“You havenothingto apologize for,” she said fiercely, looking into his eyes. He returned her gaze with a soft smile before he looked back at Danras and continued speaking.
“My body became weaker and weaker ever since I was a child. By the time we began treatment, I couldn’t walk. But though it may be immodest to say so, I was fairly clever, and picked up foreign tongues with ease. So, I swiftly moved up the ranks and became an inquisitor. And my body does not create many problems in practice. With Fractica by my side, I am much stronger than most men, am I not?”
“You are.” Yuma had seen him do things in that frame that none of the herders could do. “In our country—well, in any other country I know—someone with such a body… with such discomfort… would not live long.”
“The Empire does not waste talent. It helps talent thrive.” There was a pride and determination in his voice that she had not heard in him before. Perhaps sensing that her gaze was still on him, he turned from Danras back to Yuma and said, “That man with the blue face… Aidan, came to see me.”
“What he must have said to you behind my back…” Yuma frowned. “Don’t worry. As long as I am alive, I shall not take you to the Grim King.”
“That is not why he wanted to see me.” Lysandros’s voice turned serious. “He told me a bit about the sorcery of the Grim King.”
Yuma was surprised. “He’s rarely spoken of his time as anapprentice candidate to us. That’s how much he fears the Grim King. But—”
“If that is so, then Aidan is all the braver.” Lysandros’s gaze swept over the camp. “The Grim King is most notorious for great necromantic powers; the Empire has known of the Grim King’s abilities for years. But according to Aidan, that sorcerer can create a whole world, inside the mind. There is very little known about this sorcery even theoretically, but to learn of someone who can actually do it… No wonder the Grim King is feared.”
His hardened expression was making Yuma nervous. “Do you know much about sorcery?”
His beautiful smile came back as he turned to her. “Well, I am a sorcerer.”
This surprised Yuma. Danras had no sorcerers. Other than the Grim King, the only kind of sorcerers she knew of were the rhymesmiths of Iorca who made magical trinkets with poetry. Perhaps Lansisi life priests were also sorcerers, as their blessed water made crops grow and cured illnesses. But Lysandros was nothing like them—he didn’t wear outlandish clothes, nor did he speak in riddles. She had never seen him use any kind of sorcery.
She wondered for a moment whether the Host was a sorcerer, then decided against it. The Host had never been anyone’s apprentice. His wisdom, songs, and recipes came when the spirit of the Host entered the child. It was a sacred gift, only used for the good of the people of Danras. No sorcerer she knew was like that.
Lysandros gestured to Fractica. “The sorcerers of the Empire do not use things like spells, but make Power generators instead.Other forms of sorcery allow only one person to use Power, but anyone may tap into a Power generator.”
Yuma’s gaze followed his gesture to Fractica. “Can such a thing be used in Danras?”
“Of course. If Danras joins the Empire, the streets can be lit up without using flame or a drop of oil. Water can be drawn from the Trina and made clean enough for the people to drink. Grass can be harvested for the oroxen to eat.” He was growing more excited. “The Empire will change the world with Power. Even the Grim King can be defeated.”
Yuma was finally seeing the true Lysandros—the man’s pride and sense of mission were wrapped around him like armor over his metal frame. She didn’t reply, only smiled at him before they both looked back down on Danras.
After a silence, Fractica approached with the parts of Lysandros’s frame that he had removed to ride the horse. Lysandros took the metal parts and reattached them to his frame.
“I’ll walk back with Fractica. I need to conserve my strength for riding the horse tomorrow.”
Yuma nodded, and did not mount Aston herself, instead grabbing hold of his reins and joining Lysandros.
They talked all the way back, under the river of stars. Lysandros described his home, this time talking less about the majesty of the Empire and more about his simple life in it. Yuma shared her childhood stories, from on the steppe and in the city.
“You must miss your family and friends in the Imperial Capital,” Yuma said.
“I used to.”
His eyes met hers. Yuma felt her face flush. He then turned his head, making a shy smile.
Because they walked back, dinner was over by the time they arrived at camp. Yuma led Lysandros to his personal tent.
“You must be starving. I’ll have some food brought to you,” Yuma said, trying to shake a new awkwardness.
Lysandros tried to say something in return, but Yuma swiftly turned her back—there was only one thing she wanted to hear from him in this moment, and she didn’t want to risk the chance of hearing anything else.
She asked the kitchen carriage to send him some leftovers as she received hers. Some of the herders must have gathered currants common in this area, as she tasted their subtle tang in the Host’s usual fare of savory meat buns and pink pickled carrots. Yuma finished her dinner at the carriage and then went to sit among the herders singing songs around the fire, each of them holding up their drinks to her in welcome. The night grew deeper and the herders sang and danced. Yuma, not feeling like joining in, simply drank and clapped and smiled from where she sat.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what Lysandros had said to her as they looked down on Danras. This Empire was a place that gave this disabled man a chance, acknowledging and nurturing his talent. They said the Empire had no king, but surely its people were being well taken care of regardless of where that care came from.
In the nest of starlight, Lysandros had said the Chief Herder was the true king of Danras. His words had taken her breath away, as did the conviction with which he spoke them. For as long as anyone could remember, “king” in Mersehi meant only Eldred, and the word inspired nothing but fear. So why did the word make herheart beat faster, even now? Maybe it was the man, not the word, that made it so. She couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Across from where she sat, Aidan stood up and came over to her. He started talking, but Yuma was too deep in her thoughts to pay attention. She looked at him without hearing him, nodding along absentmindedly. He went on about the Grim King and some disaster that was sure to follow, but in the end, he must have figured out she wasn’t really listening. Finally, he sighed, shook his head, and went back to where he’d been sitting. All the while, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Lysandros might have said if she had only let him, when they parted at his tent.
