air had a chill to it that promised a late snow.