Sianim 01 - Masques

sir.” Myr’s voice held a matching amount of sympathy, as false as the ae’Magi’s. He should have just thanked him and left, gotten out of his sight and hoped the ae’Magi forgot all about Reth and its young king.
    “No,” the ae’Magi agreed, “I think that it would have been better for all of us if he were a coward. He would have done less harm.”
    The ae’Magi kept his dark magics secret, but his son had performed them in the broad light of day.
    Aralorn had never met Cain: He’d disappeared before she’d become involved in her present occupation. She’d heard the rumors, though—they got worse with each telling. But Myr would have known him; the ae’Magi and his son had been frequent visitors to his grandfather’s court.
    The stories put the ae’Magi in the role of a grieving father, forced to strip his son of magic and exile him. Aralorn suspected that the boy had died rather than been exiled. It would have been inconvenient if someone had questioned where the ae’Magi’s son had learned so much about forbidden magic. As he’d told her himself, the ae’Magi preferred to avoid controversy.
    “Be that as it may”—with apparent effort the ae’Magi dismissed the thought of his son—“your servants will probably be awaiting you even now.”
    “Yes, I should go. You may be sure I shall remember your gracious offer of assistance if ever I need help.” With that, Myr bowed once more and left.
    Watching Myr’s broad back as he strode through the room, the ae’Magi smiled—the slight imperfection of one crooked eyetooth lending charm to the more perfect curve of his lips. “What a clever, clever child you have grown to be, Myr.” His voice purred with approval. “More like your grandfather every day.”
    It was late before the crowd began to thin and later still before everyone had gone. Aralorn couldn’t control her apprehension as each person left, knowing that the meager protection their presence offered would soon be gone. After seeing the last couple out, the ae’Magi walked slowly over to the cage.
    “So,” he said, swaying gently back on his heels, “the Rethian doesn’t see my lovely Northland bird.”
    “My lord?” she said neutrally. Having had most of the night to reflect upon the incident, she’d been pretty sure that the ae’Magi had figured that much out. She’d also had time to come to the conclusion that if he thought Myr was immune to magic, the ae’Magi’s primary power, Myr would die.
    The Archmage smiled and flicked a silver bar of her cage with his forefinger chidingly. “When he looked at you, he looked where your eyes are, not where the eyes of the falcon would have been.”
    Plague it, Aralorn thought. The ae’Magi put one hand through the bars and caressed her neck. She leaned against him and rubbed her cheek on his hand, forcing herself to obey the vague compulsion of the charismatic spell that had kept his guests happy instead of throwing herself backward and huddling in the far corner of the cage.
    The ae’Magi tilted her face so that her eyes met his, and said in a leading tone, “I wonder how he broke through my illusion.”
    He couldn’t expect a slave to understand what had happened, he was talking to himself. But he’d given her an opening—this was going to hurt.
    “But he didn’t break through your spell, Master,” she answered in bewildered tones.
    He looked down at her expressionlessly, and she quit fighting the urge to curl into a ball on the floor of the cage. He made a small motion with a finger, and she screamed as her body twisted helplessly under the fire of his magic.
    Each time he did this to her was worse than the time before. Aralorn watched as the tendons pulled and stretched, protesting the sensations they endured. When it finally stopped, she didn’t fight the tremors that shook her, telling herself that she was playing her part—but wondering deep inside whether she could have stopped had she tried.
    After she lay still, the ae’Magi said softly, “I don’t like to be contradicted, child. He knew you were not a falcon.”
    It was over. Over. He probably wouldn’t do that again tonight. Or if he did, he’d at least give her some time to recover. She could tell herself that anyway.
    “Yes, my lord,” she said hoarsely, from her position on the floor of the cage. “Of course he knew, I didn’t mean to contradict you—how could I? I misunderstood what you meant. You knew his magician broke the spell for