Chapter 7 Kasira #2
Allaster regarded her with thinly veiled contempt, but she held her tongue.
She had laid her groundwork. Pressing further now would seem out of character.
So she let the silence linger, holding his gaze as he held hers, letting him see the determination she had built her version of Eirlana around.
Later, she would take the pieces she had shown him—her knowledge of beasts, her fighting skills, that little flash of curiosity at Benlo—and give them new meaning.
This was the part of the con she had always excelled at, the storytelling.
Where Thane was charisma incarnate and Loraya the quick-fingered thief, it had been Kasira who transformed herself into another.
Kasira who had become noblewomen and politicians’ sisters and merchants’ daughters, whatever the role demanded of her.
She had worried she would be rusty, but after all these years, that instinct still came to her as naturally as breathing.
A door at Allaster’s back flew open, revealing the Riviairen woman she had seen kneading dough yesterday. “Class C in Jacara. Requesting immediate assistance. I’ve dispatched two mages, but I think you ought to go.”
Allaster spared Kasira one final, contemptuous look before he snapped his fingers, vanishing from the spot.
Kasira returned her staff to its rack, feeling strangely disquieted.
It wasn’t that she had thought this task would be easy—far from it.
She had predicted Allaster would be a difficult opponent; she hadn’t expected him to frustrate her so much.
He thought himself too clever for his own good, an attitude she should have anticipated from his name alone: St. Archer.
Like all the Miravi families named after the saints they honored, his was a noble one, and he had the spoiled demeanor to match. Born to a noble family, then elevated to one of the most powerful positions in the six nations? It was a miracle he could see past the cloud of privilege cocooning him.
No matter. She would find a way to deal with him. For now, her back ached from all the sparring, the wounds making their displeasure known. She only hoped she hadn’t reopened them, as the blood would show easily through her white uniform.
She turned around, surprised to find the mage still standing in the doorway.
She had a round, pretty face, with gentle brown eyes, loose curls, and light brown skin.
Her uniform hugged her shapely frame, and though her head only came up to Kasira’s shoulders, she had the impression this woman could deftly put her on her ass.
“I am Airamay Selvera, First Mage of Amorlin,” she said, her words drawn out by her melodic Riviairen accent. “You must be the new Assistant.”
The Kalish agent’s report had mentioned Airamay.
She was one of the key people they had noted whose loyalty to Allaster was unwavering, and she had apparently been helping him fill the gap left in the absence of a new Assistant.
She was also the first person who had looked at Kasira with anything less than animosity. In fact, she was smiling.
That, Kasira could work with.
Earning Allaster’s trust would be a long and difficult process, but it would go much smoother if she began by influencing the minds around him, making Airamay the perfect person to establish her first anchor around which to build her lie.
Besides, it made sense that Lady Eirlana, a woman used to being surrounded by courtiers and servants, would seek at least one mark of comfort in an unfamiliar place.
Kasira made a point of looking crestfallen. “Is that what I am? I feel more like a spider someone found in their shoe.”
Airamay hid her laughter behind a hand, a Riviairen marriage bracelet dangling from her wrist. Made of thin silver filigree, it had a sapphire crescent moon charm that caught the sunlight.
“Yes, Allaster can have that effect on people. He is like a fine wine that must be paired with the right food.”
Kasira made a considering noise. “Perhaps more like a backyard brew that burns all the way down.”
“Ah, but a flame requires both tinder and spark.” Her teasing was warm and lighthearted, and it made Kasira’s corrosiveness feel out of place.
She allowed herself to soften, not realizing how high Allaster had raised her hackles.
It fit with Eirlana’s character to grow frustrated with him, but it was more powerful an emotion than Kasira had felt in some time.
It bothered her that it had been Allaster who ignited it.
Kasira feigned hesitation before venturing, “I mean no disrespect, but you’re the first person here who hasn’t looked at me with barely concealed disgust. Why is that?”
Airamay’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry to hear that. I prefer to let my own experiences define my opinions, rather than past prejudices. I’m sure the others will come around in time.”
This was nearly too perfect. The people Kasira had conned in Thane’s employ were the kind to assume the worst of the world.
They looked for the lie in every statement, every interaction, just like Allaster.
But Airamay was another type altogether.
She was genuinely nice, and there was no one easier to manipulate than a nice person.
Still, Kasira knew better than to think Airamay guileless. Everyone wanted something—she had only to discover what. In the meantime, perhaps she had found a new way of securing her mental map of the Library.
She inclined her head. “I appreciate that. While you’re here, I don’t suppose I could trouble you to show me where my quarters are?”
“He didn’t show you to your room yet?”
“Not exactly.”
Understanding settled across Airamay’s face, alongside a weariness that Kasira expected had a story behind it. “Fates above,” she said with a small sigh. “That man will be the death of me. I’ll do you one better: How about a tour?”
They began with the path back to the barracks, which flowed through artifact rooms, sitting rooms with roaring hearths, and miniature greenhouses resembling the foyer.
Each room was wrapped in heartwood with high, vaulted ceilings and intricate crown moldings, the walls a blend of pale silver stone and the dark roots of the tree above that had wormed through.
Delicate carvings decorated handrails and doorframes, mosaics consisting of wrought iron and colorful stained glass filling every arching window.
The whole castle had a comforting, cozy feel to it that seeped beneath her skin, so different from the hard edges of life in the Malikinar.
She wanted to sink into it and let it overwhelm her, if only for a moment, but Eirlana would find no magic in these halls, no beauty in its art, so she kept her mask imperious as they emerged from a sitting room bedecked in gold, from the floor rugs to the mantel.
“I’ve never heard of the position of First Mage,” Kasira began as Airamay held open a heavy oak door for her to pass through. “What do you do exactly?”
“My primary job is to oversee the mages’ work.
” Airamay let the door swing shut. “Day-to-day, most of the mages answer the countries’ calls for help in relocating beasts or handling dangerous magical artifacts.
Or else tend to the on-site beasts, study their primary hypothesis, maintain the Library, or carry out general tasks.
I decide who does which of those things and when, and I’m typically the liaison between mages and the Librarian and Assistant. ”
An edge of exhaustion had crept into her voice at the end, and Kasira sensed a thread to pull. “If you do all of that, what does Allaster do?”
“All of that and more,” Airamay replied without hesitation, quelling Kasira’s theory that the Librarian might be passing off work onto her. “The Librarian and their Assistant handle the more volatile beasts and oversee the majority of Amorlin’s international relations.”
Which was why Kasira had been uniquely suited for Vera’s plan.
As a criminal-turned-Malik, she had experience dealing with dangerous beasts and people alike.
That said, she didn’t relish the idea of facing down a Zeras without trying to kill it.
She would hopefully be given magic before then, but that was a question for when she and Airamay were on better terms.
“Allaster and I have been sharing that work in the absence of an Assistant,” Airamay continued. “So you can imagine why I at least am quite glad to have you here.”
Kasira offered her a tentative smile, not wanting to seem too eager, though in time she would make a point of absorbing some of Airamay’s responsibilities. “Exactly how long has Allaster been at the Library?” she asked as they turned down a wide hall of stained glass.
“Since he was nine years of age. That was nearly a hundred and twenty years ago.”
Genuine surprise flitted across Kasira’s face.
It certainly explained his bitter pessimism and biting lack of patience, but it put her task in a new perspective.
Allaster wasn’t a fool—she had known that from the moment she met him—but he was something even more dangerous than that: He was experienced.
She would have to mind every detail.
One of which her mind snagged on immediately. “But I heard him talking to his brother earlier.”
“Ambric is one hundred and thirty-three.” Airamay smiled at her shock. “He was once a mage. The Library’s magic extends our age, and though we return the power when we retire, the effects last for some time.”