First Apprentice

Chapter 12 Part 3

"Wait until I finish assembling the ward," Diane said as she set the stone on the floor. She turned back to the trunk. "There are three types of chiefs: ones who smile in your face while handing you a glass of poisoned wine, ones born with gilded tongues and easy smiles, and the one who insults everyone then props his muddy feet on the freshly signed treaty. The latter don't live long unless they're insane, magically powerful, and have enough blackmail and/or hostages to make their enemies think twice. Unfortunately for you, Terry's the third. Mitchel's the second type. He's all honeyed words and kind smiles until he slides a blade under your ribs."

An accurate assessment.

"As for Manfred and the lady," Diane pressed a finger to my lips. "Do not utter her name without leave from Terry. I do not know what types they were. The histories have conflicting views." She hefted another stone out of the trunk and set it about shoulder width apart from the other.

"Now, you will listen and learn, or you will die."

"You have limited experience around other daes. Don't glare at me, child. It's true. Mitchel's kept you wrapped in cotton wool far longer than is wise. Maybe he had good reasons. I neither know nor care. The point remains you're inexperienced. I highly doubt you've seen any of them at their worst. Mitchel always was one of our more civilized members. Your lady mother may have a fearsome reputation, but she turned into a damn pacifist after the first war."

A third stone thumped against the floor. "One more," she muttered, turning back to the trunk. "Had Terry pulled a stunt like that with my child or Natalie's, we would do everything in our power to strangle him with his own entrails. With that pretty knife of yours still in his chest, we probably could. David's either incapable of obeying his instincts or deaf and blind. Joel is," Diane paused and pursed her lips, "unique. As a rule, insanity and magical strength go hand in hand. He's both sane and still has lines he won't cross. The rest of us can't claim that."

Her chest heaved as she placed the final stone on the floor. "Stand inside the square. On my mark, activate the seal."

I rolled to my feet. As I entered the square, my ankle hung on an invisible barrier. I glanced at Diane.

Head tilted, she studied my foot. "Your magic's already fighting the seal."

"Because yours lingers in it," I said.

She bowed up. "My purification techniques are second to none."

"They are also inherently limited by their power arrays, as most current seals are."

Diane grimaced. "True. Step out before you slag my diagnostic stones."

I shrugged and returned to the bed, keeping my body between Diane and my dagger as best I could.

"How attached are you to this tunic?" she asked when I sat down.

"Not very."

Diane's fingernails blurred as she shifted them into claws. She pried the fabric off my skin and cut the shoulder seam. Then she slit the other from shoulder to wrist. The tunic slipped off my shoulders and pooled around my waist.

"Looks like things got more than a little out of hand," she murmured, prodding the knot on my side.

I flinched when she pushed magic into my injured ribs. "Sorry," I whispered, "he was just," I paused as I searched for way to describe Terry's horrid personality without offending Diane.

"A bastard? A misbegotten son of a cockatrice? A chauvinistic ass? Terry either underestimated you or overestimated himself. Knowing him, both. He paid for his arrogance in blood. Don't apologize for it," Diane said sharply. Suddenly, I could picture her commanding an army, not just waiting with the healers at the rear. "It's high time someone reminded Terry that he's neither immortal nor infallible. Unfortunately, stabbing him won't make the other Seven approve of you, even though you did fulfill quite a few day dreams."

"Does it matter if the others approve?" Grandfather implied many things. The Seven ruled as a council. They obeyed the strongest. They only followed orders during battle. All contradictory.

"Maybe," she said as she palpated my ribs. "In the old tongue, dae means demon. The Seven take that title and own it. If you can't do the same, you should resign immediately because you will not survive. If you want to thrive, not merely survive, I suggest you remember this. You are not a demon. You are the Demon. You own it. Be it. The cretins on the council cower at your feet or die. Do not tiptoe around them or act like their feelings matter. The Border Guard is not a democracy. The strongest rules. Period."

"I'm just an apprentice."

"So you say." Diane tapped my third stripe. "Understand this. The Seven will not welcome you. On paper, we hold ourselves above clan politics, but reality never matches paper. You are an unknown with no clan allegiances or supporters outside a handful of guardians, practically slaves, and Mitchel, who left behind a single ally for every thousand enemies. Even if Joel and Terry both support you, they are only two votes out of Seven. The others have Terry's replacement picked out. It's not you."

"Why are you talking like he's already dead?"

"Normally, when one mate dies, the other follows. Terry lost his mate Asha and newborn daughter within minutes of each other. Had the babe survived, he would have lived for her like David does for his boys. Terry doesn't have anyone tying him to this world anymore. All he has are the gates. It may be two years or fifty. The end is the same. Life bonds prevent aging. They don't make us immortal, merely immune to time.

"Without someone to share your life, even a partial sharing like Manfred and Mitchel have, your psyche will eventually break. When that happens, you will either suicide or become a guardian. Sometimes, I wonder if that's why Mitchel asked Terry to break his life bond. Maybe he finally realized that as much as he and Manfred care for each other, their mating bond will never be complete because Manfred's bond with the gates will always take precedent over Mitchel. Terry is balanced on the precipice and has been for centuries. He will fall. Be it next year or ten, it will happen."

"Joel hasn't."

Her bitter laugh echoed throughout the room. "Never use Joel as your measure for normal. That man will outlive us all." She stepped back. "Everything looks good. I assume you know self-healing."

When I nodded, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," she said. "With your magic, healing will always be difficult. Come find me after you arrive. I'll start you on some exercises, maybe teach you a few additional techniques. Given your development, you do need a balancer. I'll send you a few tins. Follow the instructions on the tin. If your magic spikes don't even out after a week, let me know and we'll try something else. As for the telepathic blocker, give this situation with Joel a week. If you think you need it after that, we'll work something out."

Author's Note: I added character data cards as follows: Mitchel - Prologue Part 1, Manfred - Prologue Part 2, and Alannah - Chapter 1 Part 1. These things are so fun to create! Plus, they really illustrate that while Alannah's good for her age, she's not a monster...yet.