Page 7 of The Sorcerer's Alpha
“I suppose so.” He watched the wizard staring up at the sky as Rhododendron drank, absently stroking her neck. He didn’t know what the man was watching. Clouds, perhaps.
“Unsettling country,” Jyoti said, and left it at that.
They arrived in White Valley late the following afternoon, in the last of the weak winter sunlight. A sentry stopped them at the valley’s narrow mouth and wouldn’t let them pass until the wizard spoke to him. As they came around the canyon wall, Keerti abruptly raised his hand for a halt, and Marut pressed forward to see what the matter was.
The valley was filled with soldiers and horses, tents, even a few carts. He had expected a patrol or two, a company at most, but this was an entire battalion, and mainly foot soldiers. They had walked here from the camp at Beas, and for what purpose?
“There’s nothing here,” said Agasti beside him in a low voice, echoing Marut’s own thoughts.
“And yet they want the wizard here,” Marut said.
“We’ve been told nothing. What have we ridden into?”
Marut shrugged. Nothing good, that was for certain.
An officer came over to speak with Keerti and direct the patrol to the only remaining open ground, far at the head of the valley. It wasn’t a true closed valley, rather an open canyon, and Marut was glad to be camped near the other mouth instead of in the claustrophobic middle. Still, he hated to be so hemmed in. The hillsides weren’t so steep that a determined man couldn’t climb to the top, but they wouldn’t serve as an easy exit route.
The lights and commotion of the camp seemed to set everyone else in the patrol at ease, even Keerti, who went around to each team’s fire as he always did to share a few minutes of friendly conversation. Even the wizard, at the next fire over, whistled briefly as he rubbed Rhododendron down before recollecting his dignity. Only Marut sat beneath a dark cloud. He was accustomed to going where he was told and operating with minimal information, but there were too many unknown this time, and too many elements that didn’t make sense to him.
Everyone left him alone. His silence wasn’t, he supposed, out of the ordinary. Even Jyoti said nothing more to him than to wish him a cheery goodnight when he retired to their tent. He slept, this time, despite his worries, as well and deeply as he could ever ask for.
In the morning, when Ganak and Nilay came back to the fire after fetching water at the spring, Ganak said to Marut, “Did you know that the wizard’s an omega?”
Marut took a sip of his tea. “Is he?”
Ganak gave him a flat look. “Don’t play stupid with me. I know your alpha nose tells you things.”
“Ganak is full of gossip, as you see,” Nilay said. They set down the filled waterskins they were carrying and sat beside Marut on the spare blanket laid out to cover the bare ground. “But is it true?”
“Who told you that?” Marut asked.
“Kumar,” Ganak said, naming one of the patrol’s other alphas. He set down his own waterskins. “He said he suspected before, but the wizard kept his distance. But he got a good sniff this morning at the spring.”
“Don’t be crude,” Nilay said. They reached for the plate of flatbread Chandran offered. “The man won’t thank you for telling tales about him, and that’s not an enemy you’d be happy to make.”
“It’s shocking, isn’t it?” Ganak went on as if Nilay had said nothing. “For him to go around like that, bare-faced—”
“You’re old-fashioned,” Jyoti said, and Marut stopped paying attention as they began bickering about the merits of veils. Privately, he agreed that it was shocking. At the wizard’s age, he should be married with three or four children, or ensconced in a temple somewhere. Not gallivanting around the countryside, unescorted and unveiled, in the company of strange alphas. Omegas were rare and should be honored and protected. But wizards had their own laws, and who was Marut to say what those were? Being a wizard overrode being an omega. No one here would tell the wizard how to conduct himself.
After breakfast, Marut went on foot through the mouth of the valley and down the long canyon. The soldiers guarding the canyon’s narrow entrance nodded to him as he passed and let him go without question. Past the canyon, the hills opened into a wide meadow. Grazing deer lifted their heads to stare at him. The gray sky spoke of rain, but Marut didn’t expect any would fall; rainfall in the badlands was infrequent, even in winter, although torrential when it came. The air smelled of smoke. He walked only far enough to find two promising routes south and another that doubled back north toward Beas. He had spent many months in the Kasauli over the past few years, but he had only passed through White Valley once before, and he liked to have a clear escape plan.
The camp was milling with the sort of useless activity he recognized from the waiting stages of past campaigns: soldiers with nothing to do but attempt to occupy themselves in some manner, telling jokes or shooting marbles. His own team was seated on the ground near their tents, inspecting tack and repairing minor holes in blankets and clothing. Marut busied himself with checking Bunny’s hooves, and the wizard found him there, approaching with a frown on his face that promised nothing good.
“Is there a vantage point nearby?” the wizard asked, skipping any greeting or polite inquiry about the quality of Marut’s sleep.
Marut had little interest in sociable chat and no objection to doing without. “Easily accessible? No.”
“Accessible at all will do well enough. Is there?”
Marut pointed directly up the slope of the nearest canyon wall. “Along the ridge there.”
The wizard peered upward. “You aren’t serious.”
Marut shrugged. The only other option was to ride around in the badlands until they found an easier promontory, and he didn’t need to explain why that wasn’t a good idea. The wizard wasn’t stupid.
“All right.” The wizard grimaced. “On foot, I take it.”
“The horses won’t like it.” Marut tucked the hoof pick back into his bags. “Now?”