The man appeared unnerved but once again listened to his scarred companion. He nodded, then asked, ‘Where are you going?’
‘Heading back to Brighthelm.’
‘Your business is done?’
‘Yes.’
‘And who are you to the emperor—what service is it that you perform?’
‘Nothing of such importance,’ Kirin began, trying to deflect attention that he had any relationship with Loethar. ‘I am simply a man of letters,’ he added, starting to craft a lie but realising instantly it was an error as the Wikken leaned across from his horse and whispered again.
‘Good, we will ask you then to accompany us.’
‘What?’ Kirin exclaimed. ‘No, I cannot, I’m afraid. I am expected at Brighthelm.’
‘We will get you there.’
‘But why must I come with you?’
‘We could use your help as a man of letters.’ Sarcasm had crept through into the soldier’s tone.
Kirin shook his head. ‘I’m sorry but I am supposed to go—’
The man laughed. ‘These people we carry wield the magic of the Vested,’ he said, untroubled by sharing this information with the whole caravan of traders. ‘But my companion here is Wikken. He has “smelled you”, Kirin Felt. You too are Vested.’
So it was the scarred man who had assaulted his mind, Kirin realised.
‘Who is this woman you travel with?’ the soldier demanded.
Before Kirin could respond, Lily spoke up. ‘I am his wife.’
Kirin turned and stared at her, taking care not to betray his shock. What was she up to? Why would she take such a risk?
‘Are you Vested?’ the soldier asked her.
‘Yes.’
Kirin could not tolerate this. ‘This woman is—’
‘Both of you will join us then,’ the soldier said, waving a hand and urging his horse forward.
The merchant leader looked helplessly at Kirin and shrugged. He guided his horse to him. ‘You’d better go, Master Felt. I’m sorry but I suspect they mean no harm.’
‘Do you?’ Kirin glared and then softened. It wasn’t the trader’s fault. He nodded sheepishly. ‘My apologies, sir.’
‘None needed. Go safely with Lo.’
There was nothing for it but for Kirin and Lily to turn their horses and join the group of soldiers, who coalesced around them without crowding them.
‘What did you do that for?’ Kirin demanded of Lily in an urgent whisper, staring ahead.
‘I’m asking myself the same question,’ she replied and he could hear in her voice that she was not lying.
‘It was stupid, Lily. This feels dangerous. What about your brother?’
‘Don’t worry about him.’
Kirin stared at her. ‘I’m not, I’m worried about you!’
‘Well, don’t,’ she said, tartly. ‘So, you’re Vested?’
He nodded. ‘You heard I work for the emperor,’ and as he noticed her attractive face darken at his words, he added in the lowest of murmurs, ‘but not in the way that you think.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Not now,’ he said, shaking his head. He was surprised to realise that in the last few minutes of alarm, the dizziness had passed and he was at least feeling well again, if not safe. ‘I shall tell you more when we’re alone.’
She seemed to accept this. ‘Who’s that man with the scars?’
‘He’s Wikken. Did you understand what the soldier was saying?’
‘No.’
‘A Wikken is a seer of sorts, from the tribes. Apparently this one can “smell” magic. I have little experience with them—he’s only the second Wikken I’ve seen in my time. It was my impression they refuse to leave the Steppes.’
‘Well, he smelled you.’
‘Pointless, though, I have such little skill,’ Kirin lied.
‘Why’s his face like that?’
Kirin didn’t know the proper answer to that. He turned to the soldier riding nearby; now that the men knew Kirin wasn’t planning on being any trouble, they had given the newcomers a wide berth. Kirin had to beckon the man, whom he guessed was around his own age, to guide his horse closer. ‘Yes?’ the soldier asked, his expression quizzical.
Kirin drew make-believe lines against his cheek. ‘Can you tell us why he is scarred like that?’
The soldier smiled. ‘When anyone from the tribes shows genuine promise as a seer, he is cut each year from manhood. The wounds are packed with the ashes of our ancient dead, which we have kept for as long as our people have lived on the plains.’
‘Why?’ Kirin asked, intrigued in spite of his anxiety.
‘We believe that the Wikken will then carry the memories of our forefathers, so that he is enlightened by their knowledge and experiences.’
Kirin nodded, keeping his expression bland.
Lily was not so careful. ‘You mean those scars are filled with the remains of cremated people?’
The soldier grinned. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. The wounds heal and push the packing of the ashes outwards and that creates those magnificent scars,’ he said, awe in his voice. ‘They’re purple anyway but he stains them that deep violet.’
Kirin glanced Lily’s way and she seemed to grasp his unspoken warning. ‘How fascinating,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’
‘How many Wikken are in the Set?’ Kirin asked, his voice casual.
‘Shorgan is the only one now. There are only two living Wikken at present. The other is much older, far more powerful and remains on the plains.’
‘So Shorgan likes it here, does he?’ Kirin added, smiling, encouraging the man to spill as much information as possible.
‘I believe he does. Our emperor sets little store by the Wikken today. He is keen that we do not dwell too much on the old ways of mystery and magic.’
‘And yet he hunts down the Set’s Vested,’ Kirin commented.
The man shrugged. ‘For different reasons. He wants control of the magic but he doesn’t make a lot of use of it from what I’ve heard. It’s too bad; I think I take an interest in sorcery.’
‘How come?’
‘Because my grandfather is the other Wikken.’
‘I see. And you have no…?’ Kirin wasn’t sure how to phrase his question but the youngster understood.
He shook his head. ‘Nothing at all.’ He smiled. ‘I am all warrior,’ he declared, banging a fist to his chest.
Kirin was pleased to hear Lily give a soft laugh on cue. He was relieved she had grasped that they needed to be as little problem as possible to these people.
‘Why do they need my wife and myself?’ Kirin asked, taking his chance and trying to make the words my wife sound natural even though they caught slightly in his throat.
The man shook his head, made a face to say he had no idea. ‘Just interested, I imagine. These Vested are being transferred. I am guessing that Shorgan