Page 16 of Rogue Familiar

It gave him pause, it really did. At least, the sight put up the hairs on the back of his neck, if he didn’t actually hesitate. He who hesitates is lost, after all! Besides, his horse showed no concern and kept clip-clopping along. And, much as Jadren was accustomed to being a lost soul, he had far better reasons for it than a creepy-looking house full of psychics who could plumb his mind as easily as breathing.

He’d found it odd that the Hanneil lands were so unguarded as to make the border indistinguishable. The distinct disappearance of any other traffic had been the main clue that he’d crossed into Hanneil. Most houses guarded their borders in some way—with the salient exception of the cheerfully sitting ducks at House Phel—though they all conducted the enterprise according to the vagaries of the magic they practiced. Some guarded every fingertip of their borders, like the paranoid and megalomaniacal House Elal, and others set traps and triggers on the approaches to the house itself, like House El-Adrel.

House Hanneil didn’t sit on extensive lands, as their primary product lines didn’t depend on acreage and because they’d forfeited most of it to the neighboring High Houses as part of that agreement struck after the wars. Maybe these people could simply hear everyone coming, so they didn’t bother with going out to meet them. Probably they already knew everything about him.

Come to think of it, maybe this was a really bad idea. A guy with a head full of secrets shouldn’t dive into a pool of mind-readers. What had he been thinking?

Not clearly, that much was certain. Seliah, fucking up his brain as usual and as seemed to be her unique gift.

Well, he was thinking now and he was seriously rethinking this plan. Guiding his horse away from the treacherous path ahead, he turned around, kicking himself for stupidity.

He kicked himself mentally even harder when the about-face had him confronting a group of gray-cloaked wizards in individual elemental-powered chariots, emblazoned with the House Hanneil crest of a stylized human head radiating rays in red and black. The swords, knives, spears, and bows they carried showed exactly what their job was. A border guard, after all. How charming.

Jadren supposed he should be glad that Convocation law prevented Hanneil wizards from using their psychic abilities as an offensive weapon. Even he knew that much. The Convocation had learned a few things from the wars a millennia ago and one of those things was an enemy who could burn your brains out from the inside or simply convince you that you loved them and didn’t want to kill them had a distinct advantage in battle. House Hanneil had faced agreeing to those restrictions or being erased from existence by the combined might of the other High Houses, including El-Adrel. He’d be proud of his ancestors if he wasn’t certain in that moment that they’d be ashamed of their scion and his stupidity in walking into what was clearly a trap.

The guards regarded him with classic Hanneil impassivity and Jadren tried very hard to look innocuous, and think about nothing. Just because the guard-wizards—and they were all wizards, with black eyes boring holes in their inscrutable faces—were prohibited from using offensive psychic magic didn’t mean they couldn’t and wouldn’t use devastating psychic tricks of the defensive variety, if they could later prove self-defense to the Convocation.

And that would be if anyone cared to investigate his tragic disappearance. Unlikely, considering that no one knew where he was. It was only them out there. It wouldn’t even be his word against theirs. If they reduced him to a gibbering mess of slobbering mental jelly, he wouldn’t exactly be arguing his case before the Convocation Council.

Jadren had been lulled into a false complacency, skirting the protections set up by Hanneil’s neighbors and failing to consider what he might encounter close to the house itself. Certainly he hadn’t imagined he’d be so easily outflanked, though he should have, given the nature of Hanneil magic. Nothing to it but to brazen through.

“Hi,” he said jauntily. “Is this the road to Convocation Center? I may have accidentally turned left at Refoel.”

“Who are you, Wizard?” the point guard asked softly. “What is your affiliation? You wear no house insignia.”

That’s right, very deliberately so, he nearly said aloud. He really hated circular conversations. If he wanted them to know his affiliation, he’d be wearing that house’s crest, wouldn’t he? “I’m traveling undercover,” he confided. “I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you.” He tapped the hilt of Mr. Machete at his hip.

None of the guard wizards looked even remotely impressed. They probably weren’t high-caliber wizards, not ones assigned to low-level patrol duty like this, when the real gravy for the house was in thought-seeking, geas-imposing, riding herd on the oracle heads, and dark arts knew what else. He could probably take them with El-Adrel magic and the snicker-snack of Mr. Machete. But where would that leave him? A fugitive from the righteous anger of House Hanneil, that’s where. He already had the house of his birth chasing him; he didn’t need to add to his pursuers.

The lead wizard smiled with razor-thin lack of humor. “I doubt we have much to fear from a landless rogue wizard.” They jerked their head at a subordinate. “Drop him off the cliff, but keep the horse.” Wizard-black eyes landed on Mr. Machete, no doubt glowing with Gabriel’s moon magic to their wizard senses. “And the weapon. Probably stolen anyway.”

Better and better. Jadren danced the horse away. “Ah, let’s not be hasty. I have a message for Lady Hanneil.”

“Then why were you turning away from House Hanneil?”

An excellent question. “I suddenly recalled that I should have bathed at that little stream a ways back. Ditch the horsy stink. Make a good impression and all.”

The wizard looked sourly unconvinced. As well they should. Jadren was normally much better at lying than this. Were they putting some kind of truth-telling pressure on him? “What about your story of looking for Convocation Center and getting lost?” the wizard inquired silkily.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret,” Jadren said with a sly wink. “Anytime someone mentions turning left at Refoel, it’s a joke. Maybe you mind-wizards don’t get humor.” Judging by the group of grayly emotionless faces regarding him, that seemed a safe bet. “Anyway,” Jadren added with an expansive gesture, “I claim guest-rights on Hanneil lands. I seek an audience with Lady Hanneil and await her judgment on the particulars of my case.” He thought very hard on the truth of that, hoping they’d read it in him.

Several of the rearmost wizards shifted uneasily, the lead wizard looking flintily annoyed. Though no one had spoken, the lead glanced sharply at the wizard behind their shoulder. Mind-talking no doubt. Why had Jadren thought coming to Hanneil was a good idea? Oh, right—because the fair Seliah had scrambled his brains more effectively than any thought-seeker could.

“You can’t claim guest rights without a house affiliation,” the lead wizard pointed out in a tone that would’ve been smug if they’d added just a titch more energy. Instead they sounded pedantic, flicking their fingers at the lower-tier wizards. “Without a house, houseless wizard, you’re nothing more than trash to be taken out. You know that, which is why you attempted to evade us.”

Well, there was a conundrum. Trash, indeed. Jadren nearly informed them that he was a scion of House El-Adrel—however despised by the house of his birth—and they’d better not dare the wrath of that High House or his darling maman. Everyone feared Katica El-Adrel.

Seliah’s smirking face floated before him, complete with disparaging eyeroll. You’re really going to threaten to sic your mommy on them? she inquired sweetly. Might as well run home to her with your tail between your legs and turn belly-up, panting for the tortures she’ll inflict on you.

“It’s not like that,” he ground out, thoroughly annoyed with her.

“No?” the lead wizard asked coolly. Jadren realized they’d encircled him during his imaginary conversation with Seliah. He was more muddled in the head than he’d realized. Could it be the attenuation of the bond? If so, it might be affecting her even more. The stab of concern for her at least cleared his head somewhat. About time you pulled your head out of your ass, she commented drily. “Then what is it like, wizardling?” the guard asked.

Jadren opened his mouth to explain, then gaped at the knife protruding through his chest. It seemed to have appeared from nowhere—though vaguely he supposed it had been thrust through his back from behind. Then it was gone again, replaced by fountaining blood, which looked kind of pretty. At least it wasn’t gray. His horse shied and one of the guards looked at the mare, halting her with a mental command. Jadren hadn’t known the Hanneil wizards could psychically control animals like Ariel wizards could, though probably that came down to proprietary magic use rather than ability. And why was he thinking about that as the wizards pulled him off his horse, dumped him on the ground, and efficiently stripped him of his stuff?

“He’s carrying supplies with the House Phel sigil,” one of the wizard guards noted.

“House what?” another asked.

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