The next few days I spent killing rats and trying to sleep when cargo kept banging into me. I wasn't the most pleasant experience, but I was just thankful to be alive. It was a relief when we reached the shore.
The city the boat docked at was a small shipping town called Amir. A stranger would be recognized immediately in such a tiny place and I couldn't afford to be noticed. Ozorne was likely to pursue me so I would have to be very careful. If I left Amir and traveled around Tortall I might be able to elude Ozorne. I would have to change my name.
I'd always hated Arram Draper and the prospect of choosing a name made me cheer up slightly. As I began walking along the Great Road South I considered names. For about an hour I thought; it was the only thing I could do. The road was boring and very few people passed me.
When I was a child, my mother told me stories of Numair the wise. He was an ancient king of Siraj, long before it became apart of the Carthaki Empire. Numair had been a hero for me and I decided to take his name. Salmalin, a favorite food of mine, I changed slightly and used as a last name.
For the next six moons I traveled along the Great Road South, moving from village to village, never staying in the same place for more than a week. I missed my old life desperately. I especially missed Varice and my old friend Lindhall. I survived as a street magician and a juggler. I used very little real magic, mostly just the slight of hand. Saving every coin I earned, I was able to afford a horse. It was very old, battered, and weak, but I needed it since I began riding through the desert.
I'd heard tales of the fierce Bazhir tribes, but hoped I wouldn't encounter any on the Great Road. The usually stayed near their camps. In the past few years Carthak had received word of political unrest in Tortall. The late King Roald was betrayed by his nephew Duke Roger and the plot was discovered about six years ago. Two years ago, a powerful sorcerer brought Roger back from the dead and he tried to kill the new king, Jonathan. I had a rather low opinion of a mage who brought a treasonous sociopath back to life.
Rumor had it that King Jonathan was also very important to the Bazhir, but the reason remained unknown. I sincerely hoped this didn't mean the Bazhir would be leaving their tribes and traveling to the capital more often. Luck didn't seem to be with me. Two Bazhir in white flowing robes were riding towards me. When they noticed me, they slowed to a halt.
"You know," One began. "It's usually not a good idea to ride through the Great Southern Desert alone, unarmed, and with a sorry horse like that one. The hillmen don't take prisoners and will rob anyone they see."
Getting a closer look at them, I was very confused. The one who had spoken was a very unusual Bazhir. From what I had read, Bazhir were dark skinned with black hair. Women were kept in camp and rarely spoke out of turn. Either the books in Carthak were very wrong, or this was not a Bazhir.
She was a woman with shoulder length red hair and beautiful purple eyes. Her companion could pass for a Bazhir, but obviously wasn't. His face was tan, but not dark and his hair was a dark brown. Hazel eyes looked sharply at him.
He spoke, "Are you going t' sit and gawk at us or d'you want to say anything." He asked with a city accent.
"Uh… forgive me, I am Numair Salmalin. I was startled by your appearance, you are wearing the clothes of the Bazhir, but I do not think you are."
"Well Numair, you be correct. At least about me. Alanna, here really is a Bazhir."
I turned in shock to the woman. "Not Alanna the Lioness, is it?"
She smiled, "The same. A Bazhir tribe, the Bloody Hawks, adopted me. Where are you headed, Numair?"
I shrugged, "It doesn't matter. I suppose I'll get to Corus eventually, but there's no hurry."
"What is it you do, Numair?" Alanna asked.
Warily, I replied. "I'm a street magician, nothing special."
"An educated street magician." The man observed. They exchanged glances.
"You look hungry," Alanna observed, it was the truth. "George and I were just going for a morning ride, we would be honored if you would join us in the Bloody Hawk camp."
It didn't seem like a good idea, but the promise of a good meal was too tempting an offer. I agreed.
"You have the look of a starved prisoner who has just seen cooked food for the first time in years." Alanna commented with raised eyebrows. A veiled woman served us hot stew and unleavened bread. My mouth was watering and I took a bite before replying.
"Thank the gods that isn't true," I replied, then immediately wished I'd kept my mouth shut. Alanna may be a legend, but that didn't mean I could trust her.
"Were you nearly a starved prisoner, then?" George asked.
"Uh… no, just counting my blessings, that's all."
Alanna and George exchanged another glance. I took the opportunity to get a better look at the Bloody Hawk tribe. The tents were larger than I expected and the food far better. Then again, I hadn't eaten a decent meal in months so any food seemed like a feast. As soon as we reached the camp, Alanna spoke to a veiled woman and we were served. For reasons I didn't know, we ate farther away from the other tribesmen. I suppose Alanna wanted to get information out of me. But I wanted information from her.
"Is it true the Bazhir, Doi, and K'mir share a common ancestry?"
Alanna looked sharply at me, "That's what King Jonathan belives."
I was fascinated. "Do the Bazhir share any of the prophetic gifts of the Doi?"
"No, the Bazhir have their own magic, it ties them together and unifies them."
"Oh! Like the Banjiku who are unified by their skill with animals. Their relationship with animals is truly amazing. It's because they possess special magic so animals can understand them."
"Normal animals? That's-" Alanna was cut off by George.
"The Banjiku are Carthaki slaves, Master Numair." George looked suspiciously at me. "Few'd know of their magical powers. Most don't even believe they can talk to animals. Are you, by chance, acquainted with a man named Arram Draper? He has devoted years t' studying the Banjiku form of magic, called Wild Magic."
Had I been discovered? Was George testing me? I decided to act ignorant. "Arram Draper? The name sounds familiar, but I don't think I've met him. Who is he?"
"A powerful sorcerer from Carthak, he is, who was recently accused of treason by the emperor. He escaped, though, and is now a fugitive. Perhaps you can keep an eye out fer `im. He's tall, probably about your height, with dark hair, almost as dark as yours. In fact, he looks almost exactly like you. Could that be because he is you?"
"George are you suggesting that this underfed street magician could be a powerful Carthaki traitor?" Alanna asked. I didn't say anything.
"Not suggesting, love, I know it t' be true. Am I right, Numair?"
I met George's eyes. "What are you planning to do with me? Give me back to Ozorne? He was just waiting for me to slip up, waiting to find an excuse to ruin me. I'm no traitor to Carthak, just a traitor to the cruel man that rules it. Would you condemn a man to death or worse for saving the lives of some innocent slaves?"
"Calm down, Numair or Arram, whatever your name is." Alanna said in an exasperated voice. "You don't have to make a speech. No one is turning you back to Ozorne." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Must you both be so melodramatic? George, our trip to Port Legonn has been postponed. We must take Arram to Jon and explain the situation."
"Take me to see the king?" I sprang up. "Then Ozorne will know where I am."
"Nonsense," George pulled me back down. "Jon knows what he's doing-"
"Most of the time." Alanna muttered.
"You're Numair Salmalin, a sorcerer educated in the City of the Gods."
"I have influence enough to make sure the priests in the City agree."
It was finally beginning to sink in. I would no longer have to hide. I would have a bed, food, and most importantly I had two of the king's closest friends to speak for me. In Tortall I could become the great sorcerer Ozorne wouldn't allow me to be. Life was looking better.
"Jonathan, may I present Numair Salmalin?" Alanna introduced me to King Jonathan. I bowed politely, but couldn't help staring. The king looked so… normal. He wore plain, brown breeches and a blue shirt. His hair was disheveled and his beard needed trimming. Unlike Ozorne, the only jewelry he wore was a simple wedding band. Yet there was an air of kingliness around him that far surpassed that of Ozorne.
"Ah, Numair, Alanna has told me about your… shall we say, situation." He indicated a seat and I took it. "You are welcome here, indeed we could use a powerful sorcerer such as yourself."
"Thank you, but I'm not very powerful. In Carthak, most of the magic we learn is frivolous and useless."
But the king didn't believe me. Instead, he asked me to instruct the Queen's riders in the magic of Carthak. Once I got over the shock of Queen Thayet, I fit right in. The Riders were from all different walks of life and they gladly welcomed me into their midst. Though I wasn't sure they would want a man of twenty to teach them, I was wrong. Soon I was going on missions with them and traveling all over Tortall.
The city the boat docked at was a small shipping town called Amir. A stranger would be recognized immediately in such a tiny place and I couldn't afford to be noticed. Ozorne was likely to pursue me so I would have to be very careful. If I left Amir and traveled around Tortall I might be able to elude Ozorne. I would have to change my name.
I'd always hated Arram Draper and the prospect of choosing a name made me cheer up slightly. As I began walking along the Great Road South I considered names. For about an hour I thought; it was the only thing I could do. The road was boring and very few people passed me.
When I was a child, my mother told me stories of Numair the wise. He was an ancient king of Siraj, long before it became apart of the Carthaki Empire. Numair had been a hero for me and I decided to take his name. Salmalin, a favorite food of mine, I changed slightly and used as a last name.
For the next six moons I traveled along the Great Road South, moving from village to village, never staying in the same place for more than a week. I missed my old life desperately. I especially missed Varice and my old friend Lindhall. I survived as a street magician and a juggler. I used very little real magic, mostly just the slight of hand. Saving every coin I earned, I was able to afford a horse. It was very old, battered, and weak, but I needed it since I began riding through the desert.
I'd heard tales of the fierce Bazhir tribes, but hoped I wouldn't encounter any on the Great Road. The usually stayed near their camps. In the past few years Carthak had received word of political unrest in Tortall. The late King Roald was betrayed by his nephew Duke Roger and the plot was discovered about six years ago. Two years ago, a powerful sorcerer brought Roger back from the dead and he tried to kill the new king, Jonathan. I had a rather low opinion of a mage who brought a treasonous sociopath back to life.
Rumor had it that King Jonathan was also very important to the Bazhir, but the reason remained unknown. I sincerely hoped this didn't mean the Bazhir would be leaving their tribes and traveling to the capital more often. Luck didn't seem to be with me. Two Bazhir in white flowing robes were riding towards me. When they noticed me, they slowed to a halt.
"You know," One began. "It's usually not a good idea to ride through the Great Southern Desert alone, unarmed, and with a sorry horse like that one. The hillmen don't take prisoners and will rob anyone they see."
Getting a closer look at them, I was very confused. The one who had spoken was a very unusual Bazhir. From what I had read, Bazhir were dark skinned with black hair. Women were kept in camp and rarely spoke out of turn. Either the books in Carthak were very wrong, or this was not a Bazhir.
She was a woman with shoulder length red hair and beautiful purple eyes. Her companion could pass for a Bazhir, but obviously wasn't. His face was tan, but not dark and his hair was a dark brown. Hazel eyes looked sharply at him.
He spoke, "Are you going t' sit and gawk at us or d'you want to say anything." He asked with a city accent.
"Uh… forgive me, I am Numair Salmalin. I was startled by your appearance, you are wearing the clothes of the Bazhir, but I do not think you are."
"Well Numair, you be correct. At least about me. Alanna, here really is a Bazhir."
I turned in shock to the woman. "Not Alanna the Lioness, is it?"
She smiled, "The same. A Bazhir tribe, the Bloody Hawks, adopted me. Where are you headed, Numair?"
I shrugged, "It doesn't matter. I suppose I'll get to Corus eventually, but there's no hurry."
"What is it you do, Numair?" Alanna asked.
Warily, I replied. "I'm a street magician, nothing special."
"An educated street magician." The man observed. They exchanged glances.
"You look hungry," Alanna observed, it was the truth. "George and I were just going for a morning ride, we would be honored if you would join us in the Bloody Hawk camp."
It didn't seem like a good idea, but the promise of a good meal was too tempting an offer. I agreed.
"You have the look of a starved prisoner who has just seen cooked food for the first time in years." Alanna commented with raised eyebrows. A veiled woman served us hot stew and unleavened bread. My mouth was watering and I took a bite before replying.
"Thank the gods that isn't true," I replied, then immediately wished I'd kept my mouth shut. Alanna may be a legend, but that didn't mean I could trust her.
"Were you nearly a starved prisoner, then?" George asked.
"Uh… no, just counting my blessings, that's all."
Alanna and George exchanged another glance. I took the opportunity to get a better look at the Bloody Hawk tribe. The tents were larger than I expected and the food far better. Then again, I hadn't eaten a decent meal in months so any food seemed like a feast. As soon as we reached the camp, Alanna spoke to a veiled woman and we were served. For reasons I didn't know, we ate farther away from the other tribesmen. I suppose Alanna wanted to get information out of me. But I wanted information from her.
"Is it true the Bazhir, Doi, and K'mir share a common ancestry?"
Alanna looked sharply at me, "That's what King Jonathan belives."
I was fascinated. "Do the Bazhir share any of the prophetic gifts of the Doi?"
"No, the Bazhir have their own magic, it ties them together and unifies them."
"Oh! Like the Banjiku who are unified by their skill with animals. Their relationship with animals is truly amazing. It's because they possess special magic so animals can understand them."
"Normal animals? That's-" Alanna was cut off by George.
"The Banjiku are Carthaki slaves, Master Numair." George looked suspiciously at me. "Few'd know of their magical powers. Most don't even believe they can talk to animals. Are you, by chance, acquainted with a man named Arram Draper? He has devoted years t' studying the Banjiku form of magic, called Wild Magic."
Had I been discovered? Was George testing me? I decided to act ignorant. "Arram Draper? The name sounds familiar, but I don't think I've met him. Who is he?"
"A powerful sorcerer from Carthak, he is, who was recently accused of treason by the emperor. He escaped, though, and is now a fugitive. Perhaps you can keep an eye out fer `im. He's tall, probably about your height, with dark hair, almost as dark as yours. In fact, he looks almost exactly like you. Could that be because he is you?"
"George are you suggesting that this underfed street magician could be a powerful Carthaki traitor?" Alanna asked. I didn't say anything.
"Not suggesting, love, I know it t' be true. Am I right, Numair?"
I met George's eyes. "What are you planning to do with me? Give me back to Ozorne? He was just waiting for me to slip up, waiting to find an excuse to ruin me. I'm no traitor to Carthak, just a traitor to the cruel man that rules it. Would you condemn a man to death or worse for saving the lives of some innocent slaves?"
"Calm down, Numair or Arram, whatever your name is." Alanna said in an exasperated voice. "You don't have to make a speech. No one is turning you back to Ozorne." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Must you both be so melodramatic? George, our trip to Port Legonn has been postponed. We must take Arram to Jon and explain the situation."
"Take me to see the king?" I sprang up. "Then Ozorne will know where I am."
"Nonsense," George pulled me back down. "Jon knows what he's doing-"
"Most of the time." Alanna muttered.
"You're Numair Salmalin, a sorcerer educated in the City of the Gods."
"I have influence enough to make sure the priests in the City agree."
It was finally beginning to sink in. I would no longer have to hide. I would have a bed, food, and most importantly I had two of the king's closest friends to speak for me. In Tortall I could become the great sorcerer Ozorne wouldn't allow me to be. Life was looking better.
"Jonathan, may I present Numair Salmalin?" Alanna introduced me to King Jonathan. I bowed politely, but couldn't help staring. The king looked so… normal. He wore plain, brown breeches and a blue shirt. His hair was disheveled and his beard needed trimming. Unlike Ozorne, the only jewelry he wore was a simple wedding band. Yet there was an air of kingliness around him that far surpassed that of Ozorne.
"Ah, Numair, Alanna has told me about your… shall we say, situation." He indicated a seat and I took it. "You are welcome here, indeed we could use a powerful sorcerer such as yourself."
"Thank you, but I'm not very powerful. In Carthak, most of the magic we learn is frivolous and useless."
But the king didn't believe me. Instead, he asked me to instruct the Queen's riders in the magic of Carthak. Once I got over the shock of Queen Thayet, I fit right in. The Riders were from all different walks of life and they gladly welcomed me into their midst. Though I wasn't sure they would want a man of twenty to teach them, I was wrong. Soon I was going on missions with them and traveling all over Tortall.