Abused muscles screamed as he settled into the saddle, and he nearly bit through his cheek in his effort not to cry out. Dev and Cara exchanged an amused glance, and Cara shook her head.
“Dev, only you would take a city boy on as an apprentice.”
Dev shrugged. “Sethan did it for me, back in the day. And hey, we can’t all have outrider parents.”
To Kiran’s surprise, Cara looked away, as if made uncomfortable by Dev’s words. But when she spoke, her voice remained teasing. “You were a tough little brat, as I recall, and you could already climb like a whiptail. Soft, my ass.”
“Couldn’t ride for shit, though. I thought I was gonna kill Sethan when he made me get back on a horse our second day out.” Dev directed a knowing grin at Kiran. “Bet you’re cursing me to Shaikar’s seventh hell and back right now.”
“It’s not so bad,” Kiran lied. A thread of curiosity surfaced through his nerves. He tried to picture Dev as an awkward young outrider apprentice, and failed. Even though Dev couldn’t be that much older than Kiran—five years at the most—Kiran couldn’t imagine him without his air of casual competence. He’d assumed Dev had learned all his skills since earliest childhood, raised in some kind of outriding family, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Perhaps he could find a way to ask Dev about it, without inviting any unfortunate questions in return. The last thing Kiran wanted to discuss was his own childhood.
“Aw, listen to him,” Cara said. “Still all polite. Now there’s a nice change from your foul mouth, Dev.”
Before Dev could reply, a bell clanged out from the head of the convoy. The level of commotion rose a notch as wagons began creaking their way back onto the trail. Cara tossed her long blonde braid over her shoulder and vaulted into her saddle, the mockery gone from her tanned face. “You and the kid get the rear station today. Jerik’s on point scouting the lower canyon, and I’m with the wagon.”
Dev flicked a hand in acknowledgement. He turned to Kiran. “You ready?”
“Yes. Should I—”
Raw, unadulterated power slammed outward from the city. Invisible and inaudible, yet Ruslan’s magic blazed forth with the screaming intensity of a sandstorm. Kiran’s senses reeled as Lizaveta’s amulet seared fire into his skin. Dimly, he was aware of falling; then an impact knocked him breathless. The surge of magic washed over him, seeking onward through the valley. Kiran was left sprawled in the sand with one foot still caught in a stirrup.
“I hate to think what’s gonna happen when your horse actually starts moving.” Dev leaned down from his saddle and freed Kiran’s foot, his face full of amused disgust. Beyond, men continued to bustle around the convoy wagons, hitching mules and securing gear, as if nothing had happened. Kiran shook his head in amazement. He’d known the untalented couldn’t sense magic, but this...how could they be so blind? His ears still buzzed with the sheer force of Ruslan’s fury.
“Muscle cramp,” Kiran mumbled to Dev. He waved Dev’s offered hand away and staggered to his feet. “Sorry. Caught me by surprise.” Awe and terror tightened his throat. That blast of magic had been Ruslan’s alone, with no help from the great forces of the confluence. Kiran had always known Ruslan was powerful, but he’d never had quite so vivid a demonstration of Ruslan’s strength.
“Told you, you should stretch.” Dev’s expression was bland, though his green eyes were sharp as ever. Kiran wanted to inspect the amulet for any damage, but under that gaze he didn’t dare. Dev was already suspicious enough of Kiran’s cover story. If Dev realized a mage hunted them, he’d plead with Pello to send a message to Ruslan, in hopes of saving himself. Kiran bit his tongue in frustration. Finding and destroying Pello’s charm would be child’s play, if he used magic. But the instant he did, he might as well shout his location straight into Ruslan’s ear.
Kiran remounted his horse. This time the ache in his muscles faded to insignificance under the weight of his nerves. Ruslan’s initial salvo had been a matter of impulse, the equivalent of a single, visceral shout of anger. Now Ruslan would plan his spellwork in earnest. Mindful of Dev’s eyes on him, Kiran suppressed a shiver.
CHAPTER THREE
(Dev)
“You sure you didn’t crack your skull in that little tumble this morning?” I asked Kiran, as our horses followed the tail wagon of the convoy around yet another dusty switchback.