The Outworlder

reach his eyes, and he bowed slightly.
“Good luck on your mission then,” he said simply, and left me alone with my anger.
I exhaled heavily, glaring after him until he disappeared behind a tent. Then I remembered the wand he gave me, and my gaze drifted to it. Sleek and shiny, like a tail of a scorpion, ready to attack. I drew my fingers over the hilt and sensed it humming with energy. Eighty-one spells, huh?
With a slight pang of guilt, I looked up to the spot where he’d disappeared. He probably had the best intentions, and I was overreacting, as usual. Good thing I hadn’t managed to say any of the things I had been thinking of.
“You should stay away from him.”
I jerked in surprise. Laik Var was standing behind me, lips pursed and eyes fixed on the spot where the man had gone. I sensed an opportunity.
“Who is it?” I prodded.
“Tayrel Kan-Trever.” He said the name as if it was supposed to explain everything, but when the only thing I could offer was silence, he elaborated: “One of the Kanven Sandeyron pupils,” he added, but that didn’t help either. “Kanven used to adopt unwanted children and experiment on them. Among them was Tayrel Kan. The company tried to increase the magical potential in humans and, at least in his case, they succeeded. But,” he hesitated for a moment, “they messed him up pretty badly in the process.”
I shuddered. “Those scars…” I said before I could think. But the vessár waved me off.
“That’s a later development. I meant psychologically. He’s… not exactly stable. Only his substance dependence makes him, well, not easy, but possible to control.”
I remembered Tayrel Kan’s whites. Initially, I thought they were reddened because of the allergies—after all, most Dahlsi suffered from them, and neither medicine nor magic seemed to relieve the symptoms. Now I wondered if it was because of drugs. From what I’d heard, the heavy stuff—ytanga, as they called it—painted one’s whites pink. Such things were legal in Dahls, a sad necessity when the entire population was perpetually sick and miserable. Still, it was frowned upon in Mespana.
“Why do you even keep him?” I asked. “In Mespana, I mean. If he’s unstable.”
He huffed, making his veil flutter. “It’s Myar Mal’s decision. An official version is that we can keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do too much damage. And he is powerful, although not eager to share his powers. Anyway, he likes men and I know you Tarvissi are not… fond of such sentiments. We don’t need any quarrels now, so, for your own good, I’d prefer it if you tried to avoid him.”
I felt my skin crawl. I didn’t care about others’ personal lives—and I thought the universe would be a better place if more people shared my attitude—but I had no interest in men. And, frankly, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if one ever became interested in me.
Unwittingly, my gaze drifted towards the wand.
“Should I give it back?” I asked, feeling uneasy.
Laik Var hesitated, looking at the weapon, but finally he gave me a wave-shrug. “If you want. But it’s a good wand; it can save your life one day.”
He didn’t sound convinced, and anyway it wasn’t exactly what bothered me. It was my turn to hesitate, wondering how best to explain it; it seemed so obvious to a Tarvissi, but things were different among the Dahlsi.
“Isn’t it, like…” I stammered, “a courting gift?”
For a moment, Laik Var looked at me wordlessly, then he scoffed. “If he was interested in you, he’d tell you. No, this is innocent. I think Kanven tries to mollify him, so they send him a lot of free gear. He throws away most of it. You’ll get more use of it.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced, but giving it back would require me to meet Tayrel Kan again, and I wasn’t looking forward to that. I reached for my old wand and submitted it to Laik Var. The new one was smaller, and I was wondering how it would fit in my holster, but the container shrunk around it. Enchanted.
Without another word, Laik Var gestured toward the medical tent. He walked with me—to prevent any other accidental encounters? I didn’t ask.
I was so lost in my thoughts, I only noticed the sorceress waiting for us when we were a couple of steps away. She was an inconspicuous woman with shoulder-long hair and a face obscured by oversized glasses and a fringe. A yellow coat of a healer covered her Mespanian uniform.
“Amma,” said Laik Var, stopping abruptly. I paused as well, confused. It was considered rude among the Dahlsi to use only one name unless it was done by a close friend or relative. However, there was nothing familiar in the look she sent him.
“Laik Var,” she replied coldly, before turning to me. “You must be Aldait Han. I’m Amma La-Vaikra, allar of magic.”
Allar was a title given to anyone who finished the Academy with any degree, whether in magic or science. But it was generally used by the latter—allars of magic were usually just called sorcerers.
“I’m supposed to lead you through the process. If you please.”
She moved aside, gesturing me toward the entrance. I sent a questioning look to Laik Var, but he only nodded, and walked off with a stiff, unnatural gait I’ve never seen him walk with.
I went inside. The tent was large, but Amma La led me to a tiny section separated by folding screens. There were two cots, the one on the right already occupied and covered with a heavy throw.
“Who is that?” I asked, not able to hide my curiosity.
“Don’t concern yourself with them,” replied Amma La, making me flinch. There was nothing admonishing in her voice, but I thought I was being unreasonably nosy. So I clenched my teeth, determined not to ask any further questions.
Following the sorceress’s orders, I unzipped my suit and removed the upper half—with another pang of self-consciousness about the dark hair on my