Page 1 of The Sorcerer's Alpha
PARTI
CHAPTER1
Agasti leaned across the mess table with a gleeful expression not at all concealed by his beard. “Have you heard the news?”
“No.” Marut set his plate down and swung his leg over the bench to take his seat. The noise and commotion of the morning meal echoed off the low, barrel-vaulted ceiling of the cantonment’s mess hall, making the room seem even more crowded than it was. Marut wanted to eat his breakfast as quickly as possible and leave. He didn’t want to talk with Agasti right now. He didn’t care about Agasti’s news.
As usual, Agasti was undeterred by Marut’s brevity. His eyebrows bristled with the excitement of his gossip. “We’re getting sent out with awizard. That’s why they called us back to the city.”
Jyoti, seated at Marut’s left hand, set down her cup of tea. “You’d do best not to get into the habit of referring to him as such.”
Agasti rolled his eyes. “Oh, pardon me. We’re getting sent out with a sorcerer. Is that better?”
“It’s not me you have to worry about offending. You know they’re a touchy sort.” Jyoti braided her damp black hair and tied it off with a cord. She looked freshly scrubbed and alert. Marut envied her; there was never any wait for the women’s baths as there were so few women stationed at the palace, whereas Marut had tried for a bath before breakfast and been thwarted by the crowds. One night in Banuri and he was already longing for the green peacefulness of the hills.
He hoped Agasti was wrong. A wizard would mean slow travel and more ceremony than Marut cared for. Not to mention the magic.
“Where are the others?” he asked, to end this talk of the wizard.
“Still asleep. Lazy,” Agasti proclaimed. His plate of flatbread and pickled vegetables was untouched; Marut surmised he had been too busy chewing Jyoti’s ear off to eat. “We’re riding out at noon, so they’d do well to sleep while they can, I suppose.”
“Who told you that?” Jyoti asked. Her own plate was empty, which meant she had been sitting here for some time now indulging Agasti, as they all tended to. Even Marut couldn’t deny that he was fond of the insufferable loudmouth.
“Keerti, obviously,” Agasti said, naming their patrol’s leader. “I don’t know where we’re going, but no one’s wasting any time in getting us there.”
As the patrol had only returned from the borderlands yesterday, Agasti wasn’t exaggerating. A single night in Banuri to sleep in an actual bed and bathe, and then back out to the front. Chedi was not winning this war, and rest was a luxury none of them could afford.
Marut had hoped to visit Purya and the children. There would be no time for that now.
As if Agasti had summoned him, Keerti cut through the crowd and stopped at the end of their table, his dark face drawn in its habitual absent frown. His gray hair was shorter than it had been the day before and combed to one side with a crisp part; he had managed a bath, then, braver or more determined than Marut was.
“Marut,” Keerti said, and Marut gave a casual salute with the piece of torn flatbread he was holding, touching its tip to his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now.” He shot a glance at Agasti. “I’ll have you go fetch the sorcerer when you’re done here. Collect any belongings he has and bring him to the stables when he’s ready. We leave after the midday meal.”
“Why him?” Agasti complained, saving Marut the trouble of having to complain himself.
“Because he won’t gossip or call the sorcerer a wizard to his face.” Keerti nodded at Marut and left.
“You always get the fun assignments,” Agasti said.
Marut put his flatbread in his mouth. He and Agasti had very different definitions of fun.
* * *
The wizardsall lived in the upper reaches of the palace complex, high on a hilltop above the city, where Marut never went. The cantonment was positioned at the palace’s northern border, with the barracks built into the palace wall. Although Marut’s business took him into the palace proper at times, he visited only the stables or the guardroom, never the high chambers where the royal household lived.
He had to find a guard now to escort him as he didn’t know the way. The captain of the guard sent him off with a young soldier, hardly more than a boy, beardless and cheerful. He peppered Marut with questions about the war and didn’t seem to mind Marut’s short, fumbling answers. Marut already felt that he had aged five years every time he returned to the capital, and this show of youthful enthusiasm wasn’t helping matters any. He didn’t know exactly how old he was, but he had been a scout since before his own beard came in, more than a decade ago now. He had surely never been as young as this guard.
“Up here,” the boy said, pointing to yet another staircase. On their way up, they passed a veiled maidservant heading down with her arms full of linens, and Marut dropped his gaze, not wanting to offend her. He was still filthy from the long ride back to Banuri, a week of waking before dawn and pushing the horses hard until there was no light left. He wished Keerti had given him leave to take his bath first.
They kept to the back stairways, at least, and Marut saw little of the palace except empty, featureless hallways. At last, the guard turned left, then left again, and they walked down a wide corridor lined on one side with tall windows, all shuttered now against the midwinter chill. The walls of the corridor were plastered and painted eggshell blue with decorative floral borders in white, wholly unlike the utilitarian cantonment. Paintings hung at regular intervals depicted past generals and kings. Marut tried not to gawk too visibly as he passed.
The guard stopped before a carved wooden door and knocked. When there was no answer, he knocked again, and flashed Marut a grin. “Wizards,” he said conspiratorially.
Marut wasn’t sure what the proper response was. He tried for a smile.
The door opened, revealing a dark-skinned man with his hair pulled back in a knot. “What do you want?” he asked. His words were impolite, but his tone was that of mild curiosity, as though he truly had no inkling why they had come to his door.
Marut’s nostrils flared. Was he—