Tyrant’s Blood

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‘No.’

‘A Wikken is a seer of sorts, from the tribes. Apparently this one can “smell” magic. I have little experience with them—he’s only the second Wikken I’ve seen in my time. It was my impression they refuse to leave the Steppes.’

‘Well, he smelled you.’

‘Pointless, though, I have such little skill,’ Kirin lied.

‘Why’s his face like that?’

Kirin didn’t know the proper answer to that. He turned to the soldier riding nearby; now that the men knew Kirin wasn’t planning on being any trouble, they had given the newcomers a wide berth. Kirin had to beckon the man, whom he guessed was around his own age, to guide his horse closer. ‘Yes?’ the soldier asked, his expression quizzical.

Kirin drew make-believe lines against his cheek. ‘Can you tell us why he is scarred like that?’

The soldier smiled. ‘When anyone from the tribes shows genuine promise as a seer, he is cut each year from manhood. The wounds are packed with the ashes of our ancient dead, which we have kept for as long as our people have lived on the plains.’

‘Why?’ Kirin asked, intrigued in spite of his anxiety.

‘We believe that the Wikken will then carry the memories of our forefathers, so that he is enlightened by their knowledge and experiences.’

Kirin nodded, keeping his expression bland.

Lily was not so careful. ‘You mean those scars are filled with the remains of cremated people?’

The soldier grinned. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. The wounds heal and push the packing of the ashes outwards and that creates those magnificent scars,’ he said, awe in his voice. ‘They’re purple anyway but he stains them that deep violet.’

Kirin glanced Lily’s way and she seemed to grasp his unspoken warning. ‘How fascinating,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’

‘How many Wikken are in the Set?’ Kirin asked, his voice casual.

‘Shorgan is the only one now. There are only two living Wikken at present. The other is much older, far more powerful and remains on the plains.’

‘So Shorgan likes it here, does he?’ Kirin added, smiling, encouraging the man to spill as much information as possible.

‘I believe he does. Our emperor sets little store by the Wikken today. He is keen that we do not dwell too much on the old ways of mystery and magic.’

‘And yet he hunts down the Set’s Vested,’ Kirin commented.

The man shrugged. ‘For different reasons. He wants control of the magic but he doesn’t make a lot of use of it from what I’ve heard. It’s too bad; I think I take an interest in sorcery.’

‘How come?’

‘Because my grandfather is the other Wikken.’

‘I see. And you have no…?’ Kirin wasn’t sure how to phrase his question but the youngster understood.

He shook his head. ‘Nothing at all.’ He smiled. ‘I am all warrior,’ he declared, banging a fist to his chest.

Kirin was pleased to hear Lily give a soft laugh on cue. He was relieved she had grasped that they needed to be as little problem as possible to these people.

‘Why do they need my wife and myself?’ Kirin asked, taking his chance and trying to make the words my wife sound natural even though they caught slightly in his throat.

The man shook his head, made a face to say he had no idea. ‘Just interested, I imagine. These Vested are being transferred. I am guessing that Shorgan sensed you, and that our captain is simply taking precautions. He’ll send a runner soon enough to enquire about you. It’s likely you’ll be escorted back to the city almost immediately.’

‘And where are these people headed?’

‘I haven’t been told. I just follow the leader.’

‘They’re safe, though?’

The man frowned, slightly bemused. ‘I wasn’t here for the overthrow—I was just three moons too young as Loethar only allowed men who were two decades and older to march—but I hear it was a bloody one. I accept that those memories do not easily fade.’ He gave a small bow that touched Kirin’s heart. ‘But our emperor does not want a massacre. We should not be feared as murderers.’

‘He did a pretty good job of it ten anni ago.’

The man nodded and sighed. ‘War is ugly. But now he wants everyone to be loyal to the empire and to get on.’

Kirin felt his own treachery quicken his pulse. This man riding next to him was either terribly naive or one of the most sincere people he was likely to meet. If only he knew that the companion he was talking so freely and openly with was part of a long-held plot to tear down the very empire he admired so much.

‘If he wants that he should not treat these innocents as prisoners.’

The warrior frowned. ‘Do they look like prisoners?’

Kirin looked over at the eight or so people he counted chatting amiably in the carts. One was telling a tall tale, it appeared, and even the soldiers riding alongside were joining in the laughter.

‘No, but they’re not free, are they?’

The man shrugged. ‘What is freedom? Are you free?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, do you answer to someone?’

‘We all answer to someone.’

‘Then none of us is free.’

Kirin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Let me say it another way. I didn’t want to join this caravan but against my will I am being forced. To me that is not the choice of someone with freedom. These people would presumably not choose to be moved.’

‘On the contrary,’ his companion said, ‘they all volunteered to move into another compass.’

Kirin blinked, surprised. ‘Why?’

‘I guess the emperor wants to put their skills to good use in another part of the Set.’

Kirin didn’t think Loethar would relinquish control of anyone possessing magic but he let it pass. Whether or not these Vested had volunteered did not solve the dilemma of him and Lily being absorbed into this group, or him being dragged further from Clovis’s trail.

‘We do keep a record of the Vested, of course,’ the soldier added.

‘Oh?’

‘It’s a new method but very effective, transportable, and knowledgeable.’

‘Knowledgeable?’ Kirin queried. ‘How can a list be discerning?’ He watched the man’s brow crease in puzzlement at this word. ‘Er, how can a list think?’

‘Ah, I see. It doesn’t have to. It’s not a list.’