Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) (2 page)

Incondor laughed again, his handsome features marred by his usual expression of haughty contempt. ‘What a shame,’ he said. ‘The Wizard didn’t seem to like his flying
lesson.’

Kea was on her feet in a flash. ‘You filthy monster,’ she blazed. ‘You pushed him. I saw you.’

Incondor shrugged. ‘I gave the earthbound slug a chance to see what it was like to fly,’ he drawled. ‘I knew his minions would catch him before he hit the ground –
it’s their function, after all.’

‘You tried to kill him! This time you’ve gone too far. I’m reporting this to Ardea.’

A scowl darkened Incondor’s face, and his eyes grew hard. ‘If you know what’s good for you, Kea, you’ll keep your mouth shut,’ he snarled. ‘It would be my
word against yours, and my friends will back me up. Do you think I fear Ardea? A mere teacher? A nobody? My family is closely related to Queen Pandion herself. Who is
she
going to believe?
One of her own blood, or you, a common harp maker’s apprentice whose grandmother was nothing but a lowly drudge?’ He turned away from her with a sneer.

‘Blood has nothing to do with it.’ Yinze scrambled up from his prone position. ‘Master Crombec says that Kea is the finest apprentice he has ever trained, and Ardea is the most
respected teacher in all Aerillia.’

‘Is that so?’ Incondor lifted an eyebrow. ‘She doesn’t seem to be making any progress with you. You’re about as much use at our magic as you are at flying.’
With that he and his friends flew off, leaving an echo of mocking laughter.

Yinze snarled a curse and drove his fist at the wall, but Kea, with the whip-fast reflexes of her kind, knocked his arm aside before it could hit. ‘Don’t,’ she said.
‘He’s not worth hurting yourself over.’

‘I wish I could hurt him.’ Yinze clenched his fists. ‘I’d like to kill him. I’m sick and tired of him making my life a misery. If it wasn’t for the
Archwizard, and those accursed restrictions he set on me, I would never have let things get this far.’

Before he had come to Aerillia, Yinze had been taken aside by Cyran and subjected to a long, tiresome lecture about his responsibilities as the sole representative of the Wizards among another
race of Magefolk. ‘You must keep a rein on your temper, Yinze,’ he’d said. ‘Though I am sending you to Aerillia because I feel you are the candidate most likely to succeed,
my one misgiving is your occasional tendency to be hot-headed. Make no mistake about the grave responsibility that rests on your shoulders. It has taken me a great deal of time and endless
discussions, debates and arguments to persuade the other Magefolk leaders to participate in my plan for disseminating our knowledge more widely. This project is of the utmost importance, both to me
personally, and, if my concerns are correct, to the entire future of the Magefolk at large. You must
not
, under any circumstances, place it in jeopardy by hasty words or inappropriate
actions. I am placing all my trust in you, Yinze. Do not let me down by any impetuous, ill-advised behaviour – or I will be most seriously displeased.’

For light-hearted, sociable Yinze, as quick to laugh as to anger, such sober behaviour did not come easily. For months now, he had been forced to suppress the natural peaks and troughs of his
emotions, always striving to stay on an even keel; well-mannered, polite, and circumspect in his speech. As far as Incondor and his friends were concerned, this mild behaviour had made him a very
obvious target. During most of his stay in Aerillia, Yinze had been the butt of endless bullying and nasty pranks – and every time he’d failed to defend himself, Incondor had pushed the
persecution to a more vicious level, culminating in tonight’s potentially deadly attack.

Matters were rapidly reaching the point where Yinze would be forced to defend himself, and then what would happen? It was true that Incondor was closely related to Queen Pandion – his
grandfather was the brother of her father. She was almost certain to take his word over that of an outsider and a newcomer. What if she sent him home in disgrace? What would Cyran say if Yinze
ruined this scheme that was so dear to his heart?

‘Yinze?’ Kea’s voice broke into his circling thoughts. ‘Are you all right?’ She looked so concerned that the Wizard forced himself to smile.

‘Of course I am. Don’t worry – it would take more than that arrogant pig to bother me.’

She gave him that odd, wry little smile of hers that told him she saw right through him. ‘You need to work on that lying, my friend, if you mean to make a habit of it.’ She clenched
her fists in frustration. ‘We should report the brute. Surely Ardea could make Queen Pandion believe us.’ She shuddered. ‘Thank all Creation Parea and your other bearers were
there.’

‘Yes.’ Yinze smiled at the bearers, who still stood in a protective group nearby. ‘Had it not been for you, I hate to think what might have happened.’

‘I’m pretty sure Incondor and his cronies would have caught you before you hit the ground,’ Parea said. ‘Not even a relative of Queen Pandion would dare go so far as the
killing of a foreign Mage.’

‘Probably not,’ Yinze agreed, glad that Parea had given him an excuse to make light of the situation. The last thing he wanted was for Kea to go tattling to Ardea about the incident.
‘Even Incondor would stop short of actual murder, wouldn’t he? Being related to the Queen wouldn’t help him if he was implicated in the death of a visiting delegate sent by the
Archwizard himself. Nonetheless, I’m more grateful to all of you than I can say.’

Parea grinned. ‘All in a day’s work. Besides, my sister would never have forgiven me if I’d let you fall.’ He glanced up at the darkening sky, and stretched out his
wings. ‘Well, if you don’t need us any more Yinze, we’ll be off for the night.’

‘Believe me, I don’t feel like going anywhere right now – apart from bed. Thank you, Parea. Thank you, Dunlin, Tinamou and Chukar. I’ll see you in the morning.’

When the bearers had gone, Kea tucked an arm through his. ‘It’s dreadfully cold tonight, and I’m sure you’ll be feeling it far more than I do. Shall we go inside, and
I’ll make you a hot drink?’ Despite the delicacy of her fine-boned features, she looked beautiful and bold, her hair blowing back in the strengthening wind, wearing her extraordinary
colours like a banner that said: ‘Here I am, world! Deal with me on my terms, or not at all.’ It had become the fashion among some of the younger generation to augment the traditional
shades of their elders, the browns, whites, blacks, greys and golds, and use magic to tint their hair and wings in a rainbow of hues. Most were content with flashes of brilliance, with streaks and
splashes of colour, but Kea had gone all the way, changing her hair and the backs of her wings into a medley of greens ranging from silvery sage to the vivid emerald of new leaves. The inner
surface of her wings was the glowing, red-gold of fire, so that when she opened them to fly, she looked as if she was bursting into flame. Though the traditionalists in Aerillia’s society
regarded her with frowning, purse-lipped dismay, her master Crombec simply smiled, and encouraged her to channel her creativity into the harps she made.

She was delightful to look at, and always good company, but Yinze shook his head. ‘Not tonight thanks, Kea. I really am very tired.’ Though he was very fond of her, and grateful that
she had cared enough about him to stand up to the bullies, he just wanted to be alone. Today Incondor had heaped further humiliation on him, in addition to that which he already felt over his
continued inability to perform even the simplest Air magic. He just wanted to be left to lick his wounds in peace.

‘All right,’ the winged girl replied, but there was a forced edge of cheerfulness in her voice, and he knew that he had hurt her.

Cursing his own clumsiness, Yinze took her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Kea. There’s no one I’d rather be with than you. But tonight I just need to be alone with my thoughts.
I’m no fit company for anyone just now. All my attempts at your magic have been such a failure, and I hate myself for being so useless.’ He couldn’t believe he had finally said it
out loud. She was the only person in Aerillia to whom he could confess such a thing.

‘I think you underestimate yourself.’ Kea kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, Yinze. You’ll work it out. I have every confidence in you.’ With that
she flew off to her own quarters, leaving him alone with the starlight blazing down through the frosty air.

The Wizard watched her launch herself across the void, then turned and went indoors, closing his door against the chill, for dark clouds had smothered the glowing western sky, and there was a
smell of snow in the air. Perhaps because he had been thinking so longingly of home his chambers, now so familiar, looked as strange as they had when he had first come here. The slightly curving
walls with their heavy, woollen hangings to help conserve the heat and the tall, wide doorways that were designed to accommodate the folded wings of the usual inhabitants seemed alien to him, and
he felt rootless and lost, and very far from home. The spindly furnishings were, for the most part, crafted of exquisite wrought iron, which was far easier than wood to obtain in these mineral-rich
mountains, so high above the treeline. They were sparse and close to the wall, allowing plenty of turning space in the centre of the chamber for the sweeping Skyfolk wings. Also because of the
wings, the braziers that heated the rooms were tucked safely away in the corners, and there was little clutter that could be knocked over or down. Any loose items were stored away in deep wall
niches concealed behind the hangings. The chairs were backless stools, with cushioned seats of padded leather or wool, on which the natives of Aerillia could perch for hours with every appearance
of comfort – unlike Yinze, who had been forced to purchase some of the rare, expensive wood and make a chair of his own, with arms and a back to support his aching spine.

Yinze lit the lamps, added more charcoal to the brazier that heated the room, and sat as close to it as he dared until the shivering had subsided a little, and he could shed his outer layers of
clothing. Suddenly he regretted sending Kea away, and almost went after her, but he didn’t want to risk running into Incondor and his cronies again. If he were to encounter them now, he might
just forget Cyran’s restrictions, he thought grimly. How immensely satisfying it would be to pulverise those too-handsome features beyond all recognition. By pushing him off the ledge, the
bullies had given him a real scare. His face burned with humiliation as he remembered how he had screamed as he fell, and disgraced himself by throwing up after he was rescued. He must have looked
like a pathetic fool. But worse than Incondor’s actions had been his words about the Wizard’s failure to master Air magic, which had lodged in Yinze’s mind like a poisoned
dagger.

There was no defence against the truth.

Right now, what he really wanted was a glass of wine – or something stronger. But brewed, distilled and fermented drinks were forbidden, and for the most part unwanted, among the Skyfolk.
Flying required skill, precision and razor-sharp reflexes, because the slightest misjudgement could mean death. There was no place for fuddled wits in the sky.

In every society, however, there were always rebels. Yinze had not been in Aerillia for very long when he first heard the rumours that there was covert use of the prohibited drug by some of the
younger generation of the Skyfolk, and it had not been long before he discovered the truth of them for himself. Incondor, who had initially been very friendly and welcoming, had approached him
covertly and asked him if, on his return to Tyrineld, he would be willing to provide a smuggled supply of wine and spirits. ‘We have many things of value here in these mountains,’ the
young aristocrat had urged. ‘Jewels, gold, furs . . . I could make you very wealthy.’

Yinze, with Cyran’s warnings ringing through his mind, had refused to become involved in such a scheme, and Incondor’s animosity had originated from that rebuttal. From that day
onwards the bullying had begun, and it had continued, and escalated, ever since.

So his goblet of wine was out of the question, but the Wizard suspected that it was just as well. He felt a gnawing in his stomach; partly strain and anxiety, but partly hunger. The meal he had
eaten earlier with Ardea’s other students was gone. It was a long time until breakfast, and he craved the comfort of something warm in his belly. He went to the door that led into the small
kitchen and his housekeeper’s quarters, and called, ‘Kereru, are you there?’

‘And where else would I be on a cold night like this, with a blizzard in the offing?’

She was plump for one of the Winged folk, and her grey hair and wings had a sheen of iridescence in the lamplight. Her kindly smile was, as always, a balm for his wounded feelings.
‘Kereru, I—’

‘I have some soup ready,’ she interrupted. ‘It’ll be just what you need – considering.’

‘You saw?’

‘Out of the window.’ She frowned. ‘You mark my words, one of these days that boy is going to come to a bad end.’

‘The sooner the better, if you ask me,’ Yinze said ruefully. ‘Oh,’ he suddenly remembered. ‘I’m sorry, Kereru, I never cleared up the mess I made on the
platform.’

‘Don’t you worry about that now. The storm will scour it all away.’ She smiled at him. ‘Aerillia housekeeping at its best – oh, and while I remember, Parea found
your woollen hat for you. I know how attached you are to it.’

She took the damp purple cap from her pocket and laid it on the table, then went off to fetch his soup, reappearing moments later bearing a tray loaded with a steaming bowl, a plate of bread and
the delicious sheep-milk cheese made by the Skyfolk, and a pot of fragrant liafa, a bitter, stimulating drink made from berries, that was the Aerillian equivalent of taillin.

Not for the first time, Yinze thanked providence that Kereru had been allotted to him. She always had a way of making him feel better. He thanked her with a smile. ‘I think I’ll have
to take you back with me to Tyrineld,’ he told her.

The smile dropped from Kereru’s face. ‘Just to make me a servant in a different place? And what possible good would that do me? No, wait – I forgot. It wasn’t me you were
thinking of, was it?’