The End of Magic - Chapter 19
Aug. 30th, 2021 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desastristaThe End of Magic is an original multichaptered fantasy work that I am currently publishing on both AO3 and Dreamwidth. You can find the master post of all chapters here or just click the "end of magic" tag. (AO3 link here)
"Is there anything you need from me, janum?" Esma asked. It was the third time she'd asked the question within the hour, and Nadide still had no answer for her. The maidservant resumed her sweeping. Nadide just remained sitting on the cushion. She had not moved from the spot since they had come to arrest Ahmad.
Six of the Imperial Magician's guards had knocked on the door, requesting that Ahmad come with them. They'd been armed, swords and Mucevheden at their sides. Ahmad had obeyed at first, even as Nadide tried to reason with the men, tried to order them out of her brother’s home, tried everything she could think of to make these men who would not listen to her hear even one word.
Then the men made to take Mahir too, and Ahmad had tried to stop them. But he was badly outnumbered and the guards had come expecting a fight. It could not have taken more than a minute.
And that had been hours ago.
Esma had tried to sweep up some of the dust and debris that covered the first floor now, but Nadide had stopped her. Ozal would be home soon. He would want to see firsthand. Until then, she could stare at the destruction and think about what might have been if only she had been quicker to realize she could do more now to help Ahmad than plead in vain with those men. What might have been if her secret hadn’t weighed so heavily on her and slowed her down.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Nadide turned towards the doorway, eyeing it curiously. The door had been ripped off its hinges. Knocking on the frame was only making a mockery of courtesy. Who could it possibly be?
She stood up slowly and began to walk towards the entrance when the answer stopped her in her tracks. Savaner kishah stood before her and gave her a low, courteous bow.
Nadide could not believe it. She did not want to believe it. For a minute, she thought she might scream at this man, lay all the curses she knew at his feet, but she bit her tongue -- and that when she saw the unconscious figure being carried by a man standing next to the kishah. Then it felt like the scream had been ripped from her throat.
Ozal. Again. Nadide's knees went weak and she collapsed on the ground. All of a sudden, it was three months ago and she was powerless and alone, the last member of her family here in Kadehir on the brink of death, and her world crumbling around her.
“He was found like this in the Inner Sanctum, janum,” the man carrying Ozal said. A young man, probably a soldier. He appeared genuinely concerned.
Nadide stared at him for a moment, trying to rearrange the pieces of the world back into a whole that made sense. Memories returned to her slowly. She remembered her brother being cured once before. She remembered meeting Ahmad. And she remembered asking him to teach her magic -- teach her in case the man who had cursed her brother decided to try it again. Now that man had done exactly that, and he stood in front of her, with an expression carefully arranged to suggest sincerity.
“Esma, Kadim, see that my brother is taken to his quarters,” Nadide ordered. She stood up slowly, shakily. "I will join you in a minute." Her voice was hoarse. Even she could not tell if grief or anger clouded her words more. It didn’t matter. The soldier, the Mucevhed and her maidservant all walked past her, leaving Nadide and Savaner alone in the great room.
Not alone, she corrected herself. Perhaps he would be proud that she had missed him initially. Mahir had always seemed to desire to fade into the background. Now he just stared at her, unseeing.
He was wearing a collar -- a real one, not at all like the pretend one he’d been wearing before. Magic crackled in it, strong enough that Nadide was surprised it had not yet turned the leather white. She thought of the waves that had lapped at her ankles as the ocean had delivered to her the body of Savaner kishah’s last Mucevhed. Was this the collar the boy had been wearing before --?
“I was the one who directed that your brother be brought here. I admit I thought you would have more to say.”
Savaner kishah was speaking to her. Nadide fought to curl her lip.
“I see you managed the spell without nearly killing your Mucevhed this time.”
Perhaps she imagined it, but she thought she saw Savaner kishah flinch. Good.
His eyes darted towards the stairs, making sure that the others really had gone. No one he cared about would overhear this conversation. “The fight with the desert magician was -- illuminating, in certain ways.” He fidgeted. Nadide wondered which bothered him more, the admission of guilt or the indirect praise for Ahmad.
“Where is Ahmad bajedi?” she asked.
There was a satisfied tone in Savaner kishah's voice as he answered, “I have been told that he will be delivered to justice by none other than the Sheikh of Magicians himself.”
“Delivered to justice,” Nadide repeated in disbelief. Coming from Savaner kishah’s mouth, the words sounded worse than mockery. They were almost indecent. He had started to smile.
“Are you surprised to learn that the man you trusted, the man your brother let live under his roof, is actually a thief?”
Nadide felt her palms itch. She could feel the magic of Kadehir around her. This man stood in front of her with such glib confidence. He had no idea what she could do. She could strike him down -- or at least she could try. Her shield had collapsed against the brunt of his magic before, but this time she had the element of surprise. She had been slow to move even earlier today, but this time would be different, this time she could --
She could make Savaner kishah a martyr.
Nadide forced herself to take a deep, rattling breath. She could try to strike him down, and she might succeed. But if he died here today, he would still die a hero. No one would know about the lives he had destroyed.
She could get her revenge. She longed for it. But she had also been carrying the weight of the truth alone for so long. And in that moment, she realized that there was a way for her to free herself from that burden. She just needed to play her part.
Nadide slumped her shoulders in defeat. “You’re the only one who can lift the curse on Ozal. You got your Mucevhed back from Ahmad. You’ve gotten everything you wanted.”
It was a stiled performance, but she trusted that the kishah would see only what he wanted to see.
“Ah, janum, you are cold-hearted to say such a thing,” Savaner replied, with mock injury. He sounded pleased. He’d come expecting a broken woman; Nadide was finally providing that for him.
“There is something you want that you haven’t gotten just yet, though.” Her voice turned cold. She could see a flicker of apprehension in his eyes, but he smothered it behind a flat smile.
“Is that so?”
“You’re a hero in Kadehir. But no matter how many battles you win, no matter how many friends flock to you in the Stand, I am sure that men still pause before they bring up your father in your presence.”
Savaner’s smile thinned dangerously. Most of the magicians of the Stand were the sons of magicians, who were in turn sons of magicians. They had all grown up in the shadows of the God-trees. Savaner kishah was the son of a butcher whose magical abilities were only discovered by chance later in life. The Stand had called it a joyous occasion. But Nadide knew how people talked. No doubt there were times Savaner kishah had wished for a more ordinary path.
"I have heard your brother can trace his lineage back to the founders of Kadehir," the kishah noted, any emotion in his voice carefully contained. "It did little to help him."
"No," Nadide agreed. "But no one ever wondered at his place in the Stand."
Her brother had never noticed that. He’d grown up with the understanding that he would join the Stand; Nadide had grown up with the understanding that she never would. It made it easier for her to see the greed in Savaner kishah’s eyes now.
There had to be a reason he had come back here. It was obviously not out of concern for Ozal. Nor was it like the last time he had visited, when he had come searching for information. He knew everything he needed to know now. No, there was something else he wanted.
That something appeared to be Nadide.
She swallowed heavily. The next words felt heavy on her tongue -- they did not want to leave her mouth. "I am sure you desire sons one day. Sons who will have an easier time at the Stand than you did."
The corner of Savaner kishah's mouth quirked. Nadide knew she had guessed correctly. "Some of my friends have started to introduce me to their sisters or daughters."
Nadide's nostrils flared. “No doubt that is an honor they could have bestowed on you earlier, if they had so chosen.” He had meant the words to wound her; she could answer in kind. “I am sure you can wed any of those daughters of Kadehir. But none of them, Savaner, will know you as I do.”
Their eyes met and Nadide knew they had an understanding. Nausea threatened to overtake her, but there was an understanding. Savaner was making sure that there was no one left who could tell the world the truth about him. He had guaranteed Ahmad’s silence with his arrest and Mahir’s with that accursed collar; he’d purchased Ozal’s silence with a curse. But that still left Nadide. A curse might stop her too, but there were other ways too. A wife was supposed to obey her husband, after all. Marriage would bind the families together, tying Savaner’s fate with Nadide and Ozal’s. And there was an advantage to choosing this path: this way, Savaner kishah could marry into a family with a history his own lacked.
It was, for Savaner, an elegant solution, Nadide had to admit. The kishah did not need violence or magic to buy Nadide’s silence; Nadide’s silence would be her dowry gift.
“You have no relatives left here for me to confer with, so I have no choice but to tell you directly.” He began. Crisp. Impersonal. This was a transaction, after all. “I will make the arrangements -- we can be wed tomorrow. There is no point in delaying. Some may wonder why you are rushing to marry with everything else that has happened, but it will be a small ceremony. A quick affair.”
Not a proper wedding at all. But Nadide had not even wanted to get married, at least not yet, and never under circumstances like this. Compared to that, what did she care if the wedding was proper?
“Who will be present, then?” Nadide asked. She tried to dull the edge of her question. Let him think it was idle curiosity.
“The Imperial Magician, some other members of the Stand,” Savaner answered, in a voice that made it clear it was of no importance to him. If he noticed that the words seemed to please Nadide, he did not remark upon it.
But, of course, she could not say what it was that she really wanted. She had to pretend, instead. “And when it is over, do you swear that Ozal --”
“I swear to the Maiden herself that I will ensure the best care is available for my brother-in-law and his home.” He completed the words for her with a smile that bared all his teeth. Nadide fought a shudder.
"I will be ready by tomorrow morning," she forced herself to say. "Until then, I must check on my brother."
She could hardly stand another minute in the man’s company. But it had been enough. The trap was set. Savaner nodded, made to take his leave.
“One last question,” she called out to his retreating form. Her tongue felt tangled in her mouth as she prepared her last question. “I know it is customary for the magicians to marry below the God-trees. And you pledged your service to the Maiden. So will be married under her boughs?”
The kishah seemed surprised by the question but not, to her relief, suspicious. “Of course,” he answered before turning once again to leave. Mahir trailed silently behind him. Nadide was truly alone now, standing among the wreckage of her home, with her breath coming in shallow gasps.
It was easy. It was so easy. That was the difference.
Savaner kishah was deep in discussion about something with the Imperial Magician. A wedding, Mahir thought distantly; it was important that he remember at least enough details to stop himself from looking foolish later. Otherwise, he was to remain silent. Attentive but unobtrusive.
His thoughts were a haze, but he knew that at least. More than knew. He wanted -- wanted desperately to serve his master well and to be quiet. And he was good at it! It was a nice feeling, to know that he was doing what he wanted and doing it well.
"She wants a proper Stand wedding, in the Inner Sanctum," he heard his master say.
The Imperial Magician frowned. "A proper Stand wedding lasts three days. It takes months to plan --"
"You think she wants the burden of all that? She's half out of her mind with grief. And who can blame her, after everything the Vaspahanians had done to her brother before --"
There was a disgust in his voice that, to Mahir, meant the matter was settled. But still the Imperial Magician did not seem convinced. “I know you are worried about this family, but I wish you worried more about the Vaspahanians. Their fleet was destroyed. They are due to arrive any day now to formally sue for peace. How could they have breached our defenses and poisoned one of our own again?"
Mahir started to frown. This man was not giving his master the deference he was due. That wasn’t right. Was there something Mahir should be doing to set it right?
His master just shook his head. "You worry too much, Tolga. The Vaspahanians have been defeated. Whatever happened to Ozal now, I don’t think it is the same poison as before. I am sure that in no time he'll be back on his feet and able to explain exactly what happened to him now. And in the meantime, we can at least help his poor sister have some measure of solace."
"I hope you're right," the Imperial Magician sighed, but he appeared to be a little more at ease now. “I wish the circumstances could be better, but I will be happy to see you married tomorrow. And to a family with such pedigree! Imagine the future of your magic that your sons will create.”
Mahir watched his master nod with satisfaction. He’d gotten what he had wanted. He hadn’t needed Mahir at all. What an absurd thought it had been -- he wasn’t sure why it had ever occurred to him that he might need to say something. Better just to stay quiet and do what was asked of him.
He was aware, in a general way, that when they’d first put this new collar on him that he had resisted. He had been concerned about a spell. But he couldn’t remember the specifics. Perhaps that was the spell’s doing. But he wondered why he had ever fought against it. It didn’t seem so bad.
Things were easier this way.
"Is there anything you need from me, janum?" Esma asked. It was the third time she'd asked the question within the hour, and Nadide still had no answer for her. The maidservant resumed her sweeping. Nadide just remained sitting on the cushion. She had not moved from the spot since they had come to arrest Ahmad.
Six of the Imperial Magician's guards had knocked on the door, requesting that Ahmad come with them. They'd been armed, swords and Mucevheden at their sides. Ahmad had obeyed at first, even as Nadide tried to reason with the men, tried to order them out of her brother’s home, tried everything she could think of to make these men who would not listen to her hear even one word.
Then the men made to take Mahir too, and Ahmad had tried to stop them. But he was badly outnumbered and the guards had come expecting a fight. It could not have taken more than a minute.
And that had been hours ago.
Esma had tried to sweep up some of the dust and debris that covered the first floor now, but Nadide had stopped her. Ozal would be home soon. He would want to see firsthand. Until then, she could stare at the destruction and think about what might have been if only she had been quicker to realize she could do more now to help Ahmad than plead in vain with those men. What might have been if her secret hadn’t weighed so heavily on her and slowed her down.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Nadide turned towards the doorway, eyeing it curiously. The door had been ripped off its hinges. Knocking on the frame was only making a mockery of courtesy. Who could it possibly be?
She stood up slowly and began to walk towards the entrance when the answer stopped her in her tracks. Savaner kishah stood before her and gave her a low, courteous bow.
Nadide could not believe it. She did not want to believe it. For a minute, she thought she might scream at this man, lay all the curses she knew at his feet, but she bit her tongue -- and that when she saw the unconscious figure being carried by a man standing next to the kishah. Then it felt like the scream had been ripped from her throat.
Ozal. Again. Nadide's knees went weak and she collapsed on the ground. All of a sudden, it was three months ago and she was powerless and alone, the last member of her family here in Kadehir on the brink of death, and her world crumbling around her.
“He was found like this in the Inner Sanctum, janum,” the man carrying Ozal said. A young man, probably a soldier. He appeared genuinely concerned.
Nadide stared at him for a moment, trying to rearrange the pieces of the world back into a whole that made sense. Memories returned to her slowly. She remembered her brother being cured once before. She remembered meeting Ahmad. And she remembered asking him to teach her magic -- teach her in case the man who had cursed her brother decided to try it again. Now that man had done exactly that, and he stood in front of her, with an expression carefully arranged to suggest sincerity.
“Esma, Kadim, see that my brother is taken to his quarters,” Nadide ordered. She stood up slowly, shakily. "I will join you in a minute." Her voice was hoarse. Even she could not tell if grief or anger clouded her words more. It didn’t matter. The soldier, the Mucevhed and her maidservant all walked past her, leaving Nadide and Savaner alone in the great room.
Not alone, she corrected herself. Perhaps he would be proud that she had missed him initially. Mahir had always seemed to desire to fade into the background. Now he just stared at her, unseeing.
He was wearing a collar -- a real one, not at all like the pretend one he’d been wearing before. Magic crackled in it, strong enough that Nadide was surprised it had not yet turned the leather white. She thought of the waves that had lapped at her ankles as the ocean had delivered to her the body of Savaner kishah’s last Mucevhed. Was this the collar the boy had been wearing before --?
“I was the one who directed that your brother be brought here. I admit I thought you would have more to say.”
Savaner kishah was speaking to her. Nadide fought to curl her lip.
“I see you managed the spell without nearly killing your Mucevhed this time.”
Perhaps she imagined it, but she thought she saw Savaner kishah flinch. Good.
His eyes darted towards the stairs, making sure that the others really had gone. No one he cared about would overhear this conversation. “The fight with the desert magician was -- illuminating, in certain ways.” He fidgeted. Nadide wondered which bothered him more, the admission of guilt or the indirect praise for Ahmad.
“Where is Ahmad bajedi?” she asked.
There was a satisfied tone in Savaner kishah's voice as he answered, “I have been told that he will be delivered to justice by none other than the Sheikh of Magicians himself.”
“Delivered to justice,” Nadide repeated in disbelief. Coming from Savaner kishah’s mouth, the words sounded worse than mockery. They were almost indecent. He had started to smile.
“Are you surprised to learn that the man you trusted, the man your brother let live under his roof, is actually a thief?”
Nadide felt her palms itch. She could feel the magic of Kadehir around her. This man stood in front of her with such glib confidence. He had no idea what she could do. She could strike him down -- or at least she could try. Her shield had collapsed against the brunt of his magic before, but this time she had the element of surprise. She had been slow to move even earlier today, but this time would be different, this time she could --
She could make Savaner kishah a martyr.
Nadide forced herself to take a deep, rattling breath. She could try to strike him down, and she might succeed. But if he died here today, he would still die a hero. No one would know about the lives he had destroyed.
She could get her revenge. She longed for it. But she had also been carrying the weight of the truth alone for so long. And in that moment, she realized that there was a way for her to free herself from that burden. She just needed to play her part.
Nadide slumped her shoulders in defeat. “You’re the only one who can lift the curse on Ozal. You got your Mucevhed back from Ahmad. You’ve gotten everything you wanted.”
It was a stiled performance, but she trusted that the kishah would see only what he wanted to see.
“Ah, janum, you are cold-hearted to say such a thing,” Savaner replied, with mock injury. He sounded pleased. He’d come expecting a broken woman; Nadide was finally providing that for him.
“There is something you want that you haven’t gotten just yet, though.” Her voice turned cold. She could see a flicker of apprehension in his eyes, but he smothered it behind a flat smile.
“Is that so?”
“You’re a hero in Kadehir. But no matter how many battles you win, no matter how many friends flock to you in the Stand, I am sure that men still pause before they bring up your father in your presence.”
Savaner’s smile thinned dangerously. Most of the magicians of the Stand were the sons of magicians, who were in turn sons of magicians. They had all grown up in the shadows of the God-trees. Savaner kishah was the son of a butcher whose magical abilities were only discovered by chance later in life. The Stand had called it a joyous occasion. But Nadide knew how people talked. No doubt there were times Savaner kishah had wished for a more ordinary path.
"I have heard your brother can trace his lineage back to the founders of Kadehir," the kishah noted, any emotion in his voice carefully contained. "It did little to help him."
"No," Nadide agreed. "But no one ever wondered at his place in the Stand."
Her brother had never noticed that. He’d grown up with the understanding that he would join the Stand; Nadide had grown up with the understanding that she never would. It made it easier for her to see the greed in Savaner kishah’s eyes now.
There had to be a reason he had come back here. It was obviously not out of concern for Ozal. Nor was it like the last time he had visited, when he had come searching for information. He knew everything he needed to know now. No, there was something else he wanted.
That something appeared to be Nadide.
She swallowed heavily. The next words felt heavy on her tongue -- they did not want to leave her mouth. "I am sure you desire sons one day. Sons who will have an easier time at the Stand than you did."
The corner of Savaner kishah's mouth quirked. Nadide knew she had guessed correctly. "Some of my friends have started to introduce me to their sisters or daughters."
Nadide's nostrils flared. “No doubt that is an honor they could have bestowed on you earlier, if they had so chosen.” He had meant the words to wound her; she could answer in kind. “I am sure you can wed any of those daughters of Kadehir. But none of them, Savaner, will know you as I do.”
Their eyes met and Nadide knew they had an understanding. Nausea threatened to overtake her, but there was an understanding. Savaner was making sure that there was no one left who could tell the world the truth about him. He had guaranteed Ahmad’s silence with his arrest and Mahir’s with that accursed collar; he’d purchased Ozal’s silence with a curse. But that still left Nadide. A curse might stop her too, but there were other ways too. A wife was supposed to obey her husband, after all. Marriage would bind the families together, tying Savaner’s fate with Nadide and Ozal’s. And there was an advantage to choosing this path: this way, Savaner kishah could marry into a family with a history his own lacked.
It was, for Savaner, an elegant solution, Nadide had to admit. The kishah did not need violence or magic to buy Nadide’s silence; Nadide’s silence would be her dowry gift.
“You have no relatives left here for me to confer with, so I have no choice but to tell you directly.” He began. Crisp. Impersonal. This was a transaction, after all. “I will make the arrangements -- we can be wed tomorrow. There is no point in delaying. Some may wonder why you are rushing to marry with everything else that has happened, but it will be a small ceremony. A quick affair.”
Not a proper wedding at all. But Nadide had not even wanted to get married, at least not yet, and never under circumstances like this. Compared to that, what did she care if the wedding was proper?
“Who will be present, then?” Nadide asked. She tried to dull the edge of her question. Let him think it was idle curiosity.
“The Imperial Magician, some other members of the Stand,” Savaner answered, in a voice that made it clear it was of no importance to him. If he noticed that the words seemed to please Nadide, he did not remark upon it.
But, of course, she could not say what it was that she really wanted. She had to pretend, instead. “And when it is over, do you swear that Ozal --”
“I swear to the Maiden herself that I will ensure the best care is available for my brother-in-law and his home.” He completed the words for her with a smile that bared all his teeth. Nadide fought a shudder.
"I will be ready by tomorrow morning," she forced herself to say. "Until then, I must check on my brother."
She could hardly stand another minute in the man’s company. But it had been enough. The trap was set. Savaner nodded, made to take his leave.
“One last question,” she called out to his retreating form. Her tongue felt tangled in her mouth as she prepared her last question. “I know it is customary for the magicians to marry below the God-trees. And you pledged your service to the Maiden. So will be married under her boughs?”
The kishah seemed surprised by the question but not, to her relief, suspicious. “Of course,” he answered before turning once again to leave. Mahir trailed silently behind him. Nadide was truly alone now, standing among the wreckage of her home, with her breath coming in shallow gasps.
It was easy. It was so easy. That was the difference.
Savaner kishah was deep in discussion about something with the Imperial Magician. A wedding, Mahir thought distantly; it was important that he remember at least enough details to stop himself from looking foolish later. Otherwise, he was to remain silent. Attentive but unobtrusive.
His thoughts were a haze, but he knew that at least. More than knew. He wanted -- wanted desperately to serve his master well and to be quiet. And he was good at it! It was a nice feeling, to know that he was doing what he wanted and doing it well.
"She wants a proper Stand wedding, in the Inner Sanctum," he heard his master say.
The Imperial Magician frowned. "A proper Stand wedding lasts three days. It takes months to plan --"
"You think she wants the burden of all that? She's half out of her mind with grief. And who can blame her, after everything the Vaspahanians had done to her brother before --"
There was a disgust in his voice that, to Mahir, meant the matter was settled. But still the Imperial Magician did not seem convinced. “I know you are worried about this family, but I wish you worried more about the Vaspahanians. Their fleet was destroyed. They are due to arrive any day now to formally sue for peace. How could they have breached our defenses and poisoned one of our own again?"
Mahir started to frown. This man was not giving his master the deference he was due. That wasn’t right. Was there something Mahir should be doing to set it right?
His master just shook his head. "You worry too much, Tolga. The Vaspahanians have been defeated. Whatever happened to Ozal now, I don’t think it is the same poison as before. I am sure that in no time he'll be back on his feet and able to explain exactly what happened to him now. And in the meantime, we can at least help his poor sister have some measure of solace."
"I hope you're right," the Imperial Magician sighed, but he appeared to be a little more at ease now. “I wish the circumstances could be better, but I will be happy to see you married tomorrow. And to a family with such pedigree! Imagine the future of your magic that your sons will create.”
Mahir watched his master nod with satisfaction. He’d gotten what he had wanted. He hadn’t needed Mahir at all. What an absurd thought it had been -- he wasn’t sure why it had ever occurred to him that he might need to say something. Better just to stay quiet and do what was asked of him.
He was aware, in a general way, that when they’d first put this new collar on him that he had resisted. He had been concerned about a spell. But he couldn’t remember the specifics. Perhaps that was the spell’s doing. But he wondered why he had ever fought against it. It didn’t seem so bad.
Things were easier this way.
