Along the narrow footpath that connected the courtyard in front of the Iron Palace to the temple of Grand Mage Rattar was a selection of broad-leaf evergreen trees and a rather quiet man in a long orange robe.
Aralim was on his way to visit Rattar and Miresh, or so he had told the Aura at the entrance of the Palace grounds, but he paused to speak with the Aura for a moment. To speak to… he thought, correcting his train of thought. The Aura didn’t generally speak back. “Could you deliver a message to the Emperor for me?”
This member of the Aura had Raderan olive skin and a half bald head. He bowed to Aralim as response.
“Could you ask the Emperor to nominate Vas’vir Athanu for a seat on the Second Court?” Aralim requested. “He’d understand the reasons why, I’m sure.”
The Aura glided away with a swish of dark orange linen and the Walker’s blue lantern staff tapped its way down the road of mosaic rocks to the arched entry to the meditation temple. Rattar sat on a small wooden stool in front of his ancient kapok tree, and Miresh sat on a big violet cushion in front of him. Most days, the hall was full of other magicians, there were more than a hundred in the city with ties to the Grand Mage. After all, Rattar was also a minister of an institute, not just a master wizard.
“Aralim,” Rattar said. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How are you?”
“Good,” Aralim replied.
“I’ve been exhausted since our secret mission, I must confess,” the mage said. He smiled, and Aralim couldn’t say if he was being honest or speaking in jest. “Miresh is beginning to learn about visions, but they are a very difficult thing to learn. We’ve been at it for a few weeks with no breakthrough yet.”
Miresh finally opened her eyes and looked at Aralim. “Soon, I hope,” she said quietly. “I’m supposed to be able to sense my Focus, but I don’t know anything about the knife. I don’t even know the knife is my Focus, but everyone says it is.”
“You can’t sense it because you haven’t sensed it yet,” Aralim suggested. “Everything I’ve heard about magic is that it hinges on familiarity and understanding.”
“He’s right,” Rattar said, but Miresh pouted and scratched her fingernail along her lantern staff.
“You’ll get it eventually,” Aralim said. He wasn’t worried for her, but he remembered her concerns on the subject kept growing.
Rattar nodded, then looked at the Walker. “You’re welcome to use the grove if you want to keep trying to make flowers grow,” he told Aralim.
“I’ll pass, but thank you.”
For a few moments, no one spoke. Aralim looked around the temple while Rattar continued reading from a book he had bookmarked. The meditation yard itself was floored by a grid pattern of small colourful tiles. A few were cracked, but most were intact—bright blues, dark greens, brown and beige. The roots of the kapok tree descended into soft soil where the tiles ended. Around the edge of the temple were weathered tapestries or bookshelves laden with scrolls and moth-nibbled tomes. Columns rose to support the slanted roof above, and on some were etched old, worn letterings—they appeared to be names, not words.
“So,” Aralim said, quietly. “How will Yakalaka’s disappearance affect the Courts?”
“Oh, I expect there to be a shuffle within the next week or two,” Rattar said. Miresh opened her eyes to listen. “Someone from the Second Court will be made foreign advisor, and one of the Selected from the Third Court will fill that seat. I suspect our new chief ambassador will be either Igrahm or Muria… maybe Soot, but he’s always been a controversial character.”
“And the spot on the Second Court will be filled by Mistress Athanu, I presume?” Aralim asked.
Rattar was still nodding from his own words but paused suddenly. He looked up slowly and blinked at Aralim. Then he bit his lip and looked down again. “Just because her father is on the First Court does not mean she will receive special treatment.”
“I thought she was the obvious choice.” Aralim blinked and put his weight onto his lantern staff. “She was the only member with the foresight to sponsor Miresh and I. I haven’t heard of any other significant decisions on the Third Court. Or is there a fear of the Athanu’s scheming together?”
Rattar shrugged and spread his arms. “But Athanu must compete with Aglo’s son, Ilnar, and his Ascendance’s own blood kin, Veyla Nagu, not to mention a dozen of the land’s most powerful magicians and wealthiest entrepreneurs.”
“You make it sound like a competition and not a simple decision about who has the best judgement, and who is the most useful,” Aralim said.
“Sadly, this isn’t the Path, Aralim,” Rattar said. “Merit will play a very small role in the decisions that unfold between now and next Moon.”
Aralim couldn’t have said it better himself and stifled a small chuckle. He didn’t let Rattar see any of his mirth of course; the Grand Mage would believe he had had the final word. But he was right—if Athanu joined the Second Court, it would be through schemes not merit. He shrugged and said, “I guess I don’t know much about it. I was just hoping Athanu’s favor for us would pay off for her.”
Rattar nodded. “That’s a good sentiment. I just hope she doesn’t ever try pressuring you or talking about a debt. Mistress Athanu is an intelligent and resourceful woman, but that can be a two-sided blade.”
“Well, thank you for your advice,” Aralim said. “I suspect I will encounter her on the Path again at some point, though.”
The book in Rattar’s hands split open once more and the old magician smiled. Aralim shrugged and started to walk away. He told Miresh he’d see her back at the estate, and she nodded without opening her eyes.