compelled him to test his wine, but he found no magic within. He took a cautious sip. “I suppose you want to talk about the ice dragon? But I told the assembly everything this morning.”
“Of course. But you spoke only of the bind you found yourself in, how your mentor and fellow apprentice helped you find your way. But perhaps you would satisfy your own curiosity first?”
Mik felt uncomfortable under her gaze, not understanding why. “The tapestry,” he said, sounding hoarse. “What does it depict?”
Her smile unsettled him a little more. “The Sounding of the Horn,” she purred. “The true moment that ended the Age of Heroes and began our own age. They all winded the Horn that morning, but the tapestry shows the turn of Captain Miran.”
“Miran? But…”
“Indeed, Hen traces his ancestry back to Captain Miran. A thing to be proud of, certainly. But you… who knows who your forebears might be? Perhaps Captain Chelinn? Oops.” A drop of wine trickled down the narrow divide between her breasts; she wiped it up with a finger and licked it, still watching Mik. “Protector Ethtar was also a Westerner. Perhaps you’re of his line. Who knows?” She shrugged, and her robe spread a little wider. “In years to come, perhaps sorcerers will claim to be descended from Mik Dragonrider. A fine thought, no?”
Mik squirmed and tried to look away. “What… what is that pelt?” He pointed to the hanging above her.
“Oh. It’s from a beast called the mountain lion.” Aleya smiled and sipped her wine. “A gift from the Northern Reach. But I did not invite you here to discuss trifles. Do you know how fortunate you are?”
Mik nodded. He was unsure whether she meant his surviving his encounter with an ice dragon, or becoming an apprentice sorcerer, but one had led to the other.
“There are, of the hundred sorcerers at the Gathering this year, only three with more than one apprentice. And there are many with no apprentice at all.” She leaned forward, placing her wineglass on the table. Mik gasped at what was illuminated in that moment. “Your fellow apprentice is also fortunate. What was her name?”
“S-Sura.” In his mind, Mik cried out Sura!
“Such a lovely name for a lovely girl. And is she a sister to you… or something more?” Seeing Mik’s blush, she laughed. “I see the answer.” She reached for her wineglass, again exposing herself. “Perhaps I can teach you something of value after all.”
“I… I wouldn’t leave my mentor. I owe him too much.”
“Oh, I would not ask you to do that .” She stood and smiled. “Come with me. I can teach you how to please a woman. How to make your Sura eager for your touch.” She offered him her hand.
Mik pressed himself into his seat, hand half-raised, mind racing in all directions—including some that shamed him. What do I do? he thought frantically. Then his aunt’s voice came to him: Against an ice dragon ya stood, and rogue mages ya fought. Let this temptress have her way, will ya? Mik shook his head, half ready to dash for the hallway, half ready to follow Aleya to her bed, when there came a knock.
“What?” Aleya frowned and pulled her robe tight. She opened the door to find a scowling Bailar. He glanced at Mik; the apprentice heard his voice clearly: Play along .
“Peace and harmony, Bailar the Blue,” said Aleya. “Is something amiss?”
“All peace unto you, Aleya the Red.” Bailar turned his scowl to Mik. “Mik, did you take that book on herblore to Sura as I instructed you?”
“What? No, sir.”
“Then wait for me in my chambers.” He nodded up the hallway.
“Yes, sir.” Mik was confused, but left as quickly as good manners allowed. He slipped into Bailar’s chambers. To his surprise, Sura stood waiting for him. Charn and Isa crowded one of the settees. “What—what?” he stammered.
“I got His Imperial Highness to tell me what his mentor had in mind,” said Charn. “I got Isa, she got Sura, and we all
“Of course. But you spoke only of the bind you found yourself in, how your mentor and fellow apprentice helped you find your way. But perhaps you would satisfy your own curiosity first?”
Mik felt uncomfortable under her gaze, not understanding why. “The tapestry,” he said, sounding hoarse. “What does it depict?”
Her smile unsettled him a little more. “The Sounding of the Horn,” she purred. “The true moment that ended the Age of Heroes and began our own age. They all winded the Horn that morning, but the tapestry shows the turn of Captain Miran.”
“Miran? But…”
“Indeed, Hen traces his ancestry back to Captain Miran. A thing to be proud of, certainly. But you… who knows who your forebears might be? Perhaps Captain Chelinn? Oops.” A drop of wine trickled down the narrow divide between her breasts; she wiped it up with a finger and licked it, still watching Mik. “Protector Ethtar was also a Westerner. Perhaps you’re of his line. Who knows?” She shrugged, and her robe spread a little wider. “In years to come, perhaps sorcerers will claim to be descended from Mik Dragonrider. A fine thought, no?”
Mik squirmed and tried to look away. “What… what is that pelt?” He pointed to the hanging above her.
“Oh. It’s from a beast called the mountain lion.” Aleya smiled and sipped her wine. “A gift from the Northern Reach. But I did not invite you here to discuss trifles. Do you know how fortunate you are?”
Mik nodded. He was unsure whether she meant his surviving his encounter with an ice dragon, or becoming an apprentice sorcerer, but one had led to the other.
“There are, of the hundred sorcerers at the Gathering this year, only three with more than one apprentice. And there are many with no apprentice at all.” She leaned forward, placing her wineglass on the table. Mik gasped at what was illuminated in that moment. “Your fellow apprentice is also fortunate. What was her name?”
“S-Sura.” In his mind, Mik cried out Sura!
“Such a lovely name for a lovely girl. And is she a sister to you… or something more?” Seeing Mik’s blush, she laughed. “I see the answer.” She reached for her wineglass, again exposing herself. “Perhaps I can teach you something of value after all.”
“I… I wouldn’t leave my mentor. I owe him too much.”
“Oh, I would not ask you to do that .” She stood and smiled. “Come with me. I can teach you how to please a woman. How to make your Sura eager for your touch.” She offered him her hand.
Mik pressed himself into his seat, hand half-raised, mind racing in all directions—including some that shamed him. What do I do? he thought frantically. Then his aunt’s voice came to him: Against an ice dragon ya stood, and rogue mages ya fought. Let this temptress have her way, will ya? Mik shook his head, half ready to dash for the hallway, half ready to follow Aleya to her bed, when there came a knock.
“What?” Aleya frowned and pulled her robe tight. She opened the door to find a scowling Bailar. He glanced at Mik; the apprentice heard his voice clearly: Play along .
“Peace and harmony, Bailar the Blue,” said Aleya. “Is something amiss?”
“All peace unto you, Aleya the Red.” Bailar turned his scowl to Mik. “Mik, did you take that book on herblore to Sura as I instructed you?”
“What? No, sir.”
“Then wait for me in my chambers.” He nodded up the hallway.
“Yes, sir.” Mik was confused, but left as quickly as good manners allowed. He slipped into Bailar’s chambers. To his surprise, Sura stood waiting for him. Charn and Isa crowded one of the settees. “What—what?” he stammered.
“I got His Imperial Highness to tell me what his mentor had in mind,” said Charn. “I got Isa, she got Sura, and we all
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