​​​​16 Inheritance

WITHER TOOK A SIP of water. The ache in his throat remained, but it was easier to swallow. The sound of marching filtered through the window from the dusty streets. Shamaran buildings had no glass, except for the zorast temple. From his present location, he had glimpsed it in the distance. A massive white building with a golden dome. In the brightness of the sun, it was impossible to look at and not go blind.

His rescuer stood by the window with her back to him. She was staring down at the Havari outside. Striga had vanished for five days after rescuing him, returning an hour ago. She’d left an elderly, toothless woman to care for him, or maybe to ensure he didn’t escape. Until the previous day, he’d not had the strength to try. The old woman had proven more agile and dangerous than he’d imagined. She had several knives secreted about her person. He now had a few bandaged wounds for his trouble.

He watched Striga, wondering at the tall woman, who was too broad of shoulder. He noticed a feline touch in the way she held herself, the way she stalked instead of walked. Her eyes never blinked. Her hair was long and silver-white, braided to the waist, her skin pale. Not a local, or of any people he’d heard of. An odd feeling, but he thought he knew her.

‘How many now?’ he asked, taking another gulp of water. He’d begun to eat, mostly melon and other fruits, a little cheese. He could not get enough water.

‘A dozen dead,’ answered Striga, ‘and another fifty imprisoned. They will execute those publicly. It’s the Havari way, after all. Keeps the slaves in line. Is this not, correct?’

She asks because she knows I am Tharoni. What she had said of his family, well, she should not have known such things. Had his father sent her? For what purpose? He had disowned his son the day he’d sold him. ‘Dead, dying, and all because of me.’

She turned and gave him an unreadable look. Her eyes were a strong gold, penetrating and old. There were deeper secrets to this woman, dangerous ones. ‘You did what you needed to,’ she said. ‘Your countrymen are a cruel people at the best of times.’

‘I still ended up near death on the street.’ He paused wondering at something, which had bothered him for days. ‘They’ve searched every house, but they haven’t tried to enter this building, not once. What stops them from discovering me?’

‘Me,’ said Striga in a casual tone, turning back to stare out the window.

‘You were gone for days, and they did not enter.’ He began to wonder if she had freed him at all. Was he now her slave? He wasn’t complaining about his change in fortunes, but he did wonder.

‘You know of the viral mage.’

Wither paused, a fig halfway to his lips. It had not been a question. She appeared to know too much. ‘What of him?’

She returned to the table, and loomed over him. She placed a hand on the granite, next to him. Wither stared at it. The tendons were tight against the skin, black veins visible. No, not a native.

‘You gave me my life back, and I am grateful,’ he said, followed by a swallow, ‘but you do not control me. I will do what I can to repay you, but you do not own me. Otherwise, you might as well hand me back to the slavers, or to the mob out there.’

She removed her hand and took a step back, surprise in her face. ‘Your strength of will has recovered quicker than your flesh. I have no wish to control you. Use you, yes, this is true, but not control. I apologise if I gave you another impression. I am unused to dealing with ... well, my apologies.’

Wither grunted at her stumble over the obvious. Did she think he didn’t have a brain? He’d already figured out she wasn’t ordinary. ‘There are different forms of slavery. I am not certain I wish to be used.’

‘I find it shocking you are ignorant of your inheritance.’ She frowned at him for several moments. He didn’t take the bait. She was speaking of his blood relatives, and he wanted nothing to do with them. For the first time since they’d met, she sat opposite him on a stone bench. She always appeared comfortable standing. ‘You are no ordinary man, Wither,’ she said, echoing his thoughts about her. ‘Within your blood is an inheritance transcending centuries. Your family name is linked to an ancient power.’

‘I know nothing of it.’

‘I meant it when I said I would use you, but it doesn’t mean I will harm you. You will become powerful, a force to sweep aside all in your way. Is this not something you yearn for?’

‘Do you take me for a fool?’ Wither picked out the stone from a date and swallowed the fruit whole, grabbed another. He had the feeling she was trying to mislead him. It made him angry. ‘You’ve been vague on several issues. I want to repay your kindness, but I don’t see how I can.’ Despite the woman’s aid, he didn’t trust her. Her help had come with a price, and negotiations on the price had begun. He hated negotiating from a weak position.

She gave a dry laugh. ‘Don’t be so coy. I know about your magical talent. I know everything about you.’

‘So, you keep saying.’ Wither tossed another stone, which rattled on the tin plate, and sighed. He’d heard the unspoken threat in those words. ‘Fact is I’m not sure I can. No, I’m not refusing. I’m telling you I don’t think I can.’

‘Being half-starved and dying of thirst doesn’t remove all ability from one such as you. You’ve trained in the magical art since you were a boy. Those Aidari fools at least did something in guiding your ability.’

The sounds of the city had grown mute, though traders still hollered their wares amid the bleating of goats, the snorts of grolg, and mournful lowing of cattle. The sounds became the cries of battle, as he recalled a fateful ambush. Both he and Pole had grabbed the viral, pulling him from danger. They’d fought a chimera who’d transformed into hundreds of creatures. He remembered stabbing them, using his magic to destroy dozens.

Lorn had been at his side grinning, a wildness to her. She had always smiled when in the thrust of danger. It was when her mind was at its most clear, she’d once told him. When her worries disappeared and all there was, was life and death. Simple, clean, true.

‘There is someone important to me,’ he said after a moment. ‘I would know she is safe.’ He guessed this Striga was a person of magical ability. It was one of the reasons he didn’t understand her interest in him. Clearly, she possessed greater power.

She offered him a knowing smile. ‘I think, something can be arranged.’

He nodded. ‘An incident occurred, a few months ago.’ At least, he thought it was a few months. He remembered waking to death all around. His leader, Scatter, had disappeared along with others. The rest had lain dead, abandoned. The Aidari had been his family for a time, though he’d never fitted in. ‘My abilities,’ he went on, ‘have been diminished. I can’t do what I used to. Whatever remains, is weak. It was enough to aid my escape, nothing else. I killed the slavers with my hands, and a stolen knife. Had I possessed my full power, I would have killed them all.’

Striga stared at him, maybe seeing the range of emotions flit across his face. Perhaps she saw nothing other than an ungrateful wretch who refused to cooperate. Looking into those golden eyes, he knew she was dangerous. She could kill him in a heartbeat, with no effort. Wither didn’t care. She could think or do whatever she wished.

She stood. ‘You leave Shamar after sunset in three days. Be ready. Pack whatever food and water is here. You will have camels for the journey.’

‘Where am I going?’

‘To find someone who can fix your problem.’ She strode to the door, which was nothing other than a hole with a wide blanket. A stone switchback staircase led down into the street. ‘As luck would have it, he is exactly the person I wanted you to meet.’

After she was gone, the former Aidari picked up another date, removed the stone, and chewed.