Magic Claims by Ilona Andrews

“Yes. All the more reason not to serve me. More coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

I refilled his cup and added more sugar.

“We are all a product of our time,” Jushur said.

Not all of us. Like my father, my aunt also had awakened people who’d gone into deep sleep to support her in the new age. When I spoke to them, it was very clear that they had belonged to a different time. The mannerisms, the speech patterns, even their references were all different. Jushur spoke like he was born after the Shift. He’d adapted completely.

“Your grandfather, Shalmaneser, was one of twelve candidates for the throne. He grew up in a time of bitter strife when his siblings and cousins stabbed each other in the back. Winning his trust was a feat worthy of legends. He wanted to obtain power and keep it. He was convinced he was entitled to it by the virtue of his birth and abilities and, most importantly, he didn’t want any of his siblings to have it.”

I’d read the chronicles Erra’s staff had faithfully reproduced in the modern age. To say that my grandfather was paranoid would be a criminal understatement.

“Your father, Nimrrad im’Shinar, was a genius without equal. His star shone so brightly, it occasionally blinded him.”

More than occasionally. He pretty much had permanent blinders on when it came to certain things.

“Your father sought knowledge, progress, and enlightenment. He believed in the power of his mind so much, he couldn’t fathom that someone under his command might not share his vision. To him, his path was so glaringly obvious that any rational being had to follow it.”

True.

“You, too, are shaped by your times. The world has fallen apart around you. It’s now trying to be reborn like a phoenix from its ashes. We must endure its birthing pains even as they plunge us into danger. You want both power and knowledge, but not for their own sakes. You want them to keep your people safe and free. You fear one thing above all else.”

“And what is that?”

“An unfettered version of yourself giving free rein of your power. You fear it so much, you’ve shackled yourself.”

Okay, he had me there.

“I have served two rulers of Shinar,” Jushur said. “It is my greatest reward and blessing that I will serve a third, the one truly deserving of my loyalty, before my body becomes dust and my soul passes from this world.”

Full stop.

Jushur rose and took a knee. Rimush knelt behind him.

“I’ve dedicated many years to the survival of your family. There are others like me, brought here by your father, adrift and alone, strangers in an alien land. Your people are crying out in the wilderness, for they need a home. Will you turn a deaf ear to our desperate pleas? Will you reject us? Will you cast us out after all those generations of service?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Keelan muttered.

“Please, Sharratum.” Jushur intoned. “Allow us to stay.”

He knew exactly which buttons to push. My father did drag them here. They had followed him into comas that lasted thousands of years, not knowing if they would ever wake up. Despite all their manipulations and careful managing, they were loyal. Now my father was gone, and they needed someone to take care of them. They could take care of themselves, true, but my family owed them a debt. I could wave my hands and say it wasn’t my problem. After all, I hadn’t created this issue. I shouldn’t be responsible for the mistakes of a megalomaniac wizard just because he happened to be my father. And yet it felt like the wrong thing to do.

They were still kneeling.

“I’ll think about it,” I growled.





7





I walked the top of the wall. The sun was setting fast, and the woods looked ominous in the encroaching twilight. After my meeting with Jushur and Rimush I wanted some solitude. I told them they could stay in the house and escaped.

I stopped between two towers and leaned on the stone.

Heather Armstrong walked up the stairs onto the wall and headed toward me. The interim chief of the town guard moved fast and looked strong, her frame broad and sturdy. Her dark red hair was put away into a braid that looked a lot like mine.

She nodded to the guard in the tower near the gate, an elderly man with a cane sitting in a chair, and strode toward me.

I really wanted some alone time to sort things out, but it was clearly not in the cards.

Heather leaned on the wall next to me. “What can we expect?”

“Trouble. As soon as the magic hits.”

“I understand that. I meant what can we expect specifically?”

“I don’t know. You have more experience with these woods than we do.”

She sighed. “What if they launch another pod like the one that destroyed the town square?”

“We’ll deal with it.”

“How?”

I had a very good idea how. I just didn’t like it.

“You’ll see if it comes to that. But I don’t think there will be another pod.”

Heather frowned. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t kill the cow that you’re milking. You all keep giving the forest people. If it kills you all or frightens you enough to risk leaving and dying, its source of human tributes dries up.”

The line of Heather’s jaw hardened. “We don’t have a choice about it, you know.”