“I will tell Cahil to assign some of his men,” Roze said. “He owes me.”
“Get them right away, Roze,” Bain said. “Not a moment to lose. Come now, Yelena, we have work to do.”
Bain led me out of the room and down the hallway.
“Nice observations, young lady. I see why Irys chose not to kill you.”
“Has Irys ever chosen to kill?” I asked. Cahil’s comment that I had not been the first person Irys had rescued from Ixia weighed on my mind.
“Unavoidable at times. Nasty choice overall, but Irys is well suited to that role. She has a unique ability to cease a heart without pain or fear. Roze has the skill, too, but she’s much too harsh. She works best with criminals and their ilk. Leif helps her with those unfortunate criminal investigations. During his schooling at the Keep, the Masters determined that would be the best use of his unusual power. Zitora, on the other hand, would die rather than harm another. I have never met a sweeter soul.”
Bain stopped to unlock a door. He gestured for me to precede him into his office. Entering the room, I was greeted by a riot of color, a jumble of contraptions and shelves upon shelves of books.
“And you, sir?” I asked. “What place do you hold in this group of magicians?”
“I teach. I guide. I listen.” He stacked books into a pile. “I answer questions. I let the younger magicians go on missions. I tell stories of my eventful past.” Bain smiled. “Whether or not my companions wish to hear them. Now, we’ll start you with these few books.”
He handed me the stack. I counted seven texts. Few? Obviously, my definition of few was different than his. At least most of the books were slim.
“Tomorrow is market day. An extra day for study.” Bain’s voice held a touch of reverence. To him it seemed an extra day to study was similar to receiving a pouch of gold. “Read the first three chapters in each book. We’ll discuss them the day after tomorrow. Come to my tower after breakfast.”
He bustled around a table, looking for something. He pulled a leather pouch from beneath an immense tome. “Yours from Irys.”
The pouch jingled as I opened it. Irys had exchanged my Ixian coins for Sitian.
“How do I find the market?” I asked.
Bain rummaged around his desk until he found a sheet of paper. It was a map of the Citadel.
“Use this.” Bain pointed to the market square located near the center of the Citadel.
“May I keep this?”
“Yours. Now, go. Read.” With the indulgence of a father sending his child off to play, he shooed me out the door.
I read the book titles as I made my way back to my rooms. The Source of Magic; Magical Mutations;The History of Sitian Magic; Master Level Magicians Throughout the Ages; Misuses of the Power Source; The Magician’s Ethical Code, and Windri Bak Greentree: A Biography.
I had to admit the titles seemed fascinating, so I started my reading assignments as soon as I reached my rooms. The afternoon flew by, and only the incessant growling of my stomach made me stop to find some food.
After dinner, I visited the stables. Topaz and Kiki’s heads appeared over their stall doors the moment I arrived.
Apples? Both horses looked hopeful.
Have I ever come without? I asked.
No. Lavender Lady nice, Topaz said.
I fed Topaz and Kiki their apples. After wiping apple juice and horse slobber from my hands, I realized Cahil was late. Deciding not to wait for him, I took Kiki’s bridle and riding saddle from the tack room.
Practice? Kiki sounded as bored as I by the repetitive lessons.
How about a walk? I asked.
Fast?
No. Slow and steady so I don’t fall off.
I bridled and saddled Kiki without incident, surprising myself with how much I had learned.
Before I could mount, Cahil arrived, his face red, and his beard matted with sweat. He looked as though he had run to the stables. I wondered how far he had run, which led me to wonder where he lived in the Keep, which led me, ultimately, to wonder about his childhood. What had it been like to grow up in the Magician’s Keep without any family?
Cahil, oblivious to my curiosity, inspected every inch of Kiki’s tack. Probably searching for a mistake. I smiled in satisfaction when all he found was a crooked stirrup.
“All right then, since she’s saddled, why don’t you try mounting?” Cahil said, reminding me to always mount on the horse’s left side.
I placed my left foot in the stirrup and grabbed the saddle. When he moved to give me a boost up, I stopped him with a look. Kiki stood at sixteen hands, tall for a horse, but I wanted to mount her without help. Pushing off with my right foot, I launched myself up and swung my leg over the saddle.
Once settled, I looked down at Cahil from what now felt like an uncomfortable height. From this vantage point, the ground at his feet seemed to transform from plush grass to hard and unyielding earth.
Cahil lectured about the reins and the proper way to hold them, and how to sit in the saddle. “If you think you’re going to fall, grab her mane. Not the saddle.”
“Why not?”
“You could pinch a finger. Don’t worry. You won’t hurt the horse.”
Cahil continued to lecture about the correct way to steer the horse and the best way to give stop and go commands. He also repeated his advice to grab Kiki’s mane if I felt myself falling at least a half dozen more times. Eventually, I tuned him out, gazing around the pasture from my new perspective. I admired the way the sun reflected off a stallion’s coat near the far fence, until a change in Cahil’s tone caused Kiki’s ears to c**k forward.