She smiled at the two rebels and rose.
“This is Joi and Gevalen,” Tyen told her.
“I remember Joi, but I’ve not had the honour of talking to Gevalen before,” she said. “Welcome. I am so glad you joined us.” She poured each a glass of water flavoured with tart little flowers and waved at another bench. “Sit. Relax. Did you find us easily?”
The pair sat down. “I got a little confused by the instructions,” Joi confessed. “But I suspect the messenger at the inn hadn’t memorised them correctly.”
Tyen settled next to Yira, watching the pair’s minds as she talked to them. This was his main task, now. Yira was all too aware that some rebels had stronger magical ability than hers. She wanted to know who could read her mind and who was likely to, whether by accident, habit or deliberately. Meeting with them in pairs or threes made it easier for Tyen to examine them. While his presence deterred most from attempting to read her mind, he still learned whether they would have attempted it if he hadn’t been there.
It surprised him how many would have. Most sorcerers were raised in societies where privacy, at least among their own or higher classes, was respected. Reading the minds of those of status was taboo in most worlds. In some, reading minds of anybody without consent was outlawed–as it had been in Liftre. But in the absence of any plainly stated rules or expectations, and in a situation of risk and fear, the rebels’ reluctance to break the taboos and rules of their upbringing had weakened.
It needed to. Hesitating to read minds could mean they missed a vital warning of attack. But they must also realise that reading other rebels’ minds could be as dangerous, especially if it meant secret locations and plans were revealed to the enemy.
Knowing who did understand or respect this had shrunk the pool of rebels Yira considered her most trusted, useful advisers and commanders. Her intention was to place each in charge of a group of less-powerful rebels. Any secret information she gave them could not spread further than necessary, and they could effectively keep watch for traitors among their charges.
Gevalen was frowning. “But where can you train anyone here? All the buildings are small, and nowhere is private.”
She smiled. “We have a place. Tyen will take you there. That is all I can tell you.”
Tyen nodded as the pair glanced at him. Not everything the city needed could be produced in its lush gardens. Supplies were brought to the city by merchants, many of whom were sorcerers and used the space between to speed the delivery. On the outskirts were warehouses where the goods were received and stored before being transported into the city. Yira had hired a few for the training sessions.
“Tyen has a few questions before you go,” Yira said.
The pair’s attention returned to him.
“Joi, you were with us when we took the families to safety.” Joi nodded. “Gevalen, you weren’t. Were you at the cavern when it was attacked?”
The young man paled and nodded. Tyen caught an echo of guilt and, interestingly, determination. Gevalen knew he had survived by being quick to flee, and he believed he shouldn’t feel bad when it was what they’d been told to do. Even so, he half expected censure for leaving.
“Did you get a good look at the allies?” Tyen asked.
Relieved at this angle of questioning, Gevalen thought back to the attack.
“A few, but not all.”
“But you recognised one of them.”
Gevalen’s gaze met Tyen’s as he realised his mind was being read. He quashed the anger that rose, acknowledging that the rebel leaders had to be more careful now.
“Yes. Keich. He’s a regular visitor to my home world.” His lip curled. “He’s part of the reason I’m here.”
Tyen nodded and turned to Joi. “Do you mind waiting in the garden at the front of the house?” He watched as the chatty rebel left. Tyen turned back to Gevalen. “Tell me everything.”
When the young man left some time later, Tyen and Yira sat in silence for a little while, thinking over what they had learned.
“So,” Yira said eventually. “Now we know a lot more about Keich. He sounds like such a charming man.”
Tyen did not smile at her sarcasm. “I wonder, though, how much those stories were embellished, or selected and shaped to fit the image he wants others to believe?”