Arram Draper was a very powerful sorcerer, but he was also young and foolish, and he couldn't find his favorite razor as he packed hurriedly, praying that he could catch the last ferry out of Carthak before Emperor Ozorne discovered his hiding place. Beads of sweat trickled from his dark brow, which was furrowed in anxiety as he fumbled in various hidden compartments in the walls and floor of his small room. Finally locating the razor wedged between a crystal ball and a book about wild mushrooms, he put it in his cloak pocket and shrugged on his pack. Running his eyes swiftly around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything important, Arram turned to flee and found the door blocked by a shapely, blonde young woman with sad eyes and a pretty face colored with makeup.
"Varice," he said with some amount of contempt. "Come to see if I get caught and butchered? You're probably hoping that Ozorne will get me, so you can serve goodies at my funeral!"
Varice Kingsford's unnaturally red lips quivered. "You know I'd die if he caught you. Oh, Arram, you know I don't want you to go! Why can't you just explain everything to him? I----"
"Spare me," Arram cut in swiftly. The pain in his voice made him sound almost pleading. "Varice, please! You know what he would do to me! Ozorne, the mightiest tyrant in the Southern Lands, forgive a hapless sorcerer like me? Never! He'd cut me up and feed me to his hyenas!"
Tears leaked from Varice's kohl-lined eyes and her lips trembled even more. "Emperor Ozorne is a very great man."
"Great? Oh, I never said he wasn't great. He's just evil and twisted, too. I can't believe I'm wasting my time with you, Varice! You're in his service, you're as bad as he is!"
"Oh, Arry!" she wailed, her voice breaking. She fell to her knees and grabbed the hem of his robe, sobbing her heart out. "I have no choice! You know that! I must do His Most Serene Majesty's bidding!"
"Which includes being his lover when you've already got a fellow," Arram growled harshly. Then, because he could not bear to see her anymore, he turned from her and wrenched his robe from her clawing hands. "You've made me late. I must leave now—unless you had other plans?" Suddenly he went numb. He turned back to Varice, whose eyes were wide and frightened.
"No, Arram, no—" she breathed swiftly.
"He sent you here to detain me!" the sorcerer roared. "You—you—" he sank onto his bed, resting his black-haired head on his big hands. Pain ripped his heart in two. It was all too much for him—the woman he loved had acted as the Emperor's whore, and now she was betraying Numair to his greatest enemy: Emperor Ozorne, Ruler of Carthak, once Arram's best friend.
Varice crept forward, rising so that she could sit with Arram on the bed. She glanced around his small, bare room, and shuddered slightly. She loved Arram, but she could never be happy where there was no luxury. The Emperor could give her luxury and safety. Arram could not, no matter how much he loved her, and they both knew it.
"I'm sorry, Arram," she whispered, burying her lovely golden head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Arry—"
"Don't call me that," he whispered harshly. He shoved her away from him, leapt to his feet, and began pacing. "Don't you dare call me that, Reecie—I mean—Varice."
"Oh, Arram, you still love me, admit it! Just surrender, apologize to the emperor, maybe he'll accept and leave you alone at last! Oh, darling, please, I love—"
"You love comfort," he cut in swiftly. He met her eyes at last, staring her down, his power gathering around him in a sparkling black cloud. "You love luxury. You love royalty. You love cooking for wealthy people. You love all the things I can never give you. Don't you dare say that you love me too."
"Arram," she whispered. His cloud of power increased. Was he going to kill her? "Please—"
Suddenly he swore and took her in his arms, kissing her passionately. She gasped against him in surprise, then kissed him back. Both were trembling by the time they let go of each other. Arram faced his ex-girlfriend, breathing hard.
"Yes, Varice," he whispered, "I still love you. And I know you had no choice but to betray me. I'm sorry if I was harsh; please know I bear you no ill will. And now I must leave you forever." He kissed her firmly one last time, then took two steps backwards. "Don't forget me. Don't wait for me." She shook her head; he didn't bother asking whether she was agreeing or dissenting. He gazed at her for an instant, memorizing her face, knowing it would be futile to beg her to come with him. Even if she wanted to, she could never leave the Emperor.
Shouting a word in Old Thak, he pointed up at the ceiling. His Gift crashed through the cheap wood, and Arram leapt through the hole and spiraled into the sky as a black hawk. His pack fell to the ground in his wake, along with his robe, and Varice kickedboth under the bed. She knew Ozorne would probably be here in seconds, and that he would be too angry at finding Arram gone to bother searching the room. Varice meant to hide anything that was valuable or dangerous, along with the things that could enable Ozorne to track Arram.
"This is all I can do for you, Arram," she whispered as she set to work, determined to clean up the room before Ozorne's soldiers arrived.
Meanwhile, Arram in his hawk form was wheeling above Carthak City, watching Ozorne's soldiers break into the cheap tavern where he had been lodged. He could see Ozorne with them, his emerald Gift sheilding the company from any attack Arram might have been planning. Farewell, Varice, he thought, human tears leaking from his golden eyes.Then he turned, flipped his tail, and sped towards Tortall, the most free of the Eastern Lands, the one place where he might be accepted.
My life here is finished, he thought bitterly as he flew. I will be Arram Draper no more. He wracked his brain for a name that sounded mysterious, yet suited him. Finally he came up with Numair Salmalin, Numair being his sister's husband's cousin's great-grandfather's name, and Salmalin coming from his own imagination, which was vast indeed.Once, he hadimagined that he and Varice might manage to live a happy life together, but alas, that was his wildest dream yet.
And thus Arram Draper, twenty-two year-old black robe mage, became Numair Salmalin and left Carthak with a price on his head that would feed a small country for ten years. He set off towards his new future with not a scrap of value to his name, not even a set of clothing. And as he began to cross the Emerald Sea, his unbreakable spirit rose in his veins and he felt moderatelyat easefor the first time in weeks. Time for my greatest adventure yet.