Scars of Stone

Chapter 1-2-2

With all their differences and all his obligations to Yoreus, Ryell weighed his options, and only truth could salvage what little trust she might have had. “I worried about you, and I missed you.” He shrank under Kamira’s inquisitive gaze, but he couldn’t blame her for remaining suspicious and sighed with surrender. “I made my promises to Yoreus before I knew… Before I realized…” He shook his head, as the right words weren’t coming. “The world was much simpler when I hated all the arcanists the same.” It didn’t come out as lighthearted as he’d hoped for, and he turned his head away with an awkward smile that might as well have been a grimace.

“So, what are you going to do now?” she asked with enough amusement to put him at ease. “Hate all the arcanists again?”

“No,” he replied. “But I do wish you weren’t one. Demons destroyed my home and slaughtered our people. I can’t simply forget it.” Ryell shifted uneasily. He needed to change the direction of their conversation. “Can I ask you something? Why did you get expelled?” He’d heard enough gossip, because even if Kamira’s name didn’t come up often in the conversations he overheard around the Towers, the mentions of “that student who got expelled” were frequent enough. The story sounded like a cautionary tale for children, so Ryell had had a hard time learning the details, even from Archmage Yoreus himself. On one hand, Kamira’s deed was supposed to be beyond any acceptable boundaries, but on the other, Yoreus always referred to it as “a triviality” when he spoke of her possible return.

Her face dimmed at his words, making him realize how unpleasant the memory must have been. At the same time, her reaction allowed a sliver of hope that she cared, and, given an opportunity, she would consider going back to the High Towers.

“I refused to sleep with my teacher.” A grimace twisted her mouth.

His eyes widened. All that gossip, all those reminders, and… “Just for that?!”

“I might have added a few insulting words to the ‘no’ part.” Her playful tone told Ryell she was back to her usual self, as if she chose not to dwell on the past, and his hopes faded. “It’s in the past. I don’t think of it much. And I don’t regret it.”

She smiled, but more to her own thoughts than to him, and then shook her head. Whatever thought she might have had, she was discarding it, so if Ryell wanted to make her reconsider, he needed to make her doubt her own choice first.

“I don’t know if I understand,” he said with caution. Kamira wasn’t quick to anger, but if she suspected he had ulterior motives, he’d suffer the consequences, likely cold responses and scathing remarks. “Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be a royal guard, but my family was from a minor noble house, and we lived at the borders of Devanshari.” To speak about it brought sudden pain as the memories of the war surfaced. Most of his relatives had perished when the demons first attacked, before the barrier could be raised, and he knew nothing of what happened to those who survived. They might have made it out of his family lands only to die months later in the slaughter of the capital. Too busy with Yoreus’s requests and Atissa’s charms, too obsessed with finding a way to bring Cahala to justice, he’d never even asked after them, and guilt overwhelmed him. Forcing back his focus, Ryell discarded those thoughts and continued. “I did everything I could to join the border patrol first, and then our capital’s garrison. It took me years, but finally I was offered a place among the royal guards. I can’t imagine giving it up, no matter the humiliations I had to suffer…” He bit his tongue, realizing too late that there was a difference to being a pushover for guards from the wealthier families and having to sleep with someone to secure as little as a student’s position. “I apologize.”

“No need,” she replied, her voice hushed, as if contrary to her reassurance he’d struck a painful chord. “When I first went to the High Towers, I had every bit the intention of becoming an archmage one day, and I worked hard for it.” She stared off, reminiscing. “But in the end, it was all pointless when not jumping into Kerl’s bed was more important than my skills or knowledge. Even if I found another way, I’d become part of the corruption that rots the Towers from within.”

“But if you had another chance,” he said, unable to resist. “Maybe with another archmage—”

In a sharp move, Kamira turned her head toward him, and Ryell found himself trapped by her gaze, composed and unyielding. “Do you really think Yoreus wants anything other than to humiliate me and have power over me? You heard yourself how he speaks to me.”

Ryell swallowed and gave a reluctant nod, because no matter what argument he could conjure against it, his own or the archmage’s, the pieces of Yoreus’s conversation with Kamira remained fresh. He still wanted to believe that it was Kamira who’d pushed the archmage into such behavior with her taunts, but he couldn’t deny that Yoreus had acted more hostile than benevolent.

“So, how’s being an arcanist different?” he asked, the first question that came to mind. He risked hearing about demons, but even that seemed better than dwelling on what real motives Yoreus could have to want Kamira’s return to the High Towers. All of a sudden, Ryell felt like a pawn in a game he didn’t understand.

The question brought a smile to her face, and that alone was worth suffering through whatever her answer could be.

“Students of the arcane arts are expected to learn and to grow, to bring pride to the teachers. They are challenged and pushed to work harder, even to question the teaching and find new solutions, or draw conclusions from their own mistakes. I learned more in a month as an apprentice arcanist than in a year at the High Towers.” As she spoke of the past, her voice softened and carried a longing undertone.

Ryell hid his relief at the lack of demons, but the words themselves sounded like an arcanist’s attempt to prove her school’s superiority. “It sounds quite… blissful.”

Kamira burst out laughing. “It was everything but that. You see, in the High Towers, well-placed flattery helped you get away with things, while studying with Master Tijhran meant I got to taste the consequences of every single mistake I made, and no compliment or excuse would allow it to slide. On the day I made my pact, he took out a bottle of his best wine, and we drank late into the night, but in the morning he still kicked me out with nothing but a few of my belongings and told me I had to prove my worth by supporting myself for six months with my art before he’d offer any more teaching.”

“And did you?”

Her laughter filled the room again. “Of course I did! I was determined to prove he had never had a better student. But the first weeks were harsh. Then I found a small village that had no medic or herbalist. I mostly helped with broken limbs and infected wounds, not really using much magic, but…” She chuckled. “I was still bold enough to send Master Tijhran a letter asking if he’d like me to come back, because if not, I was set for life.”

It was Ryell’s turn to burst into laughter, and he savored it. “Taking care of farmers and their livestock?”

“I didn’t mention that part. And when he politely replied that it was up to me, and he’d already chosen a replacement should I decide not to come back…” She grinned. “I was back at his door in a week.”

Her face radiated joy as she spoke about her teacher, and Ryell couldn’t help thinking that this arcanist had to be very similar to Kamira: stubborn and ambitious, with a bit of a rebellious nature. The docile and obedient students never strayed from the high mage path.

Atissa’s face resurfaced in Ryell’s mind. She might have had that rebellious spark about her, but it seemed more of a childish whim than anything else, and her behavior around Yoreus was always obedient and servile. In a way, Atissa reminded him of the spoiled daughters of Devanshari noblemen he’d gotten to know all too well once he received his post in the capital. Kamira, on the other hand, was older and more mature, so her rebellion stemmed from disagreeing with the way the High Towers were. Even if Ryell considered her perspective flawed, he could relate to that refusal to submit. After all, he wouldn’t have become a royal guard if he yielded to the rules of his kingdom.

“You’re staring at me,” she said, part reprimand, part curiosity.

Lost in his thoughts, he’d missed the silence that fell between them. “I… It’s because you look so different with your hair down. Why do you put it up?” He grasped for the first excuse that came to mind, though he actually liked the way she looked.

“It’s practical.” The shrug accompanying her words suggested that she hadn’t thought about it much. “It doesn’t get in the way when I travel or fight.”

“And all the bones and feathers you put in it?” Ryell glanced at the table, where an array of her accessories lay scattered.

“At first, I did it only to annoy my family.” She smirked. “The look on my aunts’ faces when they saw me… It was worth it. Then it became a habit, and now it’s a way to ensure no one mistakes me for a high mage.”

The challenge in her words became clear when she looked straight at him, and all Ryell could do was to nod, cursing his own curiosity. His questions were bound to drive a wedge between them even deeper, at least until Kamira learned to trust him more. As much as he wanted to spend more time with her, he risked ruining the friendly mood of sharing amusing stories. It was time to take his wins and leave the rest for the next time… if there even was to be one.

With a heavy heart, he looked her in the eye. “I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t deny my… obligations to the archmage and his daughter,” he said, “but I enjoy your company, and I was hoping that… I could visit again. Ask you about your health, and maybe share more laughter. It’s the least I can do in return for all you did for me and my people.”

“I’d… like that.” Her face revealed that he’d surprised her, and Ryell took that little victory.

“Thank you.” He stood up. At least it felt like he’d made a step forward in building trust, no matter how small it was. “I took enough of your time today, and you need to rest.” He hesitated, but it seemed she wouldn’t accept a kiss, not after he had admitted how close he was with Atissa, so instead he bowed.

“It was nice seeing you,” she said.

He stepped out into the corridor, comforted by the warmth of her response and the hope of being welcomed back in the future, but when he closed the door, his hands were shaking. He cared more than he was ready to admit, more than the pawn he was supposed to be should care. After what Kamira had told him, he couldn’t deny the possibility that the archmage had used Ryell to play his own game. Taking a deep breath, he turned to leave, but then he heard someone else speaking in the room.

“He wasn’t being fully honest with you.”

The deep tone echoed with wisdom and little else, no emotions, nothing, and Ryell froze. From what little he knew, summoning demons to speak with them took time and effort, but it couldn’t have been anyone else. He debated whether to reenter, but Kamira’s reply held him fast.

“Neither was I with him.”