Page 2 of The Sorcerer's Alpha
“Apologies for disturbing you, Lord Sorcerer.” The guard bowed. “This scout’s here on business.”
The wizard’s eyes flicked to Marut. He had no beard, although he wasn’t a boy; he looked to be about Marut’s age, more likely somewhat older. Although his coat was richly embroidered to show his station, he was physically unremarkable in every way: average height, average build, average looks. He had no distinguishing features aside from an old, faded scar above his left eyebrow. But his gaze was sharp and bright, and seemed to pierce Marut like a fish hook, catching at something within him and tugging hard.
“Thank you,” the wizard said to the guard, a clear dismissal. The boy bowed again and left.
The wizard stepped back to clear the doorway. “Come.”
Marut hesitated. He knew he wasn’t mistaken: the man was an omega. To go inside with him unchaperoned was almost unthinkable.
The wizard’s expression hardened like ice freezing over a high mountain pond. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” Marut said. He straightened his spine and went forward through the door.
Inside was a sitting room comfortably furnished with a divan and a writing desk, and a thick rug covering the floor. A wooden chest below the windows bore multiple stacks of books, the tallest sloping so precariously that Marut was amazed it hadn’t toppled over. Several small potted trees lined the windowsill. A closed door in the far wall presumably led to a sleeping chamber. The room smelled strongly of its owner, and Marut tried to draw in deep breaths without too obviously doing so, tasting the man’s scent. He hadn’t known. He would never have imagined that one of the wizards was an omega. He hadn’t thought there were any omegas in the palace now that Prince Suriya was gone.
“I’ve packed already,” the wizard said. He gestured to a small pile of luggage beside the door, two shapeless bundles wrapped in canvas and a set of saddlebags that looked conspicuously new. “I was told we wouldn’t depart until noon.”
“Oh—well.” Marut floundered for a moment. “I’m to take your things, and—do you need a horse?”
The wizard looked faintly alarmed. “I’m expected to ride?”
“We travel with no carts. For speed.”
“I see.” The wizard eyed his luggage. “Wait a moment.” He went through the closed door. Marut caught a glimpse of a bed before the door closed again. After a minute, the wizard re-emerged wearing a different coat, this one made of undecorated but finely tanned leather. He turned up the collar and said, “Help me carry this to the stables, then.”
Marut wondered if the wizard couldn’t use his magic to transport the luggage. He was just as glad not to receive a demonstration. Wordlessly, he lifted the bundles and tucked one beneath each arm. They weren’t heavy, so either the wizard had received expert advice on what to pack for fast travel through the wilderness, or he was woefully under-prepared. Marut would learn which it was soon enough.
The wizard led him to the stables at a brisk clip, leaving Marut thankful for his longer legs that allowed him to keep pace without hurrying. The main halls of the palace were decorated with elegant stonework and intricately detailed paintings, but Marut only caught glimpses as he went by. The palace was a maze of courtyards joining individual buildings, and Marut was lost after only a few turns. He couldn’t fathom anyone being able to navigate the palace complex as confidently as the wizard did. All he knew was that they went steadily downward.
At last, they came out through a stone archway and Marut recognized the entrance to the stables ahead, and the cobbled courtyard that led out to the Firebird Gate. A damp, cool mist clung to the ground, as if a cloud had descended from the sky. The wizard stopped before the open doors and set down his saddlebags. “In here, I presume.”
“Yes.” Marut locked eyes with a guard standing nearby and gestured the man over with a tilt of his head. A quick mention of Keerti’s name brought two other guards over to take the wizard’s belongings and carry them into the stables. With that dispensed with, Marut said, “Do you have a horse?”
“No.” A flicker of some emotion crossed the wizard’s face. “I don’t often ride horses.”
Marut had done what he’d been tasked with. Keerti had told him to bring the wizard and his belongings to the stables, nothing more. But he knew Keerti, and knew he was meant to follow the spirit of Keerti’s orders rather than the letter.
He thought, longingly, of the bath that awaited him in the cantonment.
“I can help you,” he said. “Pick a horse. If you’d like.”
“Thank you,” the wizard said, his bright eyes on Marut’s face. His gaze flayed Marut to the bone. “You’re meant to call me Sorcerer, or my lord, or Lord Sorcerer. So that no one thinks you’re being discourteous, you see.”
The wizard’s tone was mild. He meant to warn Marut—to help him, not to chastise him. Marut bowed, awkward with the unfamiliarity of the gesture. This wizard wasn’t what he had expected.
He led the man into the stables. For an unskilled rider, he would want either a placid log of a horse too imperturbable to mind what sat upon it, or an intelligent but good-natured animal that would recognize its rider’s inexperience and do its best to assist. The scouts kept some horses in reserve as backstop for injuries and aging, and Marut was familiar with many of the animals stabled in the palace. He thought as he walked through the long central passage of the stables. A clever horse, he decided, for a clever man. A stolid dullard of a horse would surely be alarmed to find itself paired with such a sharp mind. The wizard made him think of a goshawk, quick and fierce.
“Here,” he said, stopping before a particular stall. The occupant put her nose over the door to investigate him. “Hello, sweetheart,” Marut murmured to her, lifting one hand to let her press her nose to his knuckles. She nudged at him, her ears pricked toward him, and he stroked her neck. “I have someone here to meet you.” He turned to the wizard. “This is Rhododendron, my lord.”
“I see.” The wizard watched dubiously as Rhododendron snuffled at Marut’s hair.
“Give her your hand as I did.” Marut stepped back to let the wizard take his place. She was a compact sorrel mare with a white stripe down her nose, small but curious and quick of foot, and was—in Marut’s opinion—the finest horse not already in service of a patrol. She bent to nose at the wizard’s hand, and Marut had to turn his gaze away from the man’s unselfconscious smile as she sniffed at his face. They would get along, then. Good.
“Have you been told where we’re going?” the wizard asked, attention on Rhododendron as he stroked her nose.
“No,” Marut said. He imagined they would return to the borderlands, but that was only a guess. He watched the man’s graceful hand extend to pat Rhododendron’s neck. “You also don’t know, I take it. My lord.”
The wizard looked at him then. His eyes skimmed over Marut from his head down to his feet, taking in his shaggy hair and his road-worn clothing. Marut clasped his hands behind his back and didn’t waver. He had come by his dishevelment honestly. The wizard had already shown his hand; Marut was wary of him, but not frightened or intimidated. He felt no need to apologize for either his appearance or his words.