Archer's Sin (3 page)

“Have you guessed my father’s name?” asked Justien.

“Lerran,” said Nalica.

“Right you are.”

It was a funny thing. A decade ago, if Justien and Nalica, the son and daughter of rival clan lords, had been caught together, it would have been scandalous. But nobody cared anymore. The clans had scattered to the winds. Yvar was an old man, crippled by joint pain, and Lerran was dead.

“Tell me your history,” said Justien. “How did you become a war mage?”

“My father had no sons,” said Nalica. “We had the riftstone, which had been my grandfather’s. When Yvar came to understand that there would be no male issue, he talked of selling it. We’d sold off most of our stock years ago, and money was tight.”

Justien nodded. “My clan sold its stock too.”

“My mother convinced him to give the topaz to me instead,” said Nalica. “She said it was my right to have it, since I was his heir. We barely had the money to pay for my training—in fact I’m pretty sure my mother borrowed most of it. I hope to pay her back someday.”

“So you became a war mage.”

“The idea was that if I had war magic, I’d always be able to find work, even if the clan fell apart. Which it did.” How ironic, that her family had once believed a war mage would always be employable.

“What have you done since then?” Justien asked.

“After we sold off the herds, my father organized what was left of the clan into a mercenary troop. We hired on to guard unpopular lords, escort caravans, sometimes fight on one side or the other of a skirmish.”

His brows rose. “You became a mercenary.”

She nodded. “For the last several years, since Yvar was too infirm, I’ve been the leader of the troop. But there’s not enough work for mercenaries anymore. The emperor has thrown out the unpopular lords, and he sends his battalions in to quiet the skirmishes. We’re simply not needed the way we used to be. And there’s not enough money in guarding caravans.”

“You’re right about that,” said Justien, rolling his eyes.

“What about you? You left earlier than I.”

Justien nodded. “Around the time we sold off the stock. My father died in a duel. It wasn’t with anyone of your clan.”

“I heard about it.” Her family had celebrated when they’d heard the news, but now she felt a little embarrassed about that.

“All our best people were leaving to look for work. My mother had no money, and she had my younger brother and sister to support. So I trained at the palaestra and joined the imperial army as a prefect. The pay was steady, and I sent my salary home. When the emperor disbanded Red Eagle battalion, I found myself out of work. I looked for another spot, but nothing was available. Since then I’ve scraped by the way you have: odd jobs, escorting caravans.”

“You still send money home?”

“When I can.”

Now she felt guilty. He needed the job as much as she did, arguably more so since he was supporting his extended family. She only needed to pay her own way and repay the debt to her mother.

No, she could not afford to think like this. She was more qualified; at least, she hoped the tournament would demonstrate that. She could not feel sympathy for Justien. He might have a family to support, but he was a man. He probably got ten times as many job offers as she did. And clearly he had more money, if he could afford to eat at the festival and she couldn’t.

Why had she let him pay her way? To lead him on was absolute foolishness. She fished some quintetrals out of her coin pouch. “Here,” she said, placing them on the seat next to him and standing. “Thank you for lunch.”

He stared at the coins. “I said I was buying.”

“I pay my own way.”

His brow wrinkled, and his eyes lifted to meet hers. “Did I offend you?”

“No. Please...it’s just...” She exhaled. “I don’t think we should get involved. Considering the circumstances.”

Justien spread his hands. “It’s just lunch.”

“I don’t think we should talk to each other anymore.” She turned and walked away.

***

“Archers, string your bows.”

Justien bent the bow and strung it effortlessly, even without his war magic. An official had come in turn to each competitor to take away their riftstones. Justien hated being without his riftstone. It was unpleasant to be separated from what was literally a fragment of his soul trapped within the stone. But it would not unduly affect his performance. He was confident of his ability to shoot without magic.

Many war mages ceased to drill and practice after soulcasting, instead depending entirely on magic for their battlefield prowess. And that magic was substantial; to a large extent they could get away with it. Even so, Justien was not that sort of war mage. He kept his physical skills sharp.

He looked down the line of his competitors, some to his left and some to his right. Caellus was struggling to string his bow. Typical; he was one of the lazy ones. Another man, whom Justien had never met, couldn’t string his at all. He would be eliminated. The others had all managed to string their bows, including Nalica three places from his right. Good for her. It didn’t surprise him terribly; she looked strong, and he doubted she would put herself through a competition like this if she couldn’t accomplish this basic task.

He wished he’d watched her string it.

To the left of the archery field was a short wooden fence, about the height of his waist, and behind it stood the spectators. The tournament had attracted several hundred festivalgoers. To the right of the field was a raised platform with seating for about twenty people. The three judges were up there, along with some officials responsible for administering the tournament. About half the seats on the platform were empty. It was rumored that the emperor and empress might observe the final round of the competition, and he guessed those empty seats were being held in reserve for them.

For this magic-free round of competition, they would shoot butts at one hundred yards. At home, he’d used wooden casks for the purpose, but in southern Kjall, the butts were mounds of grass-covered earth, each about seven feet tall and four feet wide. A soft wooden staff about two inches wide leaned against the front of each butt. This was called the wand. The archer’s goal was to split the wand, which required both power and incredible accuracy. If the arrow struck the butt, it was a hit; if it missed entirely, it was a sin. But if the archer split the wand, that earned the most points of all.

“Archers ready,” called an official from the platform.

Justien nocked his first arrow. He raised his arm as he drew back the string, engaging his back and shoulder muscles. He was right-eye dominant. When shooting, he faced to the right, toward the judges’ platform. The crowd had fallen silent. He narrowed the focus of his senses. There was nobody here at all, nobody but him and his bow and the wand, one hundred yards away.

“Loose,” called the official.

Justien double-checked his position. He adjusted his draw a tiny bit and loosed the arrow. The crowd cheered.

He had a hit! His arrow had landed on the butt, a little high and a little to the right of the wand. He’d correct for that and get it eventually.

How had his competitors done? Caellus had a hit too—he was in better form than usual. Perhaps he’d practiced. Nalica’s arrow was on the butt too, a bit low. Of the other competitors, roughly half had hits and the rest of them sins.

Nalica appeared to be left-eye dominant, since she was facing his direction, toward the crowd instead of the judges’ stand. He caught her eye and smiled a silent congratulations.

She looked away without smiling back.

“Archers ready,” called the official.

He slid another arrow from the stand, nocked it, and lifted his bow, tuning out the crowd and his competitors. The official called for them to loose, but Justien took an extra moment to fine-tune his aim.

A roar rose from the crowd. He hadn’t loosed yet, and the unexpected noise nearly startled him into sending his arrow on a wild flight. He held his arrow in check and scanned the butts. Someone had split the wand. Who was it? There, he saw it: the wand impaled on the grassy surface, pinned by the arrow. It was truly split, with half of it dangling toward the ground. Had Nalica’s arrow done that? That was her target.

He glanced at Nalica and saw her raising a triumphant fist in the air.

Fierce anger stole over him. She’d made a lucky shot, nothing more. She was strong, and she had good form, but he would not let her steal this tournament from him.

The crowd fell silent, and he realized he was the only archer who hadn’t loosed. Now, unfortunately, he was nervous. He aimed carefully and checked his form. Body turned just right, good stance, hand pulled back to his cheek, fingers relaxed.

He loosed the arrow and watched its flight. It landed on the butt, a little low.

The crowd applauded politely.

Suppressing a scowl, he turned away from Nalica, who surely taunted him with her eyes, and pulled the next arrow from the stand. They had six to shoot in all. He would split the wand this time. He’d split it twice to make sure he beat her.

His third arrow didn’t split the wand, but landed right next to it. A little closer each time—he’d get there. He glanced at Nalica’s target and saw that her arrow had landed on the edge of the butt. She’d nearly missed. The other competitors didn’t worry him. Caellus was shooting better than usual and had all three arrows on the butt. Everyone else had at least one sin. Caellus had a good day once in a while, but Justien knew he couldn’t sustain it over three days of competition.

Nalica, on the other hand, appeared to be a serious threat. He couldn’t let her beat him, not with that city guard job on the line. He took up his next arrow and prepared to put it down the middle of the wand.

“Loose.”

He loosed. He watched his arrow’s flight, and when it sliced through the wand, sending a broken shard of wood spinning through the air, he leapt up with a shout of triumph. The crowd roared their approval. He’d done it!

He turned to see how Nalica had fared this time. She’d only just loosed her arrow. He followed its flight and watched in horror as it buried itself in the fresh wand the officials had laid upon her target. The crowd cheered louder than ever. Two competitors had split the wand in a single round—this was unprecedented.

Justien frowned. He was not at all happy to be sharing the honor, especially since this was Nalica’s second wand in the competition, and only his first. What use was splitting the wand if his competitor did the same? She was still ahead of him in points.

“Archers ready.”

Justien’s final two shots were disappointing, both hits but nowhere near the wand. Nalica had flustered him. Fortunately, Nalica did not split the wand a third time, but, like him, she landed her final two shots, and with four hits and two wands, she’d won the round. Justien was in second place with five hits and one wand, and Caellus was in third with six hits.

The crowd cheered. Justien knew most of the cheers were for Nalica. He’d split the wand, but she’d done it twice. In the spectators’ eyes, that made her twice as good.

There was no awards ceremony, since this was only the first round of competition. The crowd drifted away to seek other entertainments. The official who’d taken their riftstones returned and handed the stones back to the competitors. Though the stones looked similar, each war mage could easily pick out his own. A mage of any kind could sense his riftstone through the fragment of his soul that was embedded in it. As the competitors draped their riftstones around their necks, the captain of the city guard, Felix Hadrianus, came forward to congratulate them. He spoke first with Caellus. Then he came to Justien and clasped his wrist. “Excellent shooting.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Justien, inclining his head. If he won the competition, he’d be working for this man.

“And with no magic,” added Felix. “I can see you’d be a fine addition to the guard.”

“I hope to prove that to you,” said Justien.

The captain moved on to Nalica. “What a show you gave us! That was a piece of luck, splitting the wand twice.”

Justien watched her out of the corner of his eye. If she’d split the wand once, that might have been luck. But twice? That was skill. Would she dare correct the captain, given that he was judging the contest?

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

Apparently she wouldn’t. Well, he wouldn’t have done it either. But that had to rankle, having her feat of skill attributed to luck. He waited to hear the captain say she’d be a fine addition to the guard, but after clasping her wrist, he simply walked away.

In response, she looked almost impassive, but a tiny line appeared in her forehead, an indication of worry perhaps, or hurt feelings.

His resentment faded, and he began to feel a little sorry for her. It must be hard being a woman and a war mage, and having even her extraordinary accomplishments minimized. But pity was a luxury he could not afford. He needed this job, and he was going to have to shoot better tomorrow and the next day. Her problems were her own to solve, and he had a family to support.

“That was good shooting,” said Caellus as he passed, clapping Justien on the shoulder. “Too bad you couldn’t outperform the girl.”

“I’ll grant that you were less terrible than usual,” said Justien.

Caellus snorted and strode off with his bow on his back.

Justien met Nalica’s eyes. It was considered good form to congratulate one’s opponent, but envy choked his throat. He managed a curt nod in her direction and walked away.

3
Sage’s Day

It was lonely being a woman and a war mage. Nalica had enjoyed her triumph last night, but she’d been the only one to celebrate it. Justien, on the other hand, seemed to have an easy camaraderie with the other archers. She envied that, knowing it was something she’d likely never possess. She tried to make friends, but most men simply didn’t accept her. They fell into two categories: those who avoided her because they didn’t know how to act around a woman like her, and those who actively harassed her.