Chapter 58

Afterword

I sat at an opulent table, looking at my dinner companion. The table surface was some dark wood, nearly black, and polished to a glass-like sheen. I stroked the surface idly, searching for any kind of crack or seam. The enormous piece of furniture seemed to be all of a piece. It was either shaped by a sorcerer, or carved from the flesh of a great awakened tree. Possibly both.

I returned my attention back to the man in front of me as he cleared his throat pointedly. The mannerism may have made him seem easily bored or irritated, but his small smile belied that. He looked like a man more accustomed to smiling than frowning, though worry wrinkles did sit at the corners of his eyes.

His skin was dark, a few shades darker than the standard brown tones of Ramana’s citizens. His hair was curly, and gathered back behind his head by a leather thong. It hung past his shoulders for certain, but I wasn’t about to get up and wander around his chair to check its length.

His robes had a simple cut, but the fabric was worth more than I would make for a year’s work as a healer. But it was his eyes that finally arrested my gaze. They had no neither white nor pupil, but shimmered with color like dark stones refracting the light. Like oil on the surface of dark water.

“King Ramana, to what do I owe this honor?”

“Cheeky.” He smiled, that same small smile. “You might be precisely what my daughter needs.”

“But King Ramana has no daughter by the name of Sati.” I couldn’t quite veil my judgmental tone. Not that it mattered much here. I couldn’t hide my emotions from the king of dreams.

His smile faded. “Don’t press your luck. Royal dictates don’t often leave room for sentiment. Nor do divine ones.”

There was real pain in his eyes, and I bowed my head in apology.

“What do you plan to do next, mithali?”

“These mandalas that bind us are runework. Engraved on the spirit, but runework nonetheless. I know little of it, so I must seek instruction.”

“Metic, then.”

I nodded. “Did you put Myta in my path? Push us together?”

“I did, I saw an opportunity to pull you from your lassitude, and set you against my enemies. At no cost to me.”

“Kubek as well then,” I murmured. But he shook his head.

“The forest-god’s intervention was unexpected. It worked out in my favor though. I suspect we just wanted similar things.

“I do not wish you to travel to Metic.” The god-king fixed me with an even stare. “War is coming soon, the druids might possibly have answers for you, but their land will be too soaked in blood for them to spend time sharing that knowledge. Take her somewhere safer, away from the war. Your homeland still has some secrets for you to pursue, surely?”

“After you killed our teachers, and tore down our libraries?” My laughter tasted like ashes. “You can’t shelter your children forever. That’s what got us into this mess. She was trying to impress you, you realize?”

His eyes narrowed at me, perhaps in anger, or perhaps in pain. He was so difficult to read.

“Let her go.” I spoke gently, trying my best not to sound condescending to the sorcerer, god, and king who had probably lived ten times as long as I. “You owe me a boon, do you not? Then let her go, or she’ll never have a chance to be free of either of us.”

He snarled, and the sound was more akin to that of a wolf than a man, but an instant later his ire seemed to pass.

“I see there is no dissuading you. Very well, but if you must go, you will do so with my full backing and authority. I have need of an agent to help stabilize the region, and you need leverage to get your answers.”

“As you say. But they’re unlikely to accept a sorcerer from the court of the god-king as an advisor. The druids are insular, the clans are violent, and both are far too proud.” I sighed as I leaned back, attempting to relax as the pressure on me lifted.

“A sorcerer as an advisor? No. But you will go as the head of a mercenary company, to support the northern clans against the raids from Ootrin. I already made them the offer, and they accepted. You’ll simply replace those I originally intended to send.”

“That could work,” I nodded. “The clans respect mercenaries, or at least they respect the idea of mercenaries. They sell their own services as such often enough.”

“Precisely. You will have pay and supplies for your men, provided by me. But you aid them at your discretion, so the clans will offer you more to address their individual concerns. Just help keep Metic out of the hands of the Pure. I know you’re well-motivated in that regard.”

I nodded again, thinking of the possibilities this would open up. The druds were very skilled in manipulating mana, in ways far different than the sorcerers of other nations. And the people of Metic took their bonds of debt and loyalty very seriously. I had an opportunity to earn far more than a little knowledge and money.

Myta and I, possibly even Sati, could find ourselves a home.