Page 32 of Aubade Rising
Turning round and seeing me scared and flustered he rolls his eyes. “If I am the traitor, then I’m not being a good one. I would have let you get kidnapped at the King’s address.”
I release a long breath and try to regulate my breathing; instead of letting me get kidnapped, he murdered one of my attackers. My panic subsides but my chest aches with pressure. I’ve been in denial about the precariousness of my situation, fully dependent on the benevolence of the King. A man I angered as I left. Everything I own currently has been given to me as a result of my position on the Concord. This new position and the home that comes with it is temporary while I complete my research and the thought of losing another position shakes me. I can’t go through that again. As soon as I get home and solve this mess, I’m moving out of the palace and setting myself up independently.
Interrupting my train of thought, Eskar announces he’s going out to get us some food.
“While I’m gone, there’s a cupboard through there – go and change your hair ready for tomorrow.” He gestures to what I presume is one of the bedrooms.
“Cut it, colour it, I don’t care, just change it. Do something so if anyone is looking for us then they won’t immediately spot us in a crowd.” The implication of a repeat of the attack in Pentargon is a stark reminder of how serious the threat is against me.
“After that, leave everything you can here. We’re travelling much lighter from now on.”
I resign myself to an unpleasant evening. My hair is one of the features I’m quite attached to. I can hide behind the long, light gold strands like a curtain and the heavy weight of a ponytailgrounds me when I’m working.
“Trust me, Sage. This is my job.” He’s right, when he’s not being forced to torture suspected rebels, he’s a captain in the king’s guard. He leaves with a wink and an attempt at a reassuring smile.
I venture into the cupboard like he said, trying desperately not to notice the personal details in the room: a painting above the bed of a shaded woodland glen, the books beside it – all fiction, even the clothes spilling from the wardrobe.
The cupboard is a treasure trove of disguises, rows of hats, glasses and other accoutrements. I wonder how much use he’s actually made of any of these things and why he might feel he needs to hide in his hometown.
I select a small brick of dark dye and grab a pair of shears. After some time, my new inky black hair swings above my shoulders. Satisfied with the unfamiliar light breeze across the bottom of my neck, it feels pleasant to shake my new style back and forward, letting the shorter strands graze my skin as they pass. Looking in the mirror, I don’t recognise myself.
My stomach grumbles waiting for Eskar to return and the cupboards are bare so I turn to the book from Haelyn. It’s a slow read but I’m finally rewarded by a chapter on Aubades. I jump ahead to that section, doubting I’ll want to carry the whole book through the Haag: hopefully, Haelyn will forgive me.
The book details how Aubades used to fall into two categories. Some people could focus their magic into a thin beam that burns and others could build some sort of reflective shield that others’ magic couldn’t penetrate: both incredibly useful and powerful attitudes that have been lost to time.
Chapter 31
Thoroughly absorbed, Eskar’s return takes me by surprise. When the door opens, I flinch and drop the book to the floor. He looks different too: his hair is much shorter, face clean shaven. I don’t recognise him and clearly from the look on his face the feeling is mutual.
“Nice work.” He stares intently at me. I blush at the unexpected compliment before helping him unpack the food he’s carrying. It’s still hot – heat seeps through the brown paper.
“Anything of interest?” he gestures at Haelyn’s book as I start to eat the pasty, not bothering to find cutlery or a plate.
“Actually, yes. Did you know Aubades once had attitudes too?”
“No, I didn’t, but then… I guess it never occurred to me what anyone else’s attitudes were. Mine was enough to handle on its own.” There it is again, a trace of bitterness mixed with something I can’t place.
“Do you know anyone else’s attitudes at court?” I pause mid-bite.
“No, I don’t make a habit of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong; it’s very personal.” Conversation closed then, he opens his parcel and eats.After a few mouthfuls, he adds, “You should ask Dervla, though, when we get back; she knows what everybody’s is.”
“Hmm, maybe I will. In the meantime, I want to learn more about my magic. Perhaps I have a previously undiscovered attitude. Something that will make up for my limited capacity.”
He smirks a little at my statement and the usual irritation I feel at seeing that half-smile doesn’t materialise.
“How do you know if you have an attitude?” I ask.
“Nowadays, once you’ve mastered controlling your magic, the Gallos we call it, your attitude comes forward as the way your magic is most inclined to behave. Your attitude is central to your being; it’s as easy as breathing and requires pretty much none of your capacity. Attitudes are generally limitless.”
So, in theory he could torture thousands upon thousands of people. My stomach turns.
“So that’s another incentive for you to keep working on it then.” He must have heard from Dervla how I’m struggling with mastering the Gallos and he’s laughing at me. Strange, I didn’t realise they discussed me behind my back but I push that thought to one side for now. Huffing, I sag back into the sofa, my newly cut hair tickling my neck as it swings around. “I just can’t visualise it properly. Every time I create one strand perfectly, it slithers away as soon as I focus on creating the second.”
“Will it help to see mine?” He leans forward from the sofa opposite.
“I’ll try anything at this point.” He raises one of his eyebrows and his nostrils flare slightly, teasing me.
I roll my eyes at his insinuation; he laughs and sits back. A crease appears between his eyes as he centres himself. Taking a deep breath and moving his hands purposefully, he summons a pulsing, woven ball of magic through his palms and allows it to hover in front of his chest. It’s smaller than Dervla’s but from what I can tell the colour of the water is mostly the same.
