Page 4 of The Sorcerer's Alpha

Sycamore dusted some imaginary dirt from his coat. Marut had been watching him ride, then. “Noted.”

Marut handed him the reins. “Lead her to the water, my lord. She’ll drink her fill. We ride out again soon.”

“Thank you,” Sycamore said, and Marut dipped a quick bow and walked away.

Sycamore let out a slow breath. His horse shifted her head toward the river, a gentle but undeniable tug on the reins, and Sycamore pulled himself from his stupor to lead her down to the sloped bank.

He mounted again, when the time came, with minimal awkward fumbling around, and on the first attempt.

* * *

A light rainbegan to fall as the road climbed out of the valley toward the hill pass leading west. Open meadow alongside the road gave way to stands of fir and spruce on the hillsides above, mixed with yew and cedar. Marut turned in his saddle to take his cloak from where he had rolled and tied it. He had anticipated rain; winters were wet, and wetter in the hills than in the valleys below.

The southern heartland of the country consisted of hilly broadleaf and evergreen forest from the mountainous eastern border to the Kasauli Hills in the west. Those hills were the reason for the war with Skopa: rich with tin, they had exchanged hands more than once over the centuries and, in Marut’s opinion, were likely to do so again. Chedi couldn’t adequately supply the army at such a remove from the densely inhabited valleys near the capital. The wizard, he imagined, was the king’s final, desperate effort to hold the border.

The patrol rode in a loose string, riders clustered here and there to share news or a waterskin, others alone. Ahead of him, the wizard rode less stiffly than before, but he would be sore regardless the next day and for several days thereafter.

As if she sensed where Marut’s attention lay, Jyoti pulled her gelding up beside him as they came through the wide saddle pass. “Surprised they’d risk a wizard on this war.”

Marut shrugged, keeping an eye on the pass. Wizards rarely left the palace, much less the city. There were many old tales of brave wizards saving the kingdom from one hazard or another, but in these days they were considered too valuable to be chanced on anything less than the most dire of threats. Marut hadn’t known the war with Skopa qualified.

“Did you learn anything from him about our mission? The wizard, I mean.”

“The sorcerer,” Marut said.

She clicked her tongue. “That’s a quick mouth on you.”

Marut smiled down at Bunny’s black ears. He and Jyoti had been raised together in the Temple of the Wind and joined the scouts together. Their mutual devotion was seen as an asset—a scout team operated on trust and loyalty—and they had never been separated since. Marut had no sister that he knew of, but he thought Jyoti might be what a sister was like.

“Well, did you?” Jyoti said, when Marut didn’t reply.

“No,” he said, with a glance behind him to make sure no one was in earshot. “I asked him. He knows nothing more than we do.”

“Hm.” She gave Marut a searching look. “What did you think of him?”

“We didn’t talk much,” Marut said. “I carried his bags. That was all.”

“And helped him with his horse,” Jyoti said. She was quiet for a minute, and Marut waited for some further commentary along those lines. Instead, she said, “Your hair looks better.”

“Thank you,” Marut said. He had taken some care with his haircut as he didn’t know when he would next have access to hot water or a mirror. Grooming standards fell by the wayside on patrol.

They kept to the road through the neighboring valley, following the river, and stopped for the night below the pass that led to the next valley over. Keerti called a halt at a clearing in a grove of maple and white oak, close enough to the river to make for easy watering of the horses.

All the talk in camp was of the wizard. The wizard had hatched from an egg, like a bird; no, he was the son of a dragon. The wizard had a third nipple, or a second cock; no, he was an ordinary man, at least in appearance. The wizard had lit a guard on fire for looking at him wrong. The wizard didn’t speak Chedoy at all but only hissed like a snake. Marut listened to the rumors as he stood beside the river letting Bunny drink. He supposed it was possible that the wizard’s trousers concealed some sign of his draconic ancestry, but he found that unlikely.

“Marut! You spoke with him,” said a scout from another team whom Marut had never liked, a man named Asav with more bravado than sense. “Did he hiss?”

“No,” Marut said.

“What’s his name?” asked someone else.

Marut exchanged a glance with Chandran, who was standing beside him watering his own horse. Chandran shook his head and spat onto the ground.

“Was the hissing more like a snake or more like a cat?” Asav asked.

Marut didn’t reply. Asav was a fool.

“This is why Keerti picked him,” Asav said to the gathered scouts. “He knows Marut’s tongue doesn’t work.”