"Just keep with the story. You’re going to the salt mines for three months. I can place you as a normal guard with the other Alturan soldiers. They’ll just assume you’re a new recruit. Keep your wits about you and you’ll do fine."
Ella couldn’t decide how to feel. Three months! She felt happy for Miro, becoming a soldier had always been his dream, but she couldn’t imagine being away from her brother for such a long time, with only Brandon for company.
She looked at his face; she could tell he was happy that he would be taking a sword into the field, even if it was largely ceremonial.
"Thank you," said Miro.
"Just see that I don’t regret it," the Blademaster said. "When you leave today, take your things with you. We won’t be seeing each other for quite a while.
"You won’t regret it. I promise."
Blademaster Rogan grunted and left.
Ella helped Miro gather his few possessions.
"What’s the Imperial Chorum? It’s like a big meeting of the houses isn’t it?"
"When something important is happening and requires a meeting of the High Lords, either the houses or the imperial house can call the Chorum. It’s held in Tingara, in the imperial capital, Seranthia. The Primate of the Assembly of Templars mediates."
"Why has this one been called?"
"No one knows."
"Do you have to go? Actually, don’t answer that."
He looked at her. "You know I do. If I had to leave the Pens then what would I do? When I’m a soldier and you’re an enchantress we’ll be able to move out of that tiny hut in the woods."
"I like Mallorin," Ella said indignantly.
"It’s not enough," Miro whispered. Ella held her breath. It was so seldom that he spoke like this. Sometimes she thought he’d buried his feelings so deeply that she’d never penetrate the wall he’d built himself.
"We’re happy, Miro, that’s the important thing isn’t it?"
"Happy?" Miro was pensive for a moment. "I’ll be happy when I’m a soldier and can hold my head high."
5
Perhaps having the skin boiled off your bones will help you remember. People, take note, even the High Elementalist can forget his duty. You think renewing a Lexicon is difficult? Try keeping Raj Petrya secure from our enemies.
— High Lord Apit Neffer at the trial of High Elementalist Popan Mimphet, 440 Y.E.
IT was the time of the rains.
The sky opened and water came out. The Sarsen grew dramatically high, its banks near bursting. It became impossible to move on the roads; only transport by ferry was possible.
"Tish-tassine," Ella spoke the rune, and feeble light glowed from the nightlamp. It barely provided enough light for her to see. Their old heatplate was little better; water took over an hour to boil. They’d run out of coal long ago.
Ella carefully spooned a measure of cherl into the mug, following it with hot water, filling the mug to the top. She added a dash of redspice to mask the fact she was rationing the cherl.
She walked carefully so as not to spill any. "Here you go, Uncle," she said.
Brandon was sitting on the porch, looking out at the rains. The sound was soothing and the air was warm.
"Thank you, lass," he said hoarsely, taking the mug.
"Careful or you’ll burn yourself," she cautioned.
He had a small sip. "It’s good. Aren’t you going to have some yourself?"
"No, Uncle, I’m fine. I had a few cups of wine with Amber, a friend from the Academy," she lied.
"That’s good," he said. "Make sure you don’t drink too much. A lady never lets too much wine go to her head." He broke off, coughing.
"Yes, Uncle."
Ella missed Miro terribly. It didn’t help that Amber kept bringing his name up, talking about him incessantly. He’d been gone for over a month. Didn’t Amber have anything better to talk about? Every time they studied together she’d ask Ella new questions about him.
Thinking about her studies made Ella frown. Over a year at the Academy and she still had to learn anything meaningful about enchantment. Amber told her she was being impatient; they were certainly learning, but Ella’s dreams of glowing swords and shimmering robes had yet to be realised.
"Is Miro still at the Pens?" Brandon said.
Ella sighed. "Miro’s on his way to Tingara, Uncle. He’s part of our delegation to the Imperial Chorum."
"The Emperor," Brandon growled. "Skylord scratch his name from the heavens."
"Uncle!"
Brandon said nothing more, gazing without seeing at the rain. Ella had rarely seen him in this mood.
"Uncle?" she ventured.
"Hmpf?"
"I need to ask you about something. I once heard the boys at the Pens saying some horrible things to Miro."
"It’s nothing the boy can’t handle, lass. He’s tough, that one. The Pens can be hard though, I have to say. I trained there briefly. Got into my own share of trouble, I did."
"The boys at the Pens said some things about my parents. I need to know. What really happened to them?"
"Hmpf."
For a long time he didn’t respond. They both sat in silence.