The Rogue

CHAPTER 1 THE STONE-MAKERS’ CAVES

According to a Sachakan tradition so old that nobody remembered where it had begun, summer had a male aspect and winter a female one. Over the centuries since their founding, Traitor leaders and visionaries had declared the superstitions relating to men and women – especially women – to be ridiculous, but many of their people still felt that the season that exerted the most control over their lives had many feminine characteristics. Winter was relentless, powerful and brought people together in order to best survive.

In contrast, to occupants of the lowlands and deserts of Sachaka, winter was a blessing, bringing the rains that crops and livestock needed. Summer was harsh, dry and unproduct ive.

As Lorkin hurried back from the Herbery, all he could think was that it was colder than he’d expected in the valley. The chill in the air held a threat of snow and ice. He didn’t feel like he’d been in Sanctuary long enough for winter to be this far advanced. Only a few short months had passed since he’d entered the secret home of the Sachakan rebels. Before then he’d been down on the warm, dry lowlands, fleeing in the company of a woman who’d saved his life.

Tyvara. Something in his chest tightened in an uncomfortable, yet strangely pleasant way. Lorkin drew in a deep breath and quickened his stride. He was determined to ignore the feeling as resolutely as Tyvara was ignoring him.

I didn’t come here only because I fell in love with her, he told himself. He’d felt bound by honour to speak in Tyvara’s defence to her people, because she’d saved his life. She’d killed the assassin who had tried to seduce and murder him – but the assassin had been a Traitor, too. Riva had been acting on behalf of a faction that believed he should be punished for the failure of his father, the former High Lord Akkarin, to uphold a deal he’d made with the Traitors many years ago. Nobody within the faction had admitted to giving Riva an order to kill him. To have done so would mean they had acted against the wishes of the queen, so they claimed it had been all Riva’s idea.

There are rebels within the rebels, Lorkin mused.

His defence of Tyvara may have saved her from execution, but she had not evaded punishment. Perhaps it was the tasks that Riva’s family had set for her that kept her away from him. Whatever the reason, he’d endured the loneliness of a stranger in a foreign place.

He had nearly reached the foot of the cliff wall that surrounded the valley. Glancing up at the multitude of windows and doors carved into this side of the valley, Lorkin knew there would be times he’d feel trapped within this place. Not because of the savage winter, which would make staying indoors necessary, but because, as a foreigner who now knew the general whereabouts of the Traitors’ home, he would never be allowed to leave.

Beyond the windows and doors were enough rooms to house a small city’s populace. They ranged from small cupboard-sized hollows to halls the size of the Guildhall. Most were not cut far into the rock wall, since there had been tremors and collapses in the past and people felt more comfortable living close enough to the outside that they could run outdoors quickly.

Some passages ventured a lot deeper. These were the domain of the Traitor magicians – the women who, despite their claims that this was an equal society, ruled this place. Perhaps they didn’t mind living further underground because they could use magic to prevent being crushed in a collapse. Or perhaps they like to stay close to the caves where the magical crystals and stones are made.

At that thought, Lorkin felt a tingle of excitement. He shifted the box he was carrying to the other shoulder and strode through the arched entrance to the city. Perhaps tonight I will find out.

The city passages were busy as workers returned to their families. At one point Lorkin’s path was blocked by the children of two Traitors who had stopped to talk to one another.

“Excuse me,” he said automatically as he squeezed past.

The adults and children looked amused. Kyralian manners puzzled all Sachakans. The Ashaki and their families, the powerful free people of the lowlands, had too great a sense of entitlement to feel the need to express gratitude for the services of others – and thought thanking slaves for doing what they had no choice in doing was ridiculous. Though Traitors did not keep slaves and their society was supposed to be equal, they hadn’t developed a sense of good manners. At first Lorkin had tried to do as they did, but he did not want to lose his habit of being polite to the extent that his own people would find him rude, should he ever return to Kyralia.

Let the Traitors think of me as strange. That’s better than ungrateful or aloof.

Not that Traitors were unfriendly or without warmth. Both men and women had been surprisingly welcoming. Some of the women had even tried to lure him into their beds, but he had declined politely. Perhaps I’m a fool, but I haven’t yet given up on Tyvara.

Close to the Care Room, the city’s version of a hospice, where he worked most days, he slowed down to catch his breath. It was run by Speaker Kalia, the unofficial leader of the faction that had ordered his execution. He did not want her to think he had hurried back for any reason, or needed to finish his shift on time. If she thought him anxious to leave, she’d find a task to delay him. Likewise, if there wasn’t much to keep him occupied, he knew better than to sit down and rest or Kalia would find him something to do, and often something unpleasant and unnecessary.

Still, if he sauntered in as if he had all the time in the world, she might punish him for that, too. So he adopted his usual calm, stoic demeanour. Kalia saw him, rolled her eyes and took the box from him with magic.

“Why do you never think to use your powers?” she said, sighing and turning away to take the box to the storeroom.

He ignored her question. She wouldn’t want to hear about how Lord Rothen, his old teacher at the Guild, believed that a magician shouldn’t substitute all physical exertion for magic to avoid becoming weak and unhealthy.

“Would you like me to help you with that?” he asked. The box was full of herbs that would be turned into cures – some that he’d like to learn the recipe for.

She glanced back at him and scowled. “No. Keep an eye on the patients.”

He shrugged to hide his frustration and turned to survey the large main room. Not much had changed since the early morning, when he’d begun working for the day. Beds were arranged in rows. Not many were occupied. A few children were recovering from typical childhood illnesses or injuries and an old woman was nursing a broken arm. All were asleep.

It had been Kalia’s idea to put him to work in the Care Room, and he was sure she’d done it to test his resolve to not teach the Traitors how to Heal with magic. So far there had been no patients likely to die from sicknesses or injuries he could only cure with magic, but it was bound to happen eventually. When it did, he expected Kalia to stir up animosity toward him. He had a plan to counter Kalia’s, but behind her motherly appearance and demeanour was a shrewd mind. She may have guessed his intentions already. He could only wait and see.

Right now he couldn’t wait. He needed to be somewhere else. He was late, and getting later every moment that passed, so he followed Kalia into the storeroom.

“Looks like you have a lot of work to do,” he observed.

She didn’t look up at him. “Yes. I’ll be up all night.”

“You didn’t get any sleep last night,” he reminded her. “It’s not good for you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’m more than capable of doing without sleep. This has to be done now. By someone who knows what they’re doing.” She turned away. “Go. Take the night off.”

Lorkin did not give her a chance to change her mind. He smiled wryly to himself as he slipped out of the Care Room. Guild Healers knew how damaging lack of sleep could be to the body because they could sense the effects. Not knowing how to Heal with magic, Traitors had never sensed their error and believed a good night’s sleep was an unnecessary indulgence.

He hadn’t tried to convince them otherwise, since reminding them of what they didn’t know wasn’t tactful. Many years ago, his father had promised to teach the Traitors to Heal in exchange for the knowledge of black magic, despite not having the approval of the Guild to pass on such knowledge and, more importantly, black magic being forbidden to Guild magicians.

At the time, many Traitor children had caught a deadly disease and knowledge of Healing magic might have saved them. Black magic had allowed Akkarin to escape the Ichani who had enslaved him and return to Kyralia, but he never came back to Sachaka to fulfil his side of the deal. Since learning of his father’s broken promise, Lorkin had considered many possible reasons. His father had known that the brother of the Ichani who had enslaved Akkarin planned to invade Kyralia. He may have felt obliged to deal with that threat first. Perhaps he could not explain the threat to the Guild without revealing that he had learned forbidden black magic. He might have considered it too dangerous to return to Sachaka alone, risking recapture by the Ichani or the vengeance of his former master’s brother.

Perhaps he never intended to uphold the deal. After all, the Traitors had known of his terrible situation for some time before they offered their help, whereas they helped others – mainly women of Sachaka – all the time without asking a price. That they hadn’t helped Akkarin regain his freedom until it was an advantage to them certainly demonstrated how ruthless they could be.

The passages were quieter now, so Lorkin was able to travel faster, breaking into a jog when there was nobody around to observe. If someone from Kalia’s faction noticed he was in a hurry, it might be reported to her.

Life here didn’t quite live up to Tyvara’s claims of a peaceful society – or even a fair one, despite the Traitors’ principles of equality. Still, they are doing better than many other countries, and especially the rest of Sachaka. They have no slavery, and the work people are given is mostly decided by ability rather than an inherited class system. They may treat men and women unequally, but so do all other cultures – the other way around. Most cultures treat women far worse than the Traitors treat their men.

He thought of his newest and closest friend in Sanctuary, a man named Evar, who he was meeting tonight. The young Traitor magician had been drawn to Lorkin out of curiosity because he was the only other male magician in Sanctuary who had not yet paired with a woman. Lorkin had discovered that his first impression of the status of male magicians had been wrong: he’d assumed that if there were male magicians then the Traitors must offer them the same opportunities to learn magic as they offered women. The truth was, all male magicians here were naturals – magicians whose magic had developed naturally, forcing Traitor magicians to teach them or abandon them to die when they lost control of their powers. Magical knowledge was not otherwise offered to Traitor men.

The few fortunate male naturals were still not equal to the women, however. Men were not taught black magic. This ensured that even weak female magicians were stronger than the male ones, because they could boost their strength by storing magic taken from others.

I wonder … would I have been allowed into Sanctuary if I’d known black magic?

He did not ponder that, as he had finally reached his destination: the “men’s room”. It was a large room that accommodated Traitor males who were too old to live with their parents but had not yet been selected by a woman to be her companion.

Evar was talking to two other men, but left them as he saw Lorkin enter. Like most Traitor men, he was thin and small-boned, in contrast to the typical free Sachakan male from the lowlands, who tended to be tall and broad-shouldered. Not for the first time, Lorkin wondered if Traitor men had somehow grown smaller over time to fit their social status.

“Evar,” Lorkin said. “Sorry I’m late.”

Evar shrugged. “Let’s eat.”

Lorkin hesitated, then followed the other man to the food preparation area, where a steaming pot of soup had been cooked up by one of the men for them all to eat. This wasn’t part of the plan. Had he returned too late? Had Evar’s plans changed?

“Are we still going for that walk you suggested?” Lorkin ventured as casually as he could manage.

Evar nodded. “If you haven’t changed your mind.” He leaned closer. “A few of the stone-makers are working late,” the young magician murmured. “Got to give them time to finish up and leave.”

Lorkin felt his stomach knot. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked as they moved to one of the long dining tables, taking places at the end a little distance from the men already eating.

Evar chewed, swallowed, then gave Lorkin a reassuring smile. “Nothing I’m going to show you is secret. Anyone who wants to have a look is welcome to, so long as they have a guide, keep quiet and stay out of the way.”

“But I’m not just anyone.”

“You’re supposed to be one of us. The only difference is you’ve been told you can’t leave. If I tried to leave, well, I doubt I’d get far without permission, and that permission isn’t likely to be granted. They don’t like having lots of Traitors outside the city. Every spy is a risk, even with the mind-read-blocking stones. What if the stone was in your hand and your hand was chopped off?”

Lorkin grimaced. “Even so, I doubt anybody is going to be happy about me being there,” he said, returning to the subject. “Or you taking me.”

Evar swallowed the last bite of his meal. “Probably not. But dear Aunt Kalia loves me.” Though Lorkin had never seen Kalia chatting sociably to Evar, she did appear to approve of her nephew. “You going to finish that?”

Shaking his head, Lorkin pushed the remains of his meal aside. He was too nervous to eat much. Evar frowned at the unemptied bowl, but said nothing, took it and simply finished off the leftovers. Since land for crops or livestock was limited, the Traitors didn’t approve of waste, and Evar was always hungry. They rose, cleaned and packed away the utensils they’d used and then left the men’s room. Lorkin felt his stomach twist and flutter with anxiety, yet at the same time he was full of impatience and anticipation.

“We’ll go through one of the back ways,” Evar murmured. “Less chance you’ll be noticed going in.”

As they travelled through the city, Lorkin considered what he hoped to find out. The Guild had maintained for centuries that there were no true magical objects, just ordinary things given structural integrity or enhanced properties – like magically strengthened buildings, or the walls that glowed in the University – because they were made from material in which magic acted slowly and so continued to have an effect long after a magician stopped working on it. Even glass “blood gems” didn’t qualify. They channelled mental communications between the wearer and the creator in a way that prevented other magicians from hearing, but they didn’t contain magic.

He suspected that some of the gemstones in Sanctuary did. Most were like blood gems in that magic was sent to them and was converted by the stone to a purpose. Others appeared to hold magic ready to be used in some way. All Traitors who ventured outside their secret home carried a tiny stone inserted beneath their skin that not only allowed them to protect their mind if a Sachakan magician read it, but also let them project innocent, safe thoughts instead. The corridors and rooms within the city were illuminated by gems that gave off light. The Care Room where Lorkin attended the sick contained several stones with useful properties, from producing a warm glow or a gentle vibration to soothe sore muscles, to stones that could cauterise wounds.

If the historical records Lorkin and Dannyl had encountered were correct, then it was possible for a gemstone to store a vast amount of magic. There had been one such storestone in Arvice, the Sachakan capital, many hundreds of years ago. According to Chari, a woman who had helped him and Tyvara get to Sanctuary safely, the Traitors knew of storestones but did not know how to make them. She might have been telling the truth, or lying to protect her own people.

If knowledge of making such storestones existed, it could free the Guild of the necessity of allowing some magicians to learn black magic in case Sachakan magicians invaded again. Magic could be stored within the stones instead, to be used in the country’s defence.

Which was why he was risking this visit to the stone-makers’ caves. He did not want to learn how to make stones, he wanted to confirm that they held the potential he hoped. Then perhaps he could negotiate a trade between the Guild and the Traitors: stone-making for Healing. It would be an exchange that would benefit both peoples.

He knew he would have to work hard to convince the Traitors to consider such a trade. Having hidden from the Ashaki for centuries, they were rigorously protective of their secret home and way of life. They didn’t allow any mental communication in case it drew attention to the city. The only Traitors allowed in and out of the valley were spies, with few exceptions.

But as he followed Evar deeper into the underground network of passages, Lorkin worried that it was too soon to be visiting the caves. He did not want to give the Traitors reason to distrust him.

But as a foreigner, they might never trust him fully anyway. He only needed them to trust him enough that he could persuade them to trade with the Guild and Allied Lands. Eventually they may realise I haven’t been officially forbidden to visit the caves, and do something about it. I must take this opportunity now.

Evar had another view: “Traitors make their own decisions – or rather, they don’t like letting others make decisions for them. If you want us to do something, you’ve got to let us think the idea was ours. Should someone discover us visiting the caves, you will have, at least, reminded everyone that we have something the Guild might want in exchange for Healing.”

“Here we are,” Evar said, glancing back at Lorkin.

They had been walking down a passage so narrow they couldn’t walk side by side. Evar had stopped by a side opening. Over Evar’s shoulder Lorkin saw a brightly lit room. He felt his heart skip a beat.

We’re here!

Evar beckoned and stepped into the room. As Lorkin followed he looked around the huge space. It was empty of other people, as far as he could see. He turned his attention to the walls and drew in a quick breath.

They were covered in masses of glittering, colourful gemstones. At first he thought the distribution was random, but as he gazed at the swathes of colour he realised there were bands, swirls and patches of similar hues. He turned to regard the wall behind them and saw that the stones varied in size from tiny specks to crystals the size of his thumbnail.

It was beautiful.

“Over here we make the lightstones,” Evar told him, beckoning and heading toward a dazzling section of wall. “They’re the easiest to make, and it’s obvious when you get them right. You don’t even need a duplication stone.”

“Duplication stone?” Lorkin repeated. Evar had mentioned them before, but Lorkin had never quite grasped their purpose.

“One of these.” Evar changed direction abruptly and led Lorkin over to one of the many tables around the room. He opened a wooden box to reveal a single gemstone sitting in a bed of fine downy fibre. “With the lightstones you just have to imprint the growing gems with the same thought that you use to create a magical light. But for stones with more complicated uses, it’s easier to take one that’s already been successfully made and project the pattern within it. It reduces the rate of mistakes and flawed stones, and you can also raise several stones at the same time.”

Lorkin nodded. He pointed to another section. “What do these stones do?”

“Create and hold a barrier. They’re used for temporarily damming water or holding back rock falls. Look over here …” They moved across to a wall of tiny black crystals. “These are going to be mind blockers. They take a long time to make because they’re so complicated. It would be easier if they only had to shield a wearer’s thoughts, but they also need to allow the wearer to project the thoughts a mind-reader expects to read, to fool them into not realising there’s anything going on.” Evar gazed at the tiny stones in admiration. “We didn’t come up with them – we used to buy them from the Duna tribes.”

Dannyl’s warning that the Traitors had stolen the stone-making knowledge from the Duna people flashed into Lorkin’s mind. Perhaps that was only how the Duna people saw it. Perhaps it had been another deal gone wrong, like that between his father and the Traitors.

“Do you still trade with them?” he asked.

Evar shook his head. “We surpassed their knowledge and skills centuries ago.” He looked to the right. “Here are some we developed ourselves.” They approached a patch of large gemstones, their surface reflecting light with an iridescence that reminded Lorkin of the inside of exotic polished shells. “These are call stones. They’re like blood gems. They allow us to communicate with each other at a distance, but only with the gems they were raised next to. It can be hard to keep track of which ones are linked, so we can’t yet stop making blood gems.”

“Why stop making blood gems?”

Evar looked at him in surprise. “You must know of their weaknesses?”

“Well … let me guess: the maker of these doesn’t constantly see the thoughts of the wearer?”

“Yes, and only the message that the user sends is picked up by the gem receiving it, not all their thoughts and feelings.”

“I can see how that would be an improvement.” Lorkin turned to regard the room. There were so many patches of gems, and tables laden with objects faced the walls everywhere. “What do those gems do?” he asked, waving at a large section.

Evar shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I suspect that’s an experiment. Some sort of weapon.”

“Weapon?”

“For the city’s defence, if we’re ever invaded.”

Lorkin nodded and said nothing more. Questions about weapons would be suspicious even to his new friend.

“Weapon stones have to do things that a magician can’t already do,” Evar told him. “For someone with little skill or training, or a magician who has run out of strength. I’m hoping they make one’s strikes more accurate. I wasn’t much good at battle training, so if we are ever attacked I’ll need all the help I can get.”

“Would you even be fighting?” Lorkin asked. “From what I understand, in battles with black magicians, lowly people like me and you are only useful as a source of extra magic. We’d probably give our power to a black magician then be sent somewhere out of the way.”

Evar nodded and gave Lorkin a sideways look. “I still think it’s strange that you call higher magic ‘black’.”

“Black is a colour of danger and power in Kyralia,” Lorkin explained.

“So you’ve said.” Evar looked away, his attention moving around the room as if searching for something else to show Lorkin. Then his eyes widened and he made a low noise. “Uh, oh.”

Turning to look in the direction toward which his friend was staring, Lorkin saw that a young woman had stepped into the room, entering from the larger main archway. He resisted casting about for the smaller back entrance; it must be several steps away and the woman was bound to see them before they got there.

Looks like we’re going to get into that trouble Kalia wanted us to avoid.

A moment later, the woman looked up and saw them. She smiled at Evar, then her gaze slid to Lorkin and her smile faded. She stopped, looked at him thoughtfully, then turned and walked out of the room.

“Have you seen enough? Because I think it might be a good time to go,” Evar said quietly.

“Yes,” Lorkin replied.

Evar took a step toward the back entrance and then stopped. “No, let’s go through the main way. We don’t want to look guilty now that we’ve been seen.”

They exchanged a grim smile, took deep breaths, and started toward the archway the woman had disappeared through. They had almost reached it when another woman appeared, scowling angrily. She saw them and strode over.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded of Lorkin.

“Hello Chava,” Evar said. “Lorkin’s here with me.”

She looked at Evar. “I can see that. What is he doing here?”

“I’m taking him on a tour,” Evar replied. He shrugged. “No rule against it.”

The woman frowned and looked from Evar to Lorkin and back again. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and a look of annoyance crossed her face. “There may be no rule,” she told Evar, “but there are … other considerations. You know the danger in interrupting and distracting stone-makers.”

“Of course I do.” Evar’s face and tone were serious now. “That is why I waited until these makers had gone home for the night, and didn’t take Lorkin to the inner caves.”

Her eyebrows rose. “It is not up to you to decide when it is appropriate. Did you seek permission for this tour?”

Evar shook his head. “Never had to before.”

A flicker of triumph in Chava’s gaze set Lorkin’s heart sinking. “You should have,” she told them. “This must be reported, and I don’t want either of you out of my sight until the right people have heard about this, and decide what to do with you.”

As she turned on her heel and strode toward the archway, Lorkin glanced at Evar. The young man smiled and winked. I hope he’s right about not needing permission, Lorkin thought as they both hurried after Chava. I hope there isn’t some law or rule that nobody told me about, too. The Speakers had instructed him to learn the laws of Sanctuary and follow them, and he’d been very careful to do so thoroughly.

But he couldn’t be as unconcerned as Evar was. Even if they were both right, Chava’s reaction had confirmed Lorkin’s fears: that he had tested the Traitors’ trust in him by visiting the caves. He only hoped he hadn’t gone too far, and ruined his hopes of them ever trading with the Guild – or letting him go home.

CHAPTER 2 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL

Dannyl put down his pen, leaned against the back of his chair and sighed.

I never thought that taking on the role of Guild Ambassador again, in a country like Sachaka, would have me sitting around doing nothing, bored and alone.

Since Sachaka wasn’t part of the Allied Lands, he had no local youngsters hoping to join the Guild to test for magical ability, no matters concerning local Guild magicians to deal with, and no visiting Guild magicians to arrange accommodation and meetings for. Only the occasional communication between the Guild and the Sachakan king or elite came into his hands, or matters of trade to settle or pass on. That meant there was very little for him to do.

It hadn’t been like this when he’d first arrived. Or rather, the nature of the work had been the same, but he’d also spent a lot of time – usually evenings – visiting important and powerful Sachakans. Since he’d returned from chasing Lorkin and his abductor all the way to the mountains, the invitations to dine and converse with Ashaki, the powerful elite of Sachaka, had all but stopped.

Dannyl stood up, then hesitated. The slaves didn’t like it when he paced the Guild House. They flitted out of his way or peered around corners at him. He’d hear their whispered warnings preceding him, which was distracting. He paced in order to think, and didn’t need whispering interrupting his thoughts.

Eventually they’ll learn to stay out of sight, he told himself, stepping out from behind the desk. Either that or I’ll have to get used to walking in circles around my room.

As he emerged from his office into the main room of his apartment, a slave standing against the wall threw himself on the floor. Dannyl waved a hand dismissively. The slave gave him a cautious, measuring look, then scrambled to his feet and vanished into the corridor.

Walking slowly, Dannyl crossed the room and entered the corridor. It was strange and a little ironic that the way Sachakan homes were designed made them appealing buildings for pacing. The walls were rarely straight, and the corridors of the larger private part of the house meandered in gentle curves that eventually linked together.

The next cluster of rooms had been Lorkin’s. Dannyl paused at the main entrance, then moved inside. Any day now, a replacement assistant would arrive and take up residence here. Dannyl moved to the bedroom door and stared at the bed.

I don’t think I should mention that a dead slave woman once lay there, he mused. I would find that knowledge disturbing, and probably lie awake at night trying not to imagine a corpse lying next to me.

The body had been a nasty discovery, but worse had been finding that Lorkin had disappeared, along with another slave. At first he had wondered if Sonea had been right to fear that the families of the Sachakan invaders she and Akkarin had killed over twenty years before would take their revenge on her son.

After questioning the slaves and following the clues he’d gathered, with the help of the Sachakan king’s representative, Ashaki Achati, he’d discovered that this wasn’t the case. The people who had abducted Lorkin were rebels, known as the Traitors. Achati had arranged for five Sachakan Ashaki magicians to join them, and they had chased Lorkin and his abductor into the mountains. Into Traitor territory.

A mere six Sachakan magicians and one Guild magician could never have stood up to a Traitor attack, however. Dannyl had eventually realised that the only reason the Traitors hadn’t attacked was that it might have led to more incursions into their territory. If Dannyl and his helpers had come close to discovering the Traitor base, however, they’d have been killed. Fortunately, Lorkin had met with Dannyl and assured him that he wanted to go with the Traitors and find out more about them.

Dannyl turned from Lorkin’s former bedroom and slowly paced out of the apartment, feeling a gloom settle over him. He’d been relieved to know Lorkin was safe. He’d even been excited at Lorkin’s hopes of learning about magic the Guild had no knowledge of. What he hadn’t grasped was how awkward the situation had been for his Ashaki helpers.

They had been obliged to continue searching until Lorkin was found. Giving up out of fear of attack would have been a slight to their pride. Dannyl had saved them that humiliation by making the decision himself. It had seemed only fair, after they had put themselves in danger for him and Lorkin. But he hadn’t understood the harm it would do to his status within the Sachakan elite.

The corridor curved to the left. Dannyl ran his fingertips over the rendered white wall, then stopped at the opening to another apartment of rooms. These were for guests, and had rarely been occupied in the many years the Guild had used the building.

I’ve fallen out of favour, Dannyl mused. For giving up the hunt. For fleeing from the Traitors like a coward. And probably also for letting a Guild magician I was responsible for and outranked join an enemy of the Sachakan people.

He would have made the same choice, if faced with it again. If the Traitors did have knowledge of a new kind of magic, and Lorkin could persuade them to teach it to him and let him return home, it would be the first time in centuries that the Guild’s store of magical knowledge had been added to. He did not count black magic as new; it was more of a rediscovery, and it was still considered dangerous and undesirable.

Ashaki Achati had assured him that some regarded Dannyl’s “sacrifice” of his pride as admirably noble. Dannyl could have avoided it by asking his Ashaki helpers to help him come to a decision, thereby spreading the damage among them. But that would have risked a group decision to continue the hunt, and that wouldn’t have done anyone much good.

Dannyl did not enter the guest apartment, instead moving on down the corridor. Soon he reached the Master’s Room, the main public room of the building. Here was where the owner or person of greatest status within a typical Sachakan house greeted and entertained guests. Visitors entered the property from the main courtyard, were greeted by a door slave and led through a surprisingly humble door, down a short corridor, and into this room.

He sat down on one of the handful of stools arranged in a half-circle, thinking of the many delicious meals he’d been served while sitting on similar furniture in similar rooms. Achati, the king’s representative, had been given the role of introducing Dannyl to important people, and instructing him on protocol and manners. It was both interesting and a little worrying that this man was the only one who was still able to visit Dannyl without any disfavour rubbing off on him. Was Achati immune to such social rules, or was it something else?

Is he visiting because his interest in me is more than political?

Dannyl remembered the moment Achati had indicated he would like to have a closer relationship than friendship. As always, he felt a mix of emotions: flattery, trepidation, caution, and guilt. The guilt was not surprising, he reasoned. Though he’d left Kyralia feeling frustrated with and detached from his lover, Tayend, they hadn’t made any clear decision to part.

I’m still not sure I want to. Perhaps I’m being sentimental, not wanting to let go of something that only exists in the past. Yet when I ask myself if I’m interested in Achati, I can’t answer either way. I admire the man. I feel we have a lot in common – magic, interests, our age …

A slave entered the room and threw himself on the floor. Dannyl sighed at the distraction.

“Speak,” he ordered.

“Guild carriage here. Two passengers.”

Dannyl stood up quickly, his heart leaping with sudden excitement and hope. His new assistant had arrived at last. Though he had no work to hand over, at least he’d have some company.

“Send them in.” Dannyl rubbed his hands together, took a few steps toward the main entrance, then stopped himself. “And get someone to bring some food and drink.”

The slave scrambled to his feet and hurried away. Dannyl heard a door close and footsteps in the entry passage. The door slave stepped into the room and threw himself at Dannyl’s feet.

The young Healer woman that followed regarded the slave with dismay, then looked up at Dannyl and nodded respectfully. He opened his mouth to bid her welcome, but the words never came out, because his eyes had been drawn to a gaudily dressed man stepping into view from behind her and taking in the room with avidly curious eyes.

Eyes that snapped to Dannyl’s, and twinkled as a familiar mouth stretched into a smile.

“Greetings, Administrator Dannyl,” Tayend said. “My king has assured me the Guild will supply accommodation for Elyne’s foreign Ambassador in Sachaka, but if that is inconvenient I am sure I can find appropriate lodgings in the city.”

“Ambassador …?” Dannyl repeated.

“Yes.” Tayend’s smile widened. “I am the new Elyne Ambassador to Sachaka.”

Despite the fact that associating with criminals was no longer against any Guild rule, and that it was logical for Sonea to consult Cery when hunting down rogue magicians after he’d helped her capture one before, Sonea still met with him in secret. Sometimes he appeared mysteriously in her rooms in the Guild, sometimes she dressed in a disguise and met him in a secluded area of the city. One of the most secure places to meet had turned out to be the Northside hospice storeroom, reached by a hidden door to a neighbouring house Cery had bought.

It was safer to meet in secret because the most powerful Thief in the city, the rogue magician she was hunting for, did not look fondly on Cery for helping the Guild catch and lock up his mother, Lorandra. Skellin still had a lot of influence in Imardin’s underworld and would do anything – including murdering the searchers – to prevent himself being captured as well.

Not that we’ve seen any sign of Skellin in the last few months. Though Sonea had finally been given permission to roam the city freely, none of her investigations had produced any clue to the rogue’s location. Cery’s people were more likely to hear of sightings of the rogue magician, but they’d heard nothing. A man as exotic in appearance as Skellin ought to catch someone’s eye, but no reports of a reddish-dark-skinned, slim man with strange eyes had reached them.

“His rot sellers are all over my territory,” Cery told her. “As soon as I shut one brazier house down, another opens. I deal with one seller and ten more turn up. No matter how I deal with them, nothing puts them off.”

Sonea didn’t want to ask what “deal with” involved. She doubted it meant asking them nicely to leave. “Sounds like they’re more scared of Skellin than they are of you. Surely this means he is still in the city.”

Cery shook his head. “He could have someone else spooking sellers into it in his name. You got enough people working for you, and allies, you can run business from a distance. Only downside is how long it takes to get orders to your people.”

“Can we test that? We could do something that Skellin has to deal with personally. Something his allies and workers can’t decide for him. We’ll find out how long it takes to get a reaction, and that might tell us if he is in Imardin or not.”

Cery frowned. “Might work. We’d have to think of something big enough to get his attention, but which won’t put anyone in danger.”

“Something convincing. I doubt he’s the kind to fall into a trap.”

“No,” Cery agreed. “Trouble is, I can’t—”

Sonea frowned. His eyes had fixed on something over her shoulder and he had tensed all over. A soft scraping sound came from the door behind her. She turned to see the handle of the door slowly turning, first one way then the other.

She was keeping the door closed with magic, so whoever was testing it had no hope of getting inside the room. But whoever was, was trying to do so surreptitiously.

“I had better go,” Cery said quietly.

She nodded in agreement and they both stood up. “Let’s both consider it.” How long has the person turning the handle been standing on the other side of the door? Did they hear anything we’ve said? Nobody here but the Healers and helpers should be in this part of the hospice, and they would consider anyone lurking near the storeroom suspicious. Unless it is a Healer. A handful knew about her meetings with Cery and supported her, there were others who did not and who might find it objectionable that she used hospice rooms for the purpose.

She approached the door, waiting until Cery had silently slipped through the secret exit before she straightened and removed her magical lock.

The latch clicked and the door swung inward. A short, thin man took a step forward, grinning maniacally. As he saw her, and his eyes dropped to her black robes, his expression turned to one of horror. He went pale and took a few steps backwards.

But something stopped him. Something made him halt and brought a crazed hope to his face. Something made him put aside all fear of who and what she was.

“Please,” he whined. “I got to have some. Let me have some.”

A wave of pity, anger and sadness swept over her. She sighed, stepped out of the room, then closed the door and snibbed the mechanical lock with magic.

“We don’t keep it here,” she told the man. He stared at her, then his face darkened with anger.

“Liar!” he shrieked. “I know you have it. You keep some to wean people off it. Give it to me!” His hands became claws and he hurled himself at her.

She caught his wrists and halted his charge with a gentle pressure of magic against his chest. He was already agitated enough without her adding to his desperation by wrapping him in magical force. She could see the flash of green cloth in the corner of her eye as Healers further down the corridor, having heard his outcry, hurried to deal with him.

Before long the man’s arms had been seized by two Healers and they began half dragging, half guiding him back down the corridor. A third Healer remained, and as she looked up at the man she felt her heart lift in surprised recognition.

“Dorrien!”

The man who smiled back at her was a few years older and tanned from plenty of hours spent in the sun. Rothen’s son was the local Healer for a small town at the edge of the southern mountains, where he lived with his wife and children. A long time ago, when she was still a novice, he had come to the Guild for a visit and a friendship had started between them – a friendship that could have become a romance. But he’d had to return to his village and her to her studies. Then I fell in love with Akkarin, and after he died I could not contemplate being with anyone else. Dorrien had stayed in Imardin to help with the recovery after the Ichani Invasion, but his village had never stopped being his true home, and he eventually returned to it. He’d married a local woman and had two daughters.

“Yes, I’m back,” Dorrien said. “A short visit this time.” He glanced at the drug-crazed man. “Am I right in guessing the cause of his problem is something called roet?”

Sonea sighed. “You are.”

“It’s the reason I’m here. A couple of young men in my village returned from market a few months back with it. By the time they’d used what they’d bought, they’d grown reliant on it. I’d like advice on how to treat them.”

She looked at him closely. Unlike Healers in the city, he was under no obligation to avoid “wasting” his magic on treating the drug. Had he tried to use Healing magic to rid the young men of their habit and failed, as she had with most of the patients she’d secretly treated?

“Come with me,” she said, then turned and unlocked the storeroom. As he stepped inside she followed, shutting the door behind her. He glanced around the room, eyebrows raised, but took the seat Cery had been sitting in without comment. She settled on the chair she had just vacated.

“Did you try to Heal them?” she asked.

“Yes.” Dorrien described how the young men had come to him for help, realising belatedly that they couldn’t afford a roet habit, and embarrassed to find they’d been caught up in a vice of the city. He’d searched with his Healing senses for the source of the problem in their bodies, and Healed it, as Sonea had done with the patients she had worked with. And, as she had, he’d had varying success. One of the brothers had been cured, the other still craved the drug.

“I’ve had the same result,” she told him. “I’ve been trying to figure out why it’s possible to Heal some people and not others.”

He nodded. “So what do you advise for those that aren’t?”

“They shouldn’t use the drug again, in case the effect gets stronger. Some of my patients say keeping busy helps them ignore the cravings. Some drink. But not in small quantities – they say too little weakens their resolve to avoid rot.”

“Rot?”

“It’s the drug’s nickname on the streets.”

Dorrien grimaced. “I gather it’s an appropriate one.” He frowned and looked at her thoughtfully. “If we can’t Heal away other people’s addiction, can we Heal away our own? Not that I have a roet addiction,” he added, smiling faintly.

Sonea answered his smile with a grim one of her own. “That’s a question I’ve also been seeking the answer to, but with far less success. So far I haven’t found one roet-using magician willing to be examined. I’ve questioned a few, but that’s not going to produce the evidence I need.”

“You need for what?”

“To convince the Guild this is a serious problem. Skellin’s plan to enslave magicians with roet could have been successful – could still be successful.”

Leaning back in his chair, Dorrien considered that. He shook his head. “Magicians have been blackmailed and bought by other means before. Why is this any different?”

“Perhaps only in the scale of the problem. That’s why it needs more investigation. What percentage of magicians could be affected by roet? Are the ones not affected going to become addicts if they continue using the drug? Just how much does it alter thought patterns and behaviour?”

Dorrien nodded. “What is your guess? How big do you think the problem to be?”

Sonea hesitated as Black Magician Kallen came to mind. If Cery was right, and Anyi had seen the magician buying roet, the problem could be very big indeed. But she did not want to reveal what she knew until she was certain Kallen was using roet and she had proof that roet was as big a problem as she suspected. He might have been buying it for someone else. If she claimed he was an addict incorrectly she’d look a fool, and if she revealed it before she had proven that roet was dangerous to magicians then it would look like she was making a petty fuss about nothing.

Oh, but I wish I could tell someone. She had not told Rothen. He would want to do something immediately. He did not like it that Kallen treated her as if she couldn’t be trusted. Rothen was always urging her to put Kallen under as much scrutiny as he put her under. So would Dorrien.

“I don’t know,” she replied, sighing.

Ironically, the one person she thought she could probably tell and trust to remain silent was Regin, the magician who had helped her find Lorandra. Ironic that the novice I once hated for making my life a torture is now a magician I’d trust. He understood the importance of timing. Though she had met with Regin to discuss the search for Skellin, so far she hadn’t been able to bring herself to mention Kallen.

Perhaps I’m even more afraid that Regin won’t believe me, and I’ll make a complete fool of myself. She smiled wryly. No matter how much I tell myself we are not novices and deadly enemies any more, I can’t shake the suspicion that he’ll use any weakness against me. It’s ridiculous. He’s proven that he can keep a secret. He’s been nothing but supportive.

But he often did not make it to their meetings, or arrived late and was distracted. She suspected he had lost interest in the search for Skellin. Perhaps he felt that tracking down the rogue magician Thief was an impossible task. It had certainly begun to feel that way.

With Cery forced into hiding, and his people unable to find any sign of Skellin, she was not sure how they could find the rogue – aside from pulling the city apart brick by brick, and the king would never agree to that.

The Foodhall was, as always, noisy with the clatter of cutlery on crockery and the voices of novices. Lilia let out an unheard sigh and stopped trying to hear what her companions were discussing. Instead she let her gaze move slowly across the room.

The interior was a strange mix of sophistication and simplicity, the decorative and the practical. The windows and walls were as finely crafted and decorated as most other large rooms in the University, but the furniture was solid, simple and robust. It was as if someone had removed the polished, carved chairs and table in the grand dining room of the house she had grown up in, and replaced them with the solid wooden table and bench seats from the kitchens.

The occupants of the Foodhall were as varied a mix. Novices from the most powerful Houses to those born of beggars on the dirtiest streets of the city ate here. When Lilia had first started magic lessons, she had wondered why the snooties had continued to eat their meals in the Foodhall when they were rich enough to have their own cooks. The answer was that they didn’t have time to leave the grounds each day to dine with their families – and they weren’t supposed to leave without permission anyway.

She suspected there was a feeling of territorial pride at work as well. The snooties had been eating in the Foodhall for centuries. The lowies were the newcomers. The Foodhall had been the scene of many a prank between the lowies and snooties. Lilia had never been a part of either. Though she had never said it aloud, she was from the upper end of the lowie group. Her family were servants for a family belonging to a House of reasonable political power and influence – neither at the top of the political hierarchy nor in decline. She could trace her line back for several generations, naming which of her ancestors had worked for which families within the House.

Whereas some of the lowies were from very shabby origins. Sons of whores. Daughters of beggars. Plenty were related to criminals, she suspected. A strange sort of competition had begun between these lowies to lay claim to the most impressively low origin. If sewer ravi could be claimed as parents, some of them would boast of it as if it was a title of honour. Lowies from a servant family didn’t boast or make anything of it, or they invited a lot of trouble.

The hatred some lowies had for snooties did not seem fair to her. Her parents’ employers had treated their servants fairly. Lilia had played with their children when she was growing up. They had ensured that all of their servants’ children were given a basic education. Since the Ichani Invasion, they had brought a magician in every few years to test all children for magical ability. Though none of their own had enough latent power to be accepted into the Guild, they had been overjoyed when Lilia, and servant children before her, had been chosen.

The two girls and boys she spent her social time with were lowies, and they were nice enough. She, Froje and Madie had been friends since starting at the University. Last year Froje had paired up with Damend and Madie with Ellon, making Lilia the odd one out. The girls’ attention was mostly taken up by the boys now, and they rarely sought Lilia’s opinion, advice or suggestions for things to do. Lilia told herself it had been inevitable and that she didn’t mind too much, since she had always been more comfortable listening in than joining their conversations anyway.

Her gaze fell upon a novice she had been watching for a long time now. Naki was a year ahead of Lilia in University studies. She had long black hair and eyes so dark it was hard to find the edge of her pupils. Every movement she made was graceful. Boys were both attracted and intimidated by her. As far as Lilia could tell, Naki had shown no interest in any of them – not even some of the boys Lilia’s friends thought were irresistible. Perhaps she thought herself too good for them. Perhaps she was simply choosy about her friends.

Today Naki was sitting with another girl. She wasn’t talking, although the other girl’s mouth was moving constantly. As Lilia watched, the talker laughed and rolled her eyes. Naki’s mouth widened and thinned in a polite smile.

Then, without any little movement to warn that she was about to, Naki looked directly at Lilia.

Uh, oh, Lilia thought, feeling the heat of embarrassment and guilt beginning to rise. Caught out. Just as she was about to look away, Naki smiled.

Surprise froze Lilia. She wondered briefly what to do, then smiled in return. It would have been rude otherwise. She forced herself to look away. She didn’t seem to mind me watching her but … how embarrassing to be caught staring.

A movement in Naki’s direction tugged at Lilia’s attention. She resisted the temptation to glance back, trying instead to decipher what she was seeing in the corner of her eye. A dark-haired person was standing near where Naki was sitting. That person was walking now. That person was coming in this direction.

Surely not …

She could not stop her head from turning and her eyes from looking up. Naki, she saw, was walking toward her. She was looking right at her, and smiling.

Naki put her plate down next to Lilia’s and then slid onto the empty space on the bench beside her.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” Lilia replied uncertainly. What does she want? Does she want to know why I was looking at her? Does she want to chat? What on earth will I talk about if she does?

“I was bored. I thought I’d come over and see what you were doing,” Naki explained.

Lilia could not help looking over at Naki’s former companion. The talker was staring at them, looking confused and a little peeved. Lilia glanced at her companions. The girls were surprised, and the boys had that fearful and wistful expression they usually wore when Naki was close.

She said “… what you were doing”. It didn’t sound like it included all of us.

She turned back to Naki. “Not much,” Lilia said honestly, wincing at the lameness of her reply. “Just eating.”

“What were you talking about?” Naki prompted, glancing at the others.

“Whether we chose the right discipline,” one of the others said. Lilia shrugged and nodded.

“Ah,” Naki said. “I was tempted to choose Warrior, but for all that it’s fun I can’t see myself spending my life doing it. I’ll keep up my skills, of course, in case we’re ever invaded again, but I decided Alchemy would be more useful.”

“That’s what I thought about Healing,” Lilia told her. “More useful.”

“True, but I’ve never been much good at Healing.” Naki smiled wryly.

As Naki continued chatting, Lilia’s surprise slowly began to melt away. Somehow, by smiling at someone across the room, or perhaps because the talker on the other table had been boring, a beautiful and admired novice was chatting to her like they were new friends.

For whatever reason it had occurred, she resolved to enjoy the moment. Because she certainly didn’t think it would happen again.

CHAPTER 3 ACCUSATIONS AND PROPOSALS

The three days since Lorkin and Evar had been ordered to remain in the men’s room and stay there until the Speakers were all available to meet and deal with them had been surprisingly enjoyable.

“For doing what?” Evar had delighted in asking anyone who suggested that accusations or punishments would be directed at them. Nobody could say exactly what he or Lorkin were going to be accused of. Which gave Lorkin some confidence. Everyone knows there isn’t a rule or law or even an order that Evar or I have broken. If there was, I’m sure they’d have locked me away in a room on my own.

The occupants of the men’s room thought it was all very funny. Since the governance of Sanctuary was out of their reach, they delighted in any errors their leaders made – so long as those mistakes didn’t affect everyone badly, of course. They were so pleased that Lorkin and Evar had showed the Speakers up for fools that they had brought them gifts and spent time making sure their new heroes never grew bored.

Three of them were teaching Lorkin a game involving gemstones that had failed to take on any magical properties and a painted board. The game was called “Stones”, and they’d chosen it because gemstones were what he had got into trouble over.

A growing audience was hovering nearby. A few men were talking to Evar, and several more were scattered about the room, doing their usual chores or relaxing. So when the room began to quieten all of a sudden, everyone paused and looked up to see what the cause was. The men standing between Lorkin and the room’s entrance shuffled aside. Lorkin looked beyond them, saw who was standing there, and felt his heart stop beating and stomach start to flutter.

“Tyvara,” he said.

A smile fleetingly touched her lips, then she was serious again. She walked gracefully toward him, ignoring the men staring at her. Being the focus of those beautiful, exotic eyes sent a shiver of pleasure down Lorkin’s spine. Oh, I definitely haven’t got over her, he thought. If anything, the time she’s been away has made seeing her again even more exciting.

“I want to talk to you in private,” she said, stopping a few steps away and crossing her arms.

“Love to,” he said. “But I’m not supposed to leave the room. On Kalia’s orders.”

She frowned, then shrugged and looked around the room. “Then the rest of you leave.”

She watched as the men, muttering good naturedly, made their way out, and noted that Evar hadn’t moved. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Under the same orders – but don’t worry,” he said, standing up and moving away. “I’ll stay over there and try not to listen.”

Tyvara watched, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he moved away to the food preparation area, before looking down at Lorkin.

He smiled. It was too easy to smile at her. He was at risk of grinning like an idiot. Her long dark hair was clean and the dark hollows under her eyes were gone. He’d found her alluring before; now she was even more beautiful than imagination had painted his memory of her.

I wasn’t like this when we were travelling, he thought. Maybe I was too tired …

“I guess this will have to do,” she said quietly, uncrossing her arms.

“What do you want to talk about?” he managed to ask.

She sighed, then sat down and fixed him with a direct stare that set his heart racing. “What are you up to Lorkin?”

He felt a vague disappointment. What did I expect? That she’d invite me to her rooms for a night of … He quickly pushed the thought aside.

“If I was up to something, why would I tell you?” he countered.

Her eyes flashed with anger. She glared at him, then stood up and started toward the door. His heart leapt in alarm. He couldn’t let her leave so soon!

“Is that all you’re going to ask me?” he called after her.

“Yes,” she replied, without turning.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”

She slowed, then stopped and looked back at him. He beckoned. Sighing, she walked back to the seat and dropped into it, her arms crossed again.

“What then?” she asked.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in months. What has Riva’s family got you doing?”

She regarded him thoughtfully, then uncrossed her arms. “I’m fine. I’d rather be out there doing some good, of course, but …” She shrugged. “Riva’s family have me working the sewer tunnels.

He grimaced. “That can’t be pleasant, or interesting.”

“They think it’s as nasty a task as they could come up with, but I don’t mind it. This city needs its waste removed as much as it needs defending, and being a slave can involve much more unpleasant duties than that. But it is boring. I may end up hating it for that, alone.”

“You should come by and visit. I’ll try to entertain you, though I can’t promise it won’t be anything more than the silly mistakes a foreigner makes in an unfamiliar place.”

She smiled. “Has it been difficult?”

He spread his hands. “At times, but everyone has been friendly, and while I never wanted to be a Healer, at least I’m being useful.”

Her smile disappeared and she shook her head. “I never thought they’d put you in Kalia’s hands, knowing that she wanted you dead.”

“They know she’ll keep an eye on me better than anyone else.”

“And now you’ve made a fool of her,” she pointed out.

“Poor Kalia,” he said, without a trace of sympathy.

“She’ll make your life hard for this.”

“She does anyway.” Lorkin raised his eyes to hers. “You didn’t expect me to try to befriend her, did you?”

“I thought you smart enough to avoid giving her excuses to stir people up against you.”

He shook his head. “Lying low and keeping out of trouble will not get me that.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “One foolish Kyralian boy cannot change the Traitors, Lorkin.”

“Probably not, if they don’t want to,” he agreed. “But it seems to me the Traitors do want to. It seems to me some major changes are definitely part of their future plans. I am no foolish boy, Tyvara.”

Her eyebrows rose, then she stood up. “I have to go.” She slowly turned and walked away. He watched her hungrily, hoping the sight of her would imprint in his memory clearly.

“Come visit some time,” he called after her. She looked back and smiled, but said nothing. Then she was gone.

Moments later, the men began returning to the room. Lorkin sighed, then looked around to find Evar making his way across to the table. The young magician sat down, his eyes bright.

“Oh, what wouldn’t I do to get under the rug with that one,” he said quietly.

Lorkin resisted the urge to glare at his friend. “You’re not the only one,” he replied, hoping the young man would take the hint.

“No. Most men here would do anything for a night with her,” Evar agreed, not picking up Lorkin’s meaning – or pretending not to. “But she’s picky. Doesn’t want to get attached. She’s not ready.”

“Not ready for what?”

“Pairing. She doesn’t want to stop doing the dangerous work. Spying. Assassination.”

“Does having a man prevent that? I can’t imagine men could prevent the women doing anything here.”

Evar shrugged. “No, but when the women are away for long stretches, and might be killed, they know it’s hard on a man. It’s certainly hard for their children.” His eyebrows rose. “Actually, Tyvara’s caution is probably because of her mother, who died on a mission when she was young. Her father was devastated, and Tyvara had to look after him. She was … oh. I think it’s time.”

Lorkin followed the young magician’s gaze to the room entrance. A young female magician was standing there, beckoning to him. He exchanged a sympathetic look with Evar.

“I think you’re right,” he said. “Good luck.”

“You, too.”

They stood up and headed for the doorway, Lorkin reached it first. The woman looked him up and down and smirked. Lorkin figured she was considering his ability to cause her trouble, but couldn’t quite shake off the impression she was considering his potential for much more recreational physical activity.

“The Table is assembled and they want to talk to you both. You’re to go first.” She nodded at Lorkin. “Follow me.”

They walked in silence. The people they passed barely glanced at them, adding to the impression that nobody was taking his tour of the stone-makers’ caves all that seriously. Finally, they reached the entrance to the Speaker’s Chamber and stopped. Seven women sat around the curved stone table at the low end, but the tiers of seats fanning out from it for an audience were empty. Lorkin noted that the gem-encrusted chair for the Traitors’ queen was empty, as he expected. The old monarch only joined in the more important ceremonies, and he doubted she’d be at all interested in attending this one.

Director Riaya, a thin, tired-looking woman who guided proceedings, saw him and beckoned. He left Evar and the escort and walked toward the Speakers. Stopping before the table, he turned to face Riaya.

“Lorkin,” Riaya said. “You’ve been summoned before us to explain your presence in the stone-makers’ cave three nights ago. What purpose did you have there?”

“To view the stones in their stages of development,” he replied.

“That is all?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Why did you want to view the stones?” one of the Speakers asked.

He turned to regard her. Yvali was her name, and she tended to side with Kalia and the Traitor faction that had wanted him killed for his father’s misdeeds. But she did not always support them, he’d noted.

“Curiosity,” he replied. “I’d been told so much about them, their beauty and the skill involved in creating them, that I wanted to see them for myself. I have seen nothing like them before.”

“Did you learn all you wanted to learn?”

He shrugged. “I would like to learn how to make them, of course, but I did not expect to learn that by looking at them. Evar assured me it was not possible, and if he had not I would not have gone there. Just as you respect my right to keep secure the valuable knowledge I am entrusted with, I respect yours.”

There. That should remind them of the potential for a trade between the Guild and Traitors.

Kalia’s eyes narrowed and her lips thinned, but the others looked more thoughtful than sceptical. As he let his gaze move along the line of women, he noted the faintest smile curling Savara’s lips, but it vanished as he met her gaze.

Speaker Savara had been Tyvara’s mentor and was the unofficial leader of the faction that opposed Kalia’s. She had been charged with making sure he was “obedient and useful” as well.

“Why didn’t you inform anyone other than Evar of your intention to visit the caves?” she asked.

“I was not aware that I needed to.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Someone who acknowledges that the secret of making the stones is ours to keep should be smart enough to work out that we want to be consulted before any tours of the stone-makers’ cave are undertaken.”

He hung his head a little. “I apologise. I still find the more subtle manners of Sanctuary a little confusing. I will try harder to learn and adapt.”

She gave the faintest snort, but said nothing more, instead looking at the Director and shaking her head. The other Speakers also shook their heads, and whatever this indicated made the Director sigh faintly.

“Since you have not broken a law or rule, or disobeyed an order, you are not to be punished,” Riaya said. “We are partly to blame for not anticipating this situation, but we can prevent it occurring again. Lorkin,” she paused and fixed him with an unwavering stare, “you are ordered to keep away from the stone-making caves, unless taken there by a Speaker or her representative. Is that clear?”

He gave her a typical shallow Kyralian bow. “Perfectly.”

She nodded. “You may go.”

He walked away, fighting the urge to smile, knowing that anyone who saw it might interpret it as proof he had been up to something – or at least did not take this little slap on the wrist seriously. Then Evar entered the room, his thin face taut with worry, and the urge to smile vanished.

As they passed, Lorkin nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring way. The young magician grimaced, but his eyes seemed to warm a little at Lorkin’s gesture. Stepping into the corridor, Lorkin felt a pang of guilt at getting his friend into trouble.

Evar knew what he was getting into, he reminded himself. It was mostly his idea, and I did try to talk him out of it. We both knew that if we were discovered, though we would break no laws, Kalia would find a way to punish us anyway.

He suspected the young magician had his own reasons for arranging something that would irk the leaders of Sanctuary. There had definitely been some sort of vengeance or spite involved. Whenever Lorkin had tried to find out what it was, Evar had muttered things about the Traitors not being as fair as they claimed to be.

Whatever the reason, Lorkin hoped the young man had gained whatever satisfaction he’d been seeking, and that he wouldn’t come to regret it.

As the carriage pulled to a gentle stop before the Sachakan king’s palace, Dannyl drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. A slave opened the door of the vehicle and stepped aside. Climbing out, Dannyl paused to smooth his robes and look up at the building.

A wide central archway lay ahead of him. From either side, white walls rippled outwards in wide curves. Above them, only narrow bands of gold were visible of the shallow domes that topped the building.

Dannyl straightened his back, fixed his eyes on the shadowed corridor within the archway, and strode inside. He passed immobile guards, one of the few classes of free servants in Sachaka. It was better to have willing, loyal men protecting you than resentful, easily cowed slaves, Dannyl mused. Guards who were obliged to throw themselves to the ground every time a free man or woman walked by weren’t going to be much good at stopping invaders.

As in the typical Sachakan home, the entry corridor was straight and took visitors to a large room designed for greeting guests. Only this corridor was wide enough for six men to walk abreast. According to Ashaki Achati, the walls were hollow and contained concealed holes, so that attackers could shoot arrows and darts at unwelcome visitors. Dannyl could see no obvious holes and hatches, but he suspected the alcoves that were spaced along the corridor, each containing a beautifully crafted pot, could be reached from within, their inner surface broken if needed. Picturing such a scenario, he wondered if the warriors within the walls would carefully put the precious vessels aside, or knock them out of the way.

The other difference between a humble Sachakan mansion and the palace was that the corridor ended at a very large room. Dannyl entered the great hall, feeling his skin prickle in the cold air. Walls, floor and the many columns that supported the ceiling were polished white stone, as was the throne.

Which was empty.

Dannyl slowed as he approached the stone chair, trying not to look dismayed or worried by the absence of the monarch who had summoned him. As always, there were a few Sachakan men in the room: a group of three to the left and a lone man to the right. All wore elaborately decorated short jackets over plain shirts and trousers, the traditional formal garb of Sachakan men. All were watching Dannyl.

Into the silence and stillness came slow, firm footsteps. All attention shifted to a doorway to the right. The four Sachakans bowed deeply as King Amakira strode past them. Dannyl dropped to one knee – the Kyralian obeisance appropriate to a king.

“Rise, Guild Ambassador Dannyl,” he said.

Dannyl stood. “Greetings, King Amakira. It is an honour to be summoned to the palace again.”

The old king’s gaze was sharp, his expression thoughtful and amused as if he were considering something.

“Come with me, Ambassador Dannyl. There is something I wish to discuss with you and it would be better explored in more comfortable surrounds.”

The king turned and strode back toward the side entrance. Dannyl followed, keeping a few steps back and to the side of the monarch, since he had not been invited to walk beside him. They moved into a corridor, crossed it and went through a door held open by a guard into a smaller room. The furniture and decorations were, once again, more elaborate versions of typical Sachakan ones. Stools were larger and highly decorated. Cupboards were so big they could only have been assembled in the room, since the doors, though large enough for two people to pass through side by side, were too small to allow them through. Cushions on the floor were encrusted with so many gemstones that Dannyl doubted they were comfortable, suspecting that sitting on them might even cause injury to clothing or skin.

“This is the audience room,” Amakira told him. He sat down on a stool and indicated another. “Sit.”

“It is magnificent, your majesty.” Dannyl complied, glancing around at the hangings and precious objects in wall alcoves and cupboards. “Such fine examples of Sachakan skill and artistry.”

“So your friend, the Elyne Ambassador, said. He was particularly taken with the glassware.”

Surprise was followed by annoyance. How had Tayend managed to gain an audience with the king within a few days of arriving? I suppose he is the first non-Guild Ambassador to take residence in Sachaka, whereas I was just another Guild Ambassador. Dannyl made himself nod and hoped his efforts at hiding his jealousy were effective. “Ambassador Tayend has a great liking for brightly coloured, elaborate things.”

“How is he? Settling in well?”

Dannyl shrugged. “It is too early to tell, and we have been too busy to exchange much more than greetings.”

The king nodded. “Of course. I found him witty and insightful. I’m sure a man of his charm and enthusiasm will be popular among the Ashaki.”

“I’m sure he will,” Dannyl replied smoothly. He found himself remembering a conversation with Achati during their return from hunting for Lorkin: “We make sure we know everything we can about the Ambassadors the Guild sends our way. And your choice of companions isn’t exactly a secret in Imardin.” The king must know Tayend was Dannyl’s former lover and companion. So did Achati. But who else here knew? Did all the powerful men of Sachaka know about them? If they did, they couldn’t be too bothered about Tayend’s preference for male lovers – since he was being as swamped with invitations to dinner as Dannyl had been when he’d first arrived.

Though Achati was acting as adviser and introducer for Tayend, as he had for Dannyl, he always arrived early to the Guild House so that he and Dannyl could spend some time talking. Even when Tayend joined in these conversations, Achati still directed most of his attention toward Dannyl.

For which I’m grateful. He may have other reasons than to make me feel better about being upstaged by Tayend, though. Perhaps he wants to demonstrate that his interest hasn’t shifted to Tayend. To remind me of his proposal.

Achati hadn’t yet asked if Tayend’s arrival had meant the resumption of his former relationship with Dannyl. I’m not sure what to say if he asks. I hadn’t considered us officially parted. Now that he’s here … it feels like we have. Tayend hasn’t behaved as if we’re together. He had taken that as a cue. Or had Tayend taken Dannyl’s manner as a cue first?

The first emotion he’d felt at Tayend’s arrival was annoyance. To cover it, Dannyl had made sure to be as polite and formal as an Ambassador should be to another. Tayend had followed suit, which then made Dannyl start to miss their old, teasing familiarity. Even if it had been laced with resentment in recent years.

“I have my people looking for suitable accommodation for the Elyne Ambassador,” the king said. “It may take some months. Are there any reasons of a political nature that require the Ambassador to stay somewhere other than the Guild House in the meantime?”

Dannyl considered, then shook his head. “No.” Though I suspect I will wish there were sometimes …

“If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to inform Ashaki Achati. He will make alternative arrangements.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, to the matter I wish to discuss, Ambassador Dannyl.” The king’s expression became serious. “Have you heard from Lord Lorkin?”

“No, your majesty.”

“Could you establish communications with him?”

“I doubt it.” Dannyl paused to consider. “Perhaps with the Traitors’ cooperation. I could see if the slaves would pass on—”

“No, I would not trust communications passed on by the Traitors. I mean communication with Lorkin directly.”

Dannyl shook his head. “Not secretly. The only way I can contact Lorkin without the Traitors’ help would be open mental communication – and all magicians would hear that.”

The king nodded. “I want you to find a way. If you need Sachakan assistance – non-Traitor assistance, that is – Achati will arrange it.”

“I appreciate your concern for Lord Lorkin,” Dannyl said. “He did convince me that he joined them of his own choosing.”

“Nevertheless, I wish this connection established,” the king said firmly. His eyes were unblinking as he looked at Dannyl. “I expect any information about the Traitors to be passed on, in return for my people’s efforts in helping you attempt to retrieve your former assistant. Cooperation between our nations can only be of mutual benefit.”

A shiver ran down Dannyl’s spine. He wants Lorkin to be his spy. Dannyl kept his expression neutral, and nodded. “It is, indeed.” Keep him happy, but don’t make any promises, he told himself. “Lorkin knew that joining the Traitors might prove to be a problem for the Guild, politically, and suggested that we officially expel him. The Guild would do so reluctantly, of course. It has not been a decision we wished to hurry, nor did we wish to do so unless it was absolutely necessary. The reason I mention this is … we may not have any means to compel him to cooperate with us.”

“The Traitors indicated that they would never allow him to leave their base,” the king said. “That sounds like imprisonment to me. He could have been coerced into saying he was happy to join them. I’m surprised that the Guild is going to leave the matter as it is.”

“Lorkin contacted his mother via a blood ring right before he met with me, to assure her that he was joining them of his own free will. She sensed no lie or distress. He then gave the blood ring to me,” Dannyl added. “So that I could return it to her.”

“I’m surprised his mother accepts this arrangement.”

“She is understandably upset – but not about to march into Sachaka to fetch him home, I assure you.”

The king smiled. “A pity he did not keep the ring.”

“I expect he did not want to risk that the Traitors would search him and find it.”

The king shifted in his seat. “I want you to endeavour to establish a safe form of communication with him, Ambassador Dannyl.”

Dannyl nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

“I know you will. I will delay you no longer.” The king rose and, as Dannyl stood up, indicated Dannyl should walk beside him as they headed toward the door. “I regret that this situation occurred at all. We should have anticipated that the Traitors might turn their attention to the Guild at some point. But I am glad your assistant is alive and in no immediate danger.”

“Thank you, your majesty. I am, too.”

They reached the door and stepped into the corridor.

“How is your new assistant, Lady Merria, settling in?”

Dannyl smiled grimly. “Well, and adapting quickly.” She’s already bored with the lack of work to do, Dannyl wanted to add. Perhaps … perhaps I can ask her to consider how we might contact Lorkin.

The king shook his head. “I’d have advised strongly against a woman as your assistant, since she will have difficulty interacting with Sachakan men, but I would once have also reasoned that a woman would be a more likely target for the Traitors, and I have been proven wrong in that. I may be wrong about Lady Merria’s success here, too.”

“Your majesty is undoubtedly right in all other matters and I will always trust his wisdom, especially on Sachakan matters. That is why I am giving her work that does not require her to deal with Sachakan men.”

The king chuckled. “You are a smart man.” He stopped at the door to the throne room, gesturing for Dannyl to continue inside alone. “Goodbye, Ambassador.”

“As always, an honour and pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” Dannyl bowed. As the king walked away he turned and re-entered the great hall.

Well, at least I now have something to give Merria to do. Though giving her an impossible task like finding a way to contact Lorkin without using the Traitors seems a bit cruel. But it’s not as if she is interested in my research, and I can’t ask her to venture out alone into an Ashaki’s personal library to examine books for me anyway.

It wasn’t as if he’d had any invitations to any libraries himself lately, either. As far as his research was concerned, he was getting nowhere at all.

Sonea shifted the basket of bed sheets to her other hip, then tugged the hood of her cloak further down over her face. Though it was raining, and there was a chill to the air that warned of harsher days ahead, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Maybe roaming the city in disguise would grow tiresome eventually, but for now she relished the freedom it gave her.

Not far from the hospice was a cleaner’s shop that tackled most of the washing for the hospice. It had been a long time since she’d made that arrangement with the owner, and the shop had changed hands a few times since then. The hospice helpers always delivered the laundry, so there was little chance anyone at the cleaner’s shop would recognise her – unless, of course, she had treated them or their family.

She ducked in through the open door and dropped off the basket quickly. There was no need to talk to anyone, and the staff were used to hospice workers being in a hurry. Next door was a sweet shop, and Sonea slipped through the door. She bought a bag of pachi fruit drops and spoke a code word. The middle-aged woman behind the counter waved her toward a door into a narrow passage.

Within a few steps she was knocking at another door. The number of taps had been agreed to weeks ago. A voice called out a code word and she pushed through into a small room bisected by a narrow desk.

“Greetings.” A barrel-chested man rose and bowed to her as best he could in the small space. “They are waiting for you.”

Sonea nodded and moved to a side door – she had to sidestep around the desk to reach it. Unlocking it with magic, she moved into a stairwell and locked the door behind her, adding a magical barrier stretched across the frame as an extra precaution.

The man in the small room was an employee of Cery’s. As far as Sonea could tell, he was the husband of the sweet shop woman, and arranged debt collection. Descending the short staircase, Sonea entered a room not much bigger than the one above, furnished with only two chairs. Cery was sitting in one, but neither Gol nor Anyi had taken the other.

Pushing back her hood, Sonea smiled at her old friend and his bodyguards.

“Cery. Gol. Anyi. How are you all? What are you grinning at, Cery?”

Cery chuckled. “It’s always nice to see you in something other than those black robes.”

She ignored him and looked at Anyi and Gol. Both shrugged. They looked a little cold. The room was definitely chilly. She drew some magic and channelled it out as heat. Both bodyguards frowned, looked around, then turned to regard Sonea thoughtfully. Sonea smiled and sat down.

“I hope you’ve had some ideas on how to lure Skellin into revealing how far from Imardin he is,” she said, looking at Cery. “Because I haven’t.”

He shook his head. “None that don’t rely on people I can’t trust, or that will risk too many lives. I’ve lost too many allies. Even those that still deal with me are taking advantage of my problems. Gol has had several offers of employment.”

“Me, too,” Anyi said. “Just this afternoon. In fact, it gave me an idea.”

All turned to regard her. Cery’s daughter looked too young to be a bodyguard. But then, these days Sonea felt most graduating novices looked too young to be considered responsible adults.

“Go on,” Cery said.

“What if I took up one of the offers?” Anyi said, her eyes gleaming. “What if I pretended to be fed up with working for you, and decided I was never going to get anywhere working for the least powerful Thief in the city? I could take a job and spy for you.”

Cery stared at his daughter. His face did not appear to move, but Sonea saw subtle shifts in his expression: horror, fear, caution, speculation, guilt.

“They’d never trust you enough to put you anywhere you’d learn something useful,” he told Anyi.

Why doesn’t he just say “no”, Sonea wondered. But as Gol glanced at Cery his expression was full of warning. He knows Cery has to tread carefully. Perhaps if Cery blocks Anyi outright she’ll be more likely to defy him. Like Lorkin had been inclined to do to Sonea, from time to time.

Anyi smiled. “They will if I betray you,” she said. “I could tell someone where to find you, perhaps. Of course, you’ll know and can arrange an escape plan.”

Cery nodded. “I’ll consider it.” He looked at Sonea. “Anything from Lorandra?”

Thinking of Skellin’s mother, locked away in the Dome, Sonea winced. “Some of the Higher Magicians don’t like me talking to her, and I suspect Administrator Osen only agrees to it because he thinks it would be cruel if nobody ever spoke to her. Kallen told us that she doesn’t know where Skellin is so they can’t see why I bother questioning her. They don’t see that mind-reading has limits, and that she may be able to guess where her son is if prompted. I doubt I’ll ever get permission to read her mind myself.” She shook her head. “And talking to her is all I do. She never says a word.”

“Keep at it,” Cery advised. “Even if you feel ridiculous asking the same questions over and over again. It has a way of wearing a person down.”

Sonea sighed and nodded. “If it doesn’t wear me down first.”

He smiled grimly. “Nobody said interrogation was easy. You’re not the one locked up, though. She’s got to be fed up with being shut away in a stone room for so long.”

“We have little other choice. There’s been talk of building a prison somewhere on the Grounds, but that could take several months.”

“Why don’t they just block her powers?”

“Same reason they were reluctant to read her mind. It could offend her people.”

Cery’s eyebrows rose. “She broke the laws of our country and plotted, with her son, to take over the city’s underworld and enslave magicians. The Guild is worried about offending her people?”

“Yes, it’s ridiculous. But I expect she’ll be even less cooperative if we block her powers.”

“She might be more cooperative, if you suggested you might remove the block later.”

Sonea looked at Cery reproachfully. “Lie to her?”

He nodded.

“You Guild types are far too squeamish,” Anyi said. “Things would be a lot easier if you weren’t always worried about rules and lying to enemies or offending people.”

“As if the life of a Thief is any different,” Sonea pointed out.

Anyi paused. “I guess that’s true, but your rules force you to be so darn nice all the time. Nobody expects a Thief to be nice.”

“No.” Sonea smiled. “But how different do you think the Allied Lands would be if magicians weren’t forced to be nice.”

Anyi frowned, opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“The word ‘Sachaka’ just popped into my mind,” Gol muttered.

The young woman nodded. “I see what you mean. But perhaps there are times for being a little less nice to avoid something really nasty happening. Like Skellin getting control of the city.”

Anyi looked at Sonea expectantly. Sonea suppressed a sigh. She has a point. She looked at Cery.

“I’ll talk to her again,” she promised. “But I won’t deceive her unless there isn’t any alternative. Even little betrayals tend to have nasty consequences later.”

CHAPTER 4 VISITING

Lilia picked up her bag and paused to look around her room. Like most University entrants from the lower classes, she had been astounded to find she would have an entire room to herself in the Novices’ Quarters. The rooms weren’t big by snootie standards, of course. They contained a bed, a cupboard, a desk and a chair. Bedclothes and robes were washed and the room cleaned by the servants.

She knew that several years ago, with the number of magicians diminished due to the war and that of novices growing rapidly after lowies had been allowed to join the Guild, accommodation in the Novices’ Quarters had been quickly filled and novices from the Houses had been allowed to share empty rooms in the Magicians’ Quarters.

Not now. The Magicians’ Quarters were full again. Graduating lowies were given priority whenever rooms became available, since magicians from the Houses were more likely to have respectable homes in the city to live in. Some lowie magicians used their income from the king to buy or rent houses in the city, too.

The Novices’ Quarters were still too small, and the Guild had been forced to allow some of the snootie novices to live at home. They’d done so reluctantly, Lilia knew, because magicians weren’t supposed to involve themselves in politics and the Houses were always involved in politics. Removing snootie novices from their families helped to distance them from that world.

Naki was one of the snooties living at home. She said she hated it. Lilia didn’t quite believe her new friend, and it certainly didn’t put her off accepting an invitation to stay the night.

Do I have everything? She looked at her bag and considered the contents: some toiletries, nightclothes and a spare set of robes. We magicians don’t need much.

Turning to the door, she opened it and stepped out into the corridor. To her dismay, her friends from her class were walking past. Though they hardly paid much attention to her these days, now that they had paired up with the boys, they would notice anything unusual in Lilia’s behaviour. Lilia’s heart sank as they saw her and, noticing her bag, immediately looked curious.

Madie walked over, Froje following.

“Hai, Lilia! Where are you off to?”

“Naki’s place,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound too smug.

“Ooh-er. Friends in high places.” Madie’s tone was lighthearted and teasing, to Lilia’s relief.

Froje frowned and stepped closer. “You know they say things about her, don’t you?” she asked in a low voice.

Lilia stared at the girl. Froje wasn’t one for gossip and spite normally. The girl looked more concerned than mean, however.

“They say things about everyone,” Lilia said lightly, then cursed herself. I should have played along to find out what people are saying. Not that I’d believe it, but still … it might help Naki avoid trouble.

Madie smiled. “Well, you can tell us if it’s true or not, eh?” She looked at Froje and tilted her head toward the main entrance of the Novices’ Quarters. “Have fun,” she said. The pair continued on their way.

Gripping her bag, Lilia followed slowly, letting them gain a lead on her. As she emerged from the Novices’ Quarters she saw Naki standing nearby and her mood immediately brightened. The late sun cast streaks of reflected gold in her friend’s hair and made her pale skin glow. It was colouring all the novices’ complexions too. But none suit it so well as Naki. Half the boys out here are staring at her. I can’t believe someone so beautiful and popular wants to be my friend.

Naki saw her and smiled. Lilia’s heart lifted, but at the same time her stomach fluttered uncomfortably as it had since Naki had first invited her to her home. I had better not do anything to annoy her, because I don’t have the good looks and charm that she has to ensure I’ll always have people wanting to be my friend.

“Father’s carriage is waiting for us,” Naki said as they met each other.

“Oh! Sorry. I must be late.”

“No, not really.” Naki shrugged and started toward the path through the gardens. “He often sends it early. It’s annoying, as there are only so many carriages that can fit out the front of the University and they always get jammed. What do you want to do tonight? I thought we might put our hair up.”

Lilia tried not to wince. Her mother had done fancy things to her hair when she was a child, and she’d hated the tugging and pinching, and how the clips made her scalp itch. Naki looked at Lilia and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lilia read disbelief on the other girl’s face. “My mother used to do it to me for special occasions. There was always a hair pulling or a pin sticking into me.”

“Don’t worry. I promise there will be not one pulled hair. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Naki laughed – a throaty, deep laugh that made heads turn. They chatted more as they walked through the gardens. When they rounded the end of the University they found a mass of carriages waiting. Naki took Lilia’s arm and guided her through them. She stopped at one and the driver leapt down to open the door for them.

The jam of carriages outside delayed them for some time, but Lilia barely noticed. She was too busy enjoying talking to Naki. They started by swapping amusing stories of encounters between servants and their masters, then an anecdote about a servant Naki had grown up with made her pause and look at Lilia thoughtfully.

“You know, you remind me a lot of her. I wish you could have met each other.”

“She doesn’t work for you any more?”

“No.” Naki’s face darkened. “Father sent her away.”

He seems to be the bad guy in all her stories, Lilia mused.

“You don’t like him, do you?” she asked cautiously, not sure how Naki would react to a personal and perhaps sensitive question.

Naki’s face changed dramatically. Suddenly her gaze was darker and her face taut. “Not much. And he hates me.” She sighed, then shook herself as if trying to throw off something bad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything, in case it made you afraid to meet him.”

“I’m not that easily scared,” Lilia assured her.

“He’ll be perfectly polite to you. After all, you’re a member of the Guild. He has to treat you as an equal. Well, as a novice anyway. He might turn all teacherly, though.”

“I can handle that.”

“And we don’t have to tell him you’re from a servant family for now,” Naki said anxiously. “He’s a bit … like that.”

“That’s fine. What matters is that you’re not like that. I appreciate it.”

Naki smiled. “And what I like about you is that you don’t hate us, like the other … you know … do.”

Lilia shrugged. “My family works for a nice, decent family. It’s hard to agree with people who say—”

“Look! We’re here.”

Naki waved eagerly at the carriage window. Lilia peered out, looking where her friend pointed. They stopped outside a huge building. She’d known that Naki was from a rich and powerful House, but it hadn’t quite sunk in until this moment. Nerves and excitement warred within her. She tried to quell them.

“Don’t worry,” Naki said, somehow picking up on Lilia’s trepidation. “Relax and leave everything to me.”

The next hour passed in a blur. Naki led her into the house. First she introduced Lilia to her father, Lord Leiden, who welcomed her in a distant and distracted way. Then they went upstairs to a spacious collection of rooms that were all Naki’s. Aside from the main bedroom, there was a room filled with clothing and shoes, and another with its own bath. Naki fulfilled her promise to put Lilia’s hair up, combing through a special cream first, then using smooth silver pins that she somehow arranged so they didn’t pull or irritate Lilia’s scalp. Then they hurried downstairs for dinner.

Naki’s father was at the table. Looking down at all the different types of cutlery, Lilia had a moment of panic. A messenger arrived and Lord Leiden stood up. He apologised at leaving them to eat alone and strode away.

As the door of the dining room closed behind him, Naki grinned at Lilia. Without saying a word, she slipped out of her chair and walked quietly to the door. Opening it carefully, she listened. A distant thunk reached Lilia’s ears.

“He’s gone,” Naki announced. “Grab your glass.” She picked up her own glass, freshly filled with wine, then moved to the door the servants had been entering through. As Naki reached it, the door opened and a servant woman carrying a tray of small bowls paused at the threshold.

“We’re coming down,” Naki told her. The woman nodded, then turned and disappeared the way she had come.

Lilia had managed to pick up her glass and slide out of her seat. Naki beckoned, then followed the servant, leading Lilia down a short corridor with a bench and cupboards to one side filled with vessels, cutlery and glasses. The servant woman was descending a stairway at the end. Naki hurried after her.

“I eat downstairs whenever Father isn’t here,” she explained. “Then there’s no need for them to serve the food on the silverware and I have friends to chat to.”

The stairway was long enough that Lilia suspected they were now two floors below the dining room. They entered a kitchen not unlike the one in her childhood home. Three women and a boy were working, their sleeves rolled up and their hair covered with caps that had flaps to tie around behind the ears. Lilia had worn these herself, as a child.

Naki greeted them with an affection that they did not seem surprised at. After introducing them, she moved to a wellworn old table and sat down on one of the stools beside it. Lilia took the stool beside her. She listened to the banter between Naki and her servants and felt at home for the first time in three years.

What a pair we make, she thought. A snootie who’s friendly and kind to servants and a lowie who doesn’t hate the rich. And the Guild – and magic – had brought them together. That’s an interesting idea. I’d have thought it would be having a similar background, from different sides of the situation. But it’s really due to magic. And magic doesn’t discriminate between rich and poor any more than it does between good and bad.

Dannyl looked around, still struggling to believe Tayend had managed it. The Master’s Room of the Guild House was filled with powerful and influential Sachakans. There were Ashaki here who were deadly enemies. They weren’t exactly talking to each other, but they were in the same room, which apparently was a rare thing.

He didn’t manage to get the king here, though. Tayend had said he’d sent an invite, but Achati had warned him that Amakira would not be able to attend. It was probably for the better. When the monarch was among a gathering of so many Ashaki, the inevitable political scheming spoiled the party. Or so Dannyl had heard. He’d never been in a gathering this big, nor any that included the king. The largest had been the greeting party Achati had arranged for Dannyl and Lorkin’s arrival in Arvice.

Dannyl had to admit, he was impressed. Tayend had managed to organise the event within a few days of coming up with the idea of holding a “Kyralian” party. He’d even taught the kitchen slaves to make a few Kyralian dishes to be served in small bowls or plates. He had given up on the idea of having the slaves walk about with food on platters, since they could not put aside their habit of throwing themselves on the floor for him and Dannyl, let alone important Sachakans.

Tayend had even managed to find more sober Kyralian clothing to wear rather than his usual bright and flamboyant garb.

“Next time I’ll have an Elyne party,” Dannyl heard Tayend say. “Or maybe a Lonmar party. At least then the absence of women will suit the theme. You can’t have an Elyne party without a little witty female conversation to liven things up.” Tayend paused to listen to a response Dannyl could not hear, and then smiled. “Then perhaps I’ll train a slave, or import some Elyne women for the day – or mimic one myself! Nothing spared for my Sachakan guests.”

Laughter followed. Dannyl sighed and turned away. He saw Achati talking to Lady Merria and felt a wave of gratitude. She had looked uncomfortable earlier, with the other guests ignoring her. Watching to see what the Sachakans would do when they saw her, Dannyl had noticed less displeasure and more uncertainty in their faces than he’d expected. Not used to women being among their social circle, since talking to someone else’s woman was taboo, they didn’t know what to do about her, so they pretended she wasn’t there.

Achati looked up and beckoned to Dannyl.

“I was just telling Lady Merria of a group of three Sachakan women I know who meet socially.”

“I thought that was frowned upon here.”

“They get away with it because they are widows and a cripple, and because they hate the Traitors. One of the group believes they killed her husband.” Achati smiled. “I thought Lady Merria might like to join them sometimes. She could become very lonely here otherwise.”

Dannyl looked at Merria. “What do you think?”

She nodded. “It would be good to meet some local women.”

Achati smiled and looked at Dannyl. “Should I enquire with them if your assistant would be welcome?”

Belatedly, Dannyl realised Achati was asking his permission, as if Merria’s social life was his responsibility. Amused, he looked at the Healer. She looked a little distant, as if she hadn’t heard the question, but perhaps her lack of expression came from her effort to show nothing of her true feelings.

“Yes, please do,” Dannyl replied.

Achati looked pleased. “Perhaps I can find you something to do, as well,” he murmured. Looking at Dannyl pointedly, he beckoned and headed toward an Ashaki whose partner in conversation had just moved away. Dannyl followed.

“Ashaki Ritova. I was just telling Ambassador Dannyl about your impressive library.”

The Sachakan turned to face Achati. He wore a haughty expression that softened very slightly into respect toward Achati, but returned when he looked at Dannyl.

“Ashaki Achati. You need not boast on my behalf.”

“Yet I always feel inclined to. Surely it is the best collection in Sachaka, aside from the palace library.”

“It is a meagre pile of books in comparison.”

“Even so, I am sure Ambassador Dannyl would be astounded at how old some of your records are.”

The man glanced at Dannyl again. “I doubt you would find anything of interest, Ambassador.” He sighed. “I do not have the time to look in there myself. Too busy discussing treaties with the eastern lands.”

He shook his head and began a long and boring criticism of the peoples the Sachakans traded with over the Aduna Sea. It would have been interesting to learn more about these lands, but Dannyl quickly realised that the Ashaki’s assessment was tainted with dislike and prejudice, and unlikely to be a true description. When Achati finally managed to extract them without insulting Ritova, he apologised.

“I hoped to get something out of that for you,” he murmured. “But he is as stubborn as …”

The Master of War, Kirota, drew near. Seeing Dannyl, he sidled over.

“Ashaki Achati. Ambassador Dannyl. A pleasure to see you again, Ambassador. I hear you and Ambassador Tayend are closely connected. Is this true?”

Dannyl nodded. “We have long been friends. Over twenty years.”

Kirota frowned. “Ambassador Tayend said he lived in Elyne when you first met.”

“Yes, as did I,” Dannyl explained. “I was Guild Ambassador to Elyne. I met Tayend at the Great Library. He assisted me in some research for the Guild.”

“Ah, yes! Tayend mentioned your research. How is it going?”

Dannyl shrugged. “I’ve made little progress recently.”

Kirota nodded sympathetically. “Such is the life of a researcher. A big discovery one moment, long gaps between. I wish you more success soon.”

“Thank you,” Dannyl replied. “You expressed an interest in filling gaps in your own records last time we met,” he added. “My offer to assist still stands.”

The Master of War’s face brightened. “I will be sure to take it up.” His gaze flickered past Dannyl’s shoulder. “Ah. More of those delicious rassook legs. This time I’m determined to get more than one before they all go. I like this Kyralian food.” He grinned and hurried away.

Hearing a chuckle beside him, Dannyl turned to look at Achati. The man smiled.

“You did well there,” he murmured. “It could be that, now that you’re no longer the newest thing to examine, the best way to gain what you need is to trade for it.”

Dannyl nodded and felt his heart lighten a little.

“Though I doubt Kirota can do much for you in return,” Achati warned in a low voice. “Still … consider it an investment.”

As the small flare of hope faded, Dannyl suppressed a sigh. He saw Tayend watching him from the other side of the room, a thoughtful look on his former lover’s face, and suddenly all Dannyl wanted to do was leave the party.

But he had no choice but to stay, so he stiffened his back and followed Achati to the next group of Sachakans.

Lorkin had been expecting luxury and expensive decoration. He had expected the Traitor equivalent of servants hovering about, ready to do their monarch’s bidding, and guards at every door.

But the rooms of the Traitor queen were not much larger or finer than those of the women he had visited while assisting Speaker Kalia in her visits to the sick or pregnant. The only obvious guard was a single magician sitting in the corridor outside, near the door. Maybe the young woman who had answered his knock on the door was a magician, too, though she seemed too young for the role of royal protector. She had greeted him with a cheerful, welcoming smile, introduced herself as Pelaya, then ushered him inside.

Now he stood within a circle of plain wooden chairs. An old woman was standing before one of them as if she had just stood up. She was not dressed in finery, but then she hadn’t been the day of Tyvara’s trial either. If he hadn’t recognised her face, he might have mistaken her for another visitor waiting for the queen.

But her bright eyes were sharp and her stare very direct, and there was something about her composure and focus that spoke of confidence and command. He put a hand to his chest and waited for a response, as he’d been instructed to do when he had first entered the presence of the queen.

She waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t bother with formality in my own home, Lord Lorkin. I am too old and tired for it. Please sit down.” She reached backwards and, with obvious difficulty, began to lower herself onto a chair. He automatically took a step forward to help her, then stopped, not sure if touching her would be inappropriate.

“Wait for me, Zarala,” Pelaya said, her voice gently scolding, as she hurried forward to assist the old queen.

“I’m fine,” Zarala replied. “Just slow.”

Once she was settled, the queen indicated the chair next to hers. Lorkin sat down. The young woman disappeared into another room. The queen regarded him thoughtfully.

“How are you finding living in Sanctuary?”

“It is a wonderful place, your majesty,” he began. “I—”

“No formality,” the queen interrupted, waving a finger at him. “Call me Zarala.”

He nodded. “Zarala. It is a beautiful name.”

She grinned. “I like flattery. It will gain you nothing, though. I am too old for that sort of thing to influence me. Not that you should stop, if you happen to enjoy it.”

“I do,” Lorkin replied. “And should you happen to enjoy it, you are welcome to send some my way, too,” he added quickly.

To his relief, she laughed. “Go on. Tell me how you are doing.”

“I am amazed at Traitor generosity and friendliness. Your people have welcomed me, given me food and shelter, and duties that make me feel useful.”

“Why would you be surprised at that?”

Lorkin shrugged. “For a people so secretive, I would have expected it to take a long time to be so accepted among you.”

She considered him closely. “You know that you haven’t been, don’t you? Fully accepted, that is. A lot of people like you, and a lot appreciate what you did for Tyvara, but nobody is fool enough to trust you yet.”

He nodded and met her gaze. “Yes, I do sense that. It’s understandable. I suppose I am amazed that it isn’t more obvious.”

“I’ve heard only a few reports of people taking a dislike to you personally, but mostly they don’t like you on principle.”

He looked at her. “Because of my father.”

“Yes – and Riva’s death.” All sign of her lighter mood was gone now. The wrinkles across her brows deepened. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what your father did. It is ridiculous to think a child is responsible for what their parent does.”

“I … I am glad you feel that way.”

She leaned forward and patted him on the knee. “I’m sure you are. You’d probably be dead, otherwise.” Humour had re-entered her voice and eyes, and he smiled.

“I don’t resent your father any more either,” she told him, looking away and growing serious again. Serious and sad. “Despite losing a daughter to a sickness that could have been cured. We went about things the wrong way. Something about your father had convinced me he was an honourable man. I thought I’d been wrong, but came to see that perhaps I wasn’t, that I’d failed to see that there would be something he felt a stronger loyalty to.”

“The Guild? Kyralia?” Lorkin suggested.

She looked at him. “You didn’t know about the deal he made, did you?” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “I was appalled to find he made such a bargain and dishonoured it.”

“He died before you were born. I suppose he never got the chance to tell you.”

“And Mother never mentioned it. She couldn’t have known.”

“Why are you so certain?”

“She was determined to stop me going to Sachaka. If she’d had proof I would be in danger from the Traitors, she would have used it.”

“Do you miss her?”

Her stare was very direct. He nodded. “And yet a part of me wants to be … to be …”

“Living your own life? Making your own decisions?”

He nodded.

She waved a hand at the room, or beyond. “And here you are, stuck in Sanctuary.”

“It is a pleasant place to be stuck.”

She smiled approvingly. “I hope you continue to think so.” Her smile faded again. “Because life might not always be so comfortable here for you. I am old. I can’t be certain who will succeed me. All know that Savara is the Speaker I favour to be the next queen, and she likes you, but that does not mean the people will vote for her. They certainly won’t if they come to question my decisions.” She pointed at him. “Like allowing a Kyralian magician into Sanctuary who turned out to be too nosy.”

Her eyes were hard and ever so slightly accusing. His face began to warm and he looked away, not sure what to say.

“But they may be satisfied now that I have brought you in here for a good chiding. Savara has decided that it would be better if she forbids Tyvara from being seen with you, so it is clear that she disapproves of your exploration of the caves.

Lorkin’s heart made a small lurch. But it wasn’t like we were seeing each other anyway, he reminded himself. Zarala smiled and patted him on the knee again. “I have some friendly and free advice for you, young Lorkin. Be careful how much trouble you stir up. It might bring you, and others, a whole lot more than you realise.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I will take your advice. No trouble.”

She looked pleased. “You’re a smart young man. There – I have flattered you in return. Would you like something to eat?” She did not wait for him to reply, but turned in the other direction, toward the inner door.

“Pelaya? Is there anything for our visitor to eat?”

“Of course there is,” the young woman replied. She appeared in the doorway holding a simple wooden tray topped with glasses, water and a bowl of cakes, obviously having been waiting for the queen to call.

the rogue

“Ah, my favourite,” the queen said, rubbing her hands together. She smirked at Lorkin. “Pelaya is a fabulous cook. Does it all with magic.” As the young woman carried the tray into the room, Zarala turned to stare at a nearby small table. It rose in the air and floated toward them, settling before Lorkin.

She may be old and too tired for formality, Lorkin mused, but I can see why she is queen. And I’d wager she’s still as powerful and smart as the day she became one.

As Pelaya set the tray down and offered him a cake, he wondered how much the queen had guessed of his plans, because he doubted she believed he was content to settle into his place among the Traitors forever.

Perhaps she was telling him to hold off on them because he’d have a better chance of success after she died, if Savara succeeded her.

But having met her now, I really like her, and I hope that doesn’t happen very soon.

CHAPTER 5 QUESTIONS, QUESTIONS

As the lamps were lit around the courtyard, Sonea started toward the strangest of the Guild buildings. The Dome wasn’t really a dome, but a full sphere – a hollow ball of solid rock. Since half of it was buried in the ground it had a domelike appearance.

It was as old as the Guild itself. Before the Guild had built the Arena – a shield of magic supported by huge curved struts – the more dangerous fighting lessons had been held inside the Dome. There had been many disadvantages to using the structure for this purpose. Unlike with the Arena, spectators could not watch the lesson inside. The thick walls would never have survived a strong attack, so all practice strikes had to be restrained. The strikes that did hit the walls could heat the stone up, making the interior intolerably hot. And the only way to get fresh air inside was to open the plug-like door.

According to the old records that Akkarin had found, the plug had been knocked out during lessons many times over the years, and once even killed a passing servant. Now it was being held in place by magic. Twice a day it was removed and new air sent into the interior to replace the old. At the same time, food and water was taken in and the bucket that served as a toilet removed and emptied.

Sonea could not help thinking of her experience as a captive rogue. Rothen had kept her in his rooms, slowly gaining her trust with kindness and patience while teaching her about the Guild. But Lorandra was no ignorant young woman, come to magic by accident and of greater danger to herself than the Guild. She had her powers well in check and, with her son, had plotted against the Guild.

Yet I know what it’s like to be locked in the Dome. When the Higher Magicians had discovered that Sonea had learned black magic, they had imprisoned her here for a night, and Akkarin in the Arena, while they roused the Higher Magicians in preparation for their trial. It was stuffy and oppressive. I was in there for only a handful of hours. I can’t imagine what it’s been like to be stuck in there for months.

Sonea took a deep breath and resisted the urge to turn and walk in another direction. While she felt some sympathy toward Lorandra, she was always reluctant to visit the woman. Skellin’s mother had never spoken a word, and hate and fear had radiated from her. The woman’s hate she could live with. It was the uncompromising hate of a mother toward those who would harm her son, and having experienced that emotion herself Sonea figured that it was fair.

No, it was the fear that bothered Sonea. She was used to people being a little afraid of her because of what she had done in her youth and was capable of doing with black magic, but Lorandra’s fear was simple blind terror, and that made irrelevant all Sonea had done in her life to prove that she was an honourable and trustworthy person.

And Cery would have me lie to her.

The two guards standing on either side of the door looked bored and annoyed, but as they saw her approaching they straightened and nodded to her respectfully. Both were male and from the Houses, she noted. So far she hadn’t seen any magicians from the lower classes standing guard. Did Administrator Osen not trust that they would keep a Thief’s mother imprisoned? Surely he wasn’t naïve enough to think that magicians from the higher class were immune from being blackmailed or bribed by the underworld. She stopped and nodded at the door.

“How long since it was last opened?”

“Three hours, Black Magician Sonea,” the taller of the magicians replied.

“Did you get Administrator Osen’s instructions?”

He nodded.

“Good. Let me in.”

The two magicians stared at the door in silent concentration. Instead of swivelling open, it slowly slid forwards, then rolled sideways to lean against the Dome wall. The interior was dark. Lorandra had plenty of power with which to keep her prison lit, but if she used it she always extinguished her light when she heard the door opening. Sonea took a deep breath, created a globe light and sent it before her as she entered.

As always, the woman was sitting on the narrow bed in the centre of the room. Sonea walked down the curved slope of the “floor” and stopped a few steps away. The woman stared back at her, her face expressionless but her eyes dark and unfriendly.

Sonea considered what to say. In the past she’d tried indirectly approaching the questions she most wanted to ask by mingling them with others. Where did roet come from? Was it a drug from their home country? How was it made? Why had Lorandra been buying books on magic? Had she managed to find many? Where were they now? Why did Skellin think the Guild would be fooled into believing Forlie, the hapless woman he had set up as a fake rogue to prevent the Guild capturing his mother, was a magician? Where was Forlie’s family?

Some of the questions were ones to which Sonea already knew the answers, some Sonea already knew Loranda didn’t know the answer to. Cery had recommended this, because it was important to avoid revealing how much the Guild didn’t know.

But Lorandra had said nothing.

So Sonea tried being more direct. Where was Skellin? How long had he lived in Imardin? Which Thieves were his allies? Which Houses were linked to him? Were any Guild magicians under his sway? Did he have allies in Elyne? Lonmar? Sachaka? How many Thieves had she killed? Had she tried to kill Cery? Had she tried to kill Cery’s family?

No shift of expression had betrayed Lorandra’s reaction to that last question. It was the one Sonea most wanted an answer to, aside from the whereabouts of Skellin.

If only Osen had chosen me to read Lorandra’s mind at the Hearing, not Kallen. I could have sought the answer there and nobody would have known I had done so but Lorandra. But that would have meant Forlie’s mind would have been read by Kallen, and Sonea would not have wished that on the poor, frightened woman.

Sonea remembered Lorandra’s dismay and surprise that she could not stop Kallen reading her mind. Hopefully that meant the magicians of Lorandra’s homeland did not know black magic – possibly did not even know of it. From what Kallen had described, Lorandra’s people forbade all magic, though those who imposed the ban were magicians themselves. Lorandra had broken the law and learned magic in secret. It was likely she did not know how powerful the law keepers were.

The Guild is so worried about offending the people of her land if they block her powers, but if what Kallen says is true, the Guild’s very existence would offend them. Lorandra is a criminal there as well as here. They would want not just her, but all of us, executed.

Igra was far away, with a reassuringly big desert between it and the Allied Lands. Chances were nobody there remembered Lorandra, since she had left many years ago, and if they did they probably thought she was dead. It was a pity she hadn’t approached the Guild from the start. They might have taken her in, or allowed her to live in Imardin with some sort of arrangement that allowed her restricted use of magic. Instead she’d adopted the life of an assassin and, with her son, made herself rich by selling roet.

Sonea thought of all the people who had suffered and died because of this woman. This time she didn’t push away the anger that rose or try to retain some compassion. This time she let it harden her resolve.

“I’m not here to question you,” Sonea told the woman quietly. “I’m here to inform you that the Guild will block your powers soon. You won’t be able to use magic. The good news is that you won’t be stuck in here any more. I can’t tell you what they’ll do with you after that, but they won’t be setting you free within the Allied Lands.”

Lorandra’s expression shifted slightly, from hatred to worry, and Sonea felt a surge of triumph far stronger than the change deserved. She turned away and stepped toward the door. A raspy croak sounded behind her and she paused, then forced herself on.

“Wait.”

Sonea stopped and turned. Lorandra’s dark eyes caught the light as she lifted her head.

“Will it hurt?” she asked in a whispery voice.

Sonea stared back at her. “Why should I answer your questions when you’ve answered none of mine?”

Lorandra’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Sonea turned away, then stopped and looked back.

“Not if you don’t fight it,” she told the woman quietly, so the guards couldn’t hear. Lorandra’s eyes swivelled to meet hers. “And … and it is reversible,” Sonea added in an even quieter voice.

She made herself turn away and step out of the door, wondering if what she had seen in the woman’s eyes was hope or suspicion.

“The first thing you need to remember is that pregnancy is not an illness or an injury,” Lady Indria told the class. “But there are many problems that can arise from pregnancy and childbirth. Unlike the majority of conditions that hamper or prevent pregnancy, which we have covered so far this year, the problems of pregnancy and childbirth can cause death, to either mother or child, or both.”

Lilia glanced at her friends. Both Froje and Madie were sitting with straight backs, listening to Lady Indria intently. They’re almost as captivated as they were during the lessons on preventing pregnancy, Lilia mused. She looked around the room. Most of the novices looked interested in the lesson. Even the boys were, which surprised her even though all Healers were expected to learn how to advise a mother and deliver a baby.

A few of the girls had been missing from class until now. All were snooties. The Houses had never objected to their daughters learning how to prevent conception until it had become an official part of the University’s Healing lessons. No parents of lowies had raised the slightest fuss. They couldn’t afford to raise grandchildren while their daughters finished their education in the Guild.

I should find this more interesting than I do, Lilia thought. I suppose I would, if I was in love with someone or likely to get married soon. That would give me reason to think about the future, and of having children. Right now that all seems so unlikely. Madie may be right when she says you can’t tell when you’ll find someone special, but even if that someone came along next week I doubt I’ll want to have children for many years yet.

She still needed to pay attention, though, because if she was to become a Healer she’d have to be able to help pregnant women. Forcing herself to listen, she started taking notes. When Lady Indria finally stopped lecturing and began answering questions, Lilia felt Madie’s breath on her cheek as the girl leaned toward her.

“You meeting Naki tonight?” Madie murmured.

Lilia smiled. “Yeah. She’s going to help me practise curved strikes.”

Madie drew in a breath to say something more, then made a small noise of frustration.

“What?” Lilia asked, looking up.

Her friend’s face was taut with indecision and worry.

“What?” Lilia repeated.

Madie sighed and glanced around the class. She leaned even closer.

“People are starting to notice you hanging out with her. You must know what they’re saying.”

Lilia’s stomach swooped lower, a sensation that left her nauseated.

“What are they saying?” she forced herself to ask.

“That you and her …” Madie straightened suddenly as Indria spoke her name. Lilia listened as her friend answered the Healer’s question. The teacher gave Lilia a stern look, then turned away and resumed her lecture.

Lilia leaned closer to Madie.

“What are they saying?”

“Sh. I’ll tell you later.”

For the rest of the class Lilia found it twice as hard to concentrate as before. What could people possibly find to gossip about concerning her friendship with Naki? Was it the lowie/snootie thing? Did it have anything to do with Naki’s father? Naki had said he disapproved of lowies. Maybe he was threatening to stop Naki seeing Lilia.

By the time the University gong rang out, Lilia’s notes were a fragmented mess and her thoughts not much better. She followed Madie and Froje out of the classroom.

“Well?” she prompted.

The two girls exchanged looks. Madie’s expression was almost pleading. Froje’s was expectant. Madie turned to smile thinly at Lilia.

“We’d better do this before we join the boys.” She glanced around the hallway, then led Lilia and Froje into an empty classroom, checking to make sure there was nobody there. She turned to Lilia.

“It’s said … people say …” She paused and shook her head. “Naki doesn’t like boys.”

“Well, she likes them, but not in the way that girls are supposed to like them,” Froje injected.

“She likes girls.” Madie looked at Lilia, then away.

“In a way that girls are not supposed to.”

A strained silence followed. Lilia found that she was not surprised. She was certainly not as shocked as they expected her to be. As a servant, she had seen and heard many things that novices who had grown up in more sheltered homes didn’t know about. Her father had told her not to judge people too quickly.

Though they weren’t looking at her, expectation flowed from Lilia’s friends. As the silence lengthened, Lilia felt a rising panic. She should react, or they’d think she already knew.

And approved.

“Um,” she began.

“You know what we mean, don’t you. Girls who like girls in the way that boys—” Madie began.

“I know what you mean,” Lilia interrupted. She bit her lip. “Is it true? I mean, people make these things up all the time – especially about people who they resent for something. Like being beautiful and rich. Or for not being interested in them. Naki’s turned away a lot of boys – or so I’ve heard. That might make her just seem to like girls more.”

The two girls frowned and exchanged another look.

“I think so,” Madie said, though her tone held a hint of doubt.

“There’s a story that she and one of her servants were … you know,” Froje said, her voice hard with dislike. “But the servant wanted to end it. Naki found out. She set things up so her father would discover them together. He threw the servant and her entire family onto the street. My cousin knows the family. He swears it’s true.”

The pair looked at Lilia. She stared back at them. Her heart was quietly racing in her chest. She felt her friendship with Naki slipping away, and she didn’t like the feeling. The story about the servant was disturbing. Could Naki have been so malicious and vengeful? Maybe it’s an exaggeration, made up by servants angry at being thrown out – probably for a more deserving reason. She hated herself for thinking that, but she knew that not all servants were honest and loyal.

Maybe her friends were jealous of Lilia finding a prettier, richer friend than they were. Well, they shouldn’t have started completely ignoring me once they got their boys. But she couldn’t say that. It would make her liking Naki seem even more suspicious. Perhaps she could say something to help Naki. To help dispel the rumour.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she told them. “Naki doesn’t like her father. Why would she trust him to know that about her? More likely the servant was thrown out for another reason; made up a story to make Naki look bad.”

Froje and Madie looked thoughtful. They exchanged another look, this time doubtful. Then Madie smiled and turned to Lilia.

“Well, you’re probably right. You know her personally; we only know the stories.” She frowned. “But even if it’s not true, we are still worried about you. People are going to talk.”

Lilia shrugged. “Let them. They’ll get tired of it eventually. Why should Naki have no friends because of nasty rumour?”

She turned and started toward the door. The two girls hesitated, then Lilia heard them following. She also heard a fainter sound. A quick whisper.

“Why are you bothering? We’re not good enough for her now.”

Lilia continued out into the corridor, pretending she hadn’t heard, but she felt a bitter triumph. I’m right. They’re jealous. Yet she also had to hide a pang of guilt as the girls joined her. It was true. Naki was a more interesting and exciting friend than they had ever been, even when they weren’t distracted by the boys.

Especially if what they say about her is true.

She didn’t want to think about that now. Not because she feared the stories might be true, but because she feared that her friends would somehow sense the simmering excitement that their warning had stirred deep within her. And because of the inevitable questions the feeling led to.

What if it is true of me, as well?

All she knew for certain was that she did not feel the distaste she ought to, and that was something she would never be able to tell her friends – or anybody else. Perhaps not even Naki.

As the Guild’s carriage rolled through the streets of Arvice, Dannyl noted that Lady Merria was drinking in the sights with hungry eyes. Though she had only arrived ten days ago, she was already feeling the boredom of being stuck in the Guild House most of the time.

Or perhaps she is merely fascinated by a new place, Dannyl mused. It could be that I’m the only one feeling stuck.

Either way, she had been thrilled at the idea of visiting the market. Tayend had suggested it the previous night, before he’d headed off for another evening of fine food and company with one Ashaki or another. Dannyl hadn’t yet seen the market, since anything he required was always quickly brought to the Guild House by slaves, so the visit was merely for entertainment – and perhaps education, too. Maybe he’d learn something about Sachaka, and of the lands it traded with in the east.

“How did your visit with the women Achati recommended go?” Dannyl asked.

Merria glanced at him and smiled. “Good, I think. They all believe that the husband of one of the widows was killed by the Traitors, and yet only the widow displays any convincing hatred. I suspect that there’s more to it than they’re saying. One of the others hinted to me that she whined so much about him that the Traitors thought she was serious about wanting to be free of him.”

“So either the Traitors made a mistake, or she tricked them, or something else has forced her to claim to hate them to protect herself.”

Merria gave him a thoughtful look. “I really need to train myself to see all the complicated twisted possibilities in these situations, don’t I?”

He shrugged. “It never hurts. It’s also wise to not get too attached to anyone.”

She nodded and looked back out of the window, thankfully missing Dannyl’s wince as he realised the truth of his own words.

I shouldn’t get attached to Achati for the same reason. But who else is there to talk to? I do like him a great deal – and not just because he’s continued to associate with me even though I’ve become a social embarrassment here.

“Is that the market?” Merria asked.

Dannyl moved closer to the window on his side and peered at the road ahead. It ended where it met a crossroad. On the opposite side was a high white wall, broken by a plain archway through which a steady stream of people were passing. Those coming out were followed by slaves carrying boxes, baskets, sacks and rolled-up rugs. Both roads were lined with waiting carriages.

“I’d wager it is.”

Sure enough, the carriage swung in a wide turn at the meeting of roads so that it stopped before the archway. It was now the subject of much staring and pointing. Merria reached out to the carriage door, then paused and withdrew her hand.

“You had better go first, Ambassador,” she said.

He smiled grimly and waited for one of the slaves to clamber down and open the door. The man threw himself to the ground as Dannyl stepped out. A small crowd had gathered to watch, and a low murmur came from them as he appeared. But as Merria appeared, the sound rose to a louder hum of interest. She paused on the top step, frowning.

“Ignore them,” Dannyl advised, offering a hand. “Don’t meet anyone’s eyes.”

She lowered her gaze and took his offered hand for support, but stepped down with dignity. Dannyl resisted a smile. Merria had told him she was a ship captain’s daughter, which meant that while she hadn’t been raised in squalor or poverty she also hadn’t had the upbringing of a woman from the Houses. Yet she had studied the mannerisms and manners of those from the upper class when she joined the Guild, and learned to mimic them. Such a knack for adaptation would be very useful to her, both here and back in Imardin.

Dannyl released her hand, instructed the slave to move the carriage to an appropriate place out of the way of traffic to wait for them, then started toward the market entrance. The other slave leapt off the carriage to follow them.

Two guards watched the entrance, both eyeing Dannyl and Merria without expression.

They must be free servants, Dannyl thought. Like those at the palace.

Once through the archway he and Merria entered a market laid out in straight rows. The stalls on the outside, built against the walls, were permanent structures. The centre space was filled with neat lines of temporary carts and tables, most covered with a roof of cloth. He started along the first row.

Merria continued to be more interesting to the locals than Dannyl. Most likely they had never seen a Kyralian woman before, whereas Kyralian males were merely rare. He found that he was in the opposite position to Merria. He’d rarely seen Sachakan women before this. No women worked in the stalls, but plenty roamed the market, each with a male chaperone. They wore highly decorated capes that fell from their shoulders to their ankles.

He did not want to raise the ire of the locals by staring at their women, so he turned his attention to the wares on offer. Perfume, elaborate glassware, artistic pottery and fine cloth surrounded them. They had obviously entered at the luxury end of the market. Thinking back, he realised he hadn’t seen anyone carrying vegetables or herding animals out of the archway. When they reached the end of one aisle, he squinted down the rows ahead. Sure enough, there were more practical goods on sale at the far end. Perhaps there was another entrance catering for that sort of produce.

They started down another aisle, stopping to look at goods from lands across the Aduna Sea. Merria was particularly impressed with the glassware. In the third aisle they were both instantly drawn to a stall covered in a glittering array of gemstones in all colours. But while Merria gazed at the stones, what had caught Dannyl’s eye were the stallholders, as he instantly recognised the dusty grey skin and long limbs of Duna tribesmen.

At once he remembered the Duna tracker, Unh, who had helped him, Achati and the Ashaki helpers to search for Lorkin. He also recalled the cave he and Unh had discovered in the mountains, its walls covered in crystals. Dannyl had learned that the tribesmen knew how to turn such crystals into magical gemstones. He eyed the glittering stones before him thoughtfully.

Surely they wouldn’t sell the magical ones here. He looked closer. The abundance on display and the roughness of their cutting suggested that these weren’t of much value beyond ordinary trinkets.

“You like?” a tribesman said, leaning toward Merria and smiling broadly.

She nodded. “They’re pretty. How much are––?”

“Do you have any finer gems?” Dannyl interrupted. “Or ones set into jewellery, or other objects?”

The man gave Dannyl a piercingly direct look, then shook his head. “People here not like our way of setting.”

Dannyl smiled. “We are not from here.”

The man grinned. “No, you are not.” He looked from Merria to Dannyl, then beckoned. “Come inside.”

They moved around the table and entered the shade under the roof covering. Watched by his frowning companion, the tribesman opened a dusty old bag and drew out two large bands. He lifted them up so Dannyl and Merria could see. They were made of some sort of unpolished, darkened metal, lined with leather. Gemstones glittered within crude settings. Small metal tags hung from holes around one edge of each band.

“They go here.” The man pointed to a place just above the knee. “And more here and one here.” He touched his skin above the elbow and then the cloth wrapped about his hips. “For ceremony we rub,” he mimicked a circular motion, “so they shine. But let go dark other times so not so …” He waved at his face, widening his eyes. Dazzling, Dannyl translated.

“That must look wonderful,” Merria said.

The man grinned and nodded at her. “We dance. If we dance well women choose us.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman married a man for jewellery,” Merria remarked, glancing at Dannyl. “What do women wear?” she asked the man.

The tribesman shook his head. “Just belt. Very plain. Over cloth …” He gestured in a sweeping motion from neck to knee.

Merria looked disappointed. “No jewellery? No gems?”

“Gems on belt.”

“I’d love to see one of these ceremonies.” Merria sighed wistfully. “Is this expensive?” She nodded to the leg bands.

“This one not for sale. But we bring one that is next time? Maybe belt, too.”

“I’d like that.” She glanced back at the table of gems. “So … how much are they?”

They returned to the table and a bit of haggling followed. Dannyl suspected that the tribesman let her beat him down to a lower price than he would usually accept. As the transaction finished, Dannyl decided that he could not leave without asking after the tracker.

“Do you know Unh?” he asked. “He works as a tracker.”

The man’s grin vanished, then returned looking unconvincing and forced.

“No.” He glanced back at the other tribesman, who was now scowling. The man shook his head. “No.”

Dannyl nodded and shrugged, then thanked them for showing Merria the bands. The pair replied with fixed smiles. Dannyl led Merria away.

“Who is Unh?” she asked, when they were out of earshot.

“The tracker who helped us search for Lorkin.”

“Ah.” She glanced back. “Is it only me that got the impression they do know him, but don’t like him very much.”

“Not just you.”

“How interesting,” she murmured. “I hope this doesn’t mean they won’t bring some of those bands for me.”

They turned a corner and started down the next row. Dannyl looked up and came to a halt as he saw what lay before them.

Stalls filled with books, scrolls and writing implements lined each side of the aisle. He looked from side to side, his eyes drawn to piles of promising old tomes. Suddenly he knew why there had been a slight hint of smugness in Tayend’s tone when suggesting a market visit.

It wasn’t just that he’d suggested something I hadn’t thought of. He knew I’d find this. He’s probably been here already, what with his fondness for silly or exotic trinkets, and he probably guessed that I hadn’t. He felt a pang of fondness for his former lover, but it was followed by a mix of guilt and annoyance that was growing familiar since Tayend had arrived in Arvice. I’m going to have to thank him for this. I wish the prospect didn’t fill me with doubt and dread.

“I may take some time here,” he told Merria apologetically.

She smiled. “I thought you might. It’s fine. Anything you want me to look for?”

CHAPTER 6 A WARNING

As Lorkin paused in his work, he noted that more than half of the beds in the Care Room were occupied, though most of the patients would probably leave once they’d seen Kalia. Nearly every person had the same or similar illness. Even in isolated, remote Sanctuary, people came down with sniffles and coughs each winter. They called it “chill fever”.

The treatment was so trusted and familiar that few questions were asked. Kalia’s examination of those claiming to have the illness was perfunctory, and she rarely needed to explain the cures she handed out.

This was Kalia’s area of expertise. Lorkin was given the task of looking after anyone who came in with other injuries or illness. No sufferer of chill fever ever approached him. If Kalia was occupied, they settled onto a bed and watched her patiently, only occasionally glancing at him in curiosity.

The main cures were a chest rub and a bitter-tasting tea. Children were given sweets to suck if they wouldn’t drink the tea. The sweets were still quite strong and unpleasant, so that only those who truly had the sickness – and whose sense of taste was dulled – could tolerate them. Enough tea and sweets were handed out to last patients a few days. They had to return to be examined again, if they needed more.

It was the first time he’d seen the Traitors so strictly rationing their supplies. He knew that food stores would have to be monitored and controlled in order for the valley’s produce to sustain the people through the winter, but so far he hadn’t seen any tough restrictions coming into effect. They were talked about, however, and anyone seen to be eating more than was considered reasonable was treated with a teasing disapproval, but also an underlying tone of warning.

No magicians had come to the Care Room with chill fever, since they were naturally resistant to illnesses, so Lorkin was surprised to see one of them entering the room, her nose and eyelids a tell-tale shade of red. He turned back to the task of re-bandaging the ulcerated leg of an old man. The man chuckled.

“Thought she was a magician, didn’t you?” he croaked.

Lorkin smiled. “Yes,” he admitted.

“No. Her mother is. Sister is. Grandmother was. She isn’t, but she likes to pretend she is.”

“In the Allied Lands, all magicians have to wear a uniform so everyone knows what they are. It’s illegal to dress as a magician if you are not one.”

The old man smiled thinly. “Oh, they wouldn’t like that here.”

“Because it would make it obvious that not everyone is equal?”

The man snorted. “No, because they don’t like being told what to do.”

Lorkin laughed quietly. He secured the bandage and slipped the old man an extra dose of pain cure. What will I do if we run out of it, and other cures?

He could start to Heal patients, but the timing would not be good. If I’m forced to use my Healing powers it should be for a better reason than because I let us run out of cures.

“Have you ever been to the old viewing rooms high above the city?” the old man asked.

“The ones that were made long before the Traitors discovered the valley?”

“Yes. A friend of yours told me she was going there. Said to tell you.”

Lorkin stared at the old man, then smiled and looked away.

“She did, did she?”

“And I need help getting back to my room.”

Kalia didn’t look suspicious when Lorkin told her the man wanted his help, but she did tell him to return as quickly as possible. Once they had walked a few hundred paces, the old man told Lorkin he was fine to continue on his own, but Lorkin insisted on accompanying him all the way to his room. Only then did Lorkin hurry away to the viewing rooms. He had to climb several stairs to get there, and by the time he arrived at the door to the first room he was breathing heavily.

Once he had passed through the heavy door his exhal ations became billowing clouds of mist. The air was very cold, and he quickly created a magical barrier around himself and warmed the air within it. The room was long and narrow, the only furniture some rough wooden benches stacked up against the back wall. Glassless windows were spaced along the length.

A woman leaned against the window edge, and this time his heart flipped over at the sight of her. Tyvara smiled faintly. He managed to restrain the urge to grin in return.

“Why don’t they fill them in with glass?” Lorkin asked, waving to the openings. “It would be a lot easier to heat the space.”

“We don’t have the materials to make that much glass,” she told him, walking forward to meet him.

“You could bring some up here from the lowlands.”

She shook her head. “It’s not important enough to risk discovery over.”

“Surely you’ve brought materials up here before?”

“A few times. We prefer to find out how to make things ourselves, or do without. We don’t do without much, really.” She beckoned him over to a window. The valley below was now covered in snow, the cliff walls rising stark and grey above the spread of white. “Did Evar tell you that we grow plants in caves lit and heated by stones?”

“No.” He felt his curiosity spark. “Is that also how you protect the animals during winter – keeping them in caves?”

“Yes, though they are mostly fed grain and we will cull some and freeze the meat once it’s cold enough to make ice caves.”

“Ice caves. I would like to see them,” he said wistfully. “But I don’t expect anybody is going to take me on any tours of the caves of Sanctuary for a while.”

She shook her head. “No.” A frown creased her forehead and she looked away. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”

“I know. Yet here we are.”

She smiled faintly, then grew serious again.

“Have you seen Evar recently?”

He shook his head. “Have you?”

“Yes. But I am worried about him.”

Lorkin felt a stab of concern. “Why?”

She looked at him, her expression doubtful. But it wasn’t self-doubt, or indecision. She seemed to be weighing up whether to tell him something.

“I have a warning to give you, but I have to be indirect, and I don’t want you interpreting it in other ways.” She glanced around the room, then leaned toward him and lowered her voice despite there being nobody else in the room. “Women may try to lure you into their bed in the next few weeks. Don’t accept any invites – unless you’re absolutely sure they’re not magicians.”

He stared back at her, fighting the urge to grin.

“Some already have. I didn’t—”

“That’s different,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “This is … they won’t be doing it because they like you. More the opposite.” She looked at him closely, her expression serious. “Will you heed my warning?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling and hoping it looked like one of gratitude rather than glee. She’s jealous. She wants me all for herself.

“You’re taking it the wrong way,” she told him, her eyes narrowing. “There truly is a risk. What they could be planning can be dangerous. It can kill.”

At that he felt his smug jubilation melt away and his stomach plummeted as he suddenly understood what she was alluding to: Lover’s Death.

“They’re planning to assassinate me?”

She shook her head. “No. That is against the law. But if you accidentally died, particularly in that way …” She let the sentence hang, merely spreading her hands in a helpless gesture. “The punishment is a lot milder.”

He nodded and met her gaze, now able to keep his face straight with no effort. “I will not bed any Traitors until you say I can.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped away toward the door. “It’s only the magicians you have to be wary of, Lorkin. What you do with the rest is not my business. Though it would be appreciated if you did what’s necessary to prevent siring a whole lot of children, because we already have a lot of mouths to feed.” She looked back at him. “I have to go now.”

“And I must get back to the Care Room, too.” He sighed. “Not for love of Kalia’s company, but I suspect this chill fever is going to get much worse.”

She nodded, her eyes warm with approval, but then her expression became sad. “It happens every year. Always kills a few. Usually the old, young, or those who are already weakened by sickness. You had better be ready for that.”

He nodded to show he understood. “Thanks for the warning.” He smiled. “Both of them.”

She smiled in return. Together they headed for the door and the warmth of the stairs beyond. She told him to go first, so that they wouldn’t be seen re-entering the city together. He glanced back once to see her staring far beyond the walls surrounding her, looking both worried and determined. He felt his heart lift again. She had come to see him, defying orders to avoid him. He hoped her defiance wouldn’t be noticed, and that she would search him out again.

“So when is Lord Dorrien setting out for home?” Jonna asked as she gave the wine glasses a last rub with her polishing cloth.

“Tomorrow morning,” Sonea replied. She looked up at her aunt and servant, and caught a strange look on the older woman’s face. “What?”

Jonna shook her head, set the wineglass down and scanned Sonea’s guest room. She moved to the low table where the evening’s meal would be served and began polishing the cutlery. Again. “Nothing important. Just thinking about ways things could have been.”

Sonea sighed and crossed her arms. “Are you still lamenting that I didn’t marry Dorrien?”

Jonna spread her hands in protest. “He is a very nice man.”

Oh, no. Not this again. “He is,” Sonea agreed. “But if I had married him I’d have moved to the country and you’d have never seen me.”

“Nonsense,” Jonna replied, her eyes flashing with triumph. “The Guild would never have let you out of their sight.”

“Which would have forced Dorrien to stay here, and that would have been a cruel thing to do to him. He doesn’t like the city.”

Jonna shrugged. “He might change his mind when he gets old.”

“That’s a long—”

A knock at the door interrupted Sonea. She abandoned the old argument with relief and sent a little magic to the door latch. It clicked open and the door swung inward to reveal Regin standing outside.

“Black Magician Sonea,” he said. “May I speak with you privately?”

“Lord Regin!” Sonea said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Come in!”

He stepped into the guest room and glanced at Jonna as the woman slipped into Sonea’s bedroom to give them privacy. Then the items on the table caught his eye.

“You’re expecting guests,” he observed. “I had best not linger.” He straightened and met her gaze. “I’m here to tell you that a family matter has arisen that is going to take up much of my time and attention, and since I will not be able to reliably offer you my help in hunting and – more import antly – capturing the Thief Skellin then I feel you will be better served by another assistant.”

Sonea stared at him in dismay. “Oh,” she said. “That’s …” She felt briefly disorientated. What was she going to do without Regin to help her catch Skellin? I thought our search couldn’t be going any worse. She shook her head. I can’t believe this, but I’m going to sorely regret losing Regin’s help. “That’s a great shame,” she said. “I’ve appreciated your help and wish you were able to continue assisting me. But your family should have first claim on your attention,” she added quickly.

His smile was rather grimace-like. He almost seemed to wince. “They always do.”

“I hope this matter resolves itself quickly and painlessly.”

“I dou— …” Regin’s voice faded to silence as another knock came from the door. He glanced at it, then turned back to her and inclined his head. “It was a pleasure working with you, Black Magician Sonea. I had best be leaving you to your guests.”

Sonea opened the door again. In the corridor outside, Rothen and Dorrien waited. They saw Regin and curiosity sparked in their gazes as they nodded to him politely.

“Lord Regin,” they murmured.

“Lord Rothen, Lord Dorrien. I am just leaving. Enjoy your meal.” As they stepped back, Regin moved past them. Sonea heard his footsteps in the corridor as he walked away, then her guests came inside and closed the door.

“Any news?” Rothen asked.

Sonea shook her head. “Not of the kind we want. On the contrary, Regin can’t help us any more. A family matter, he says.”

“Oh.” Rothen frowned in dismay.

“That’s what I said. Though in a more formal and verbose manner that included my gratitude and regret, of course.”

“Of course.” Rothen chuckled, but his frown quickly returned. “What will we do without him?”

Dorrien looked from his father to Sonea. “You needed his help that badly?”

“Not so much for the searching,” Rothen replied. “Cery is in a better position to do that. For the actual capture of Skellin.”

Sonea waved them to their seats. Jonna reappeared from the bedroom and raised an eyebrow at Sonea. At Sonea’s nod she left to get the meal that was being prepared for them.

“So it doesn’t have to be Regin. Could I take his place?” Dorrien asked, looking from Rothen to Sonea.

Sonea frowned. “You have to get back to your village.”

“Yes, but I could make arrangements and return.” He smiled at her. “There’s a Healer living in another village about half a day’s ride away. We have an agreement that we’ll look after the other’s patients whenever we go to the city.”

“But this could take a lot longer than a few weeks,” Sonea warned.

“You should not leave Alina and the girls for too long either,” Rothen agreed. He turned to Sonea. “I can help when the time comes.”

“No—” Sonea began.

“You don’t know how powerful Skellin is,” Dorrien interrupted, frowning at his father in disapproval. “What if he is stronger than you? You’re not as powerful as Lord Regin. You said so yourself.”

“I’ll be with Sonea.”

“What if you’re not? What if you two are separated?” Dorrien shook his head. “It’s too risky for you, Father.”

Sonea nodded. She didn’t agree with Dorrien’s reasoning, since Rothen wasn’t any less powerful than the average magician, but Rothen was getting old and physically slower, which might be a problem if they had to chase someone.

“You’re not much stronger than me,” Rothen pointed out.

“But I am stronger,” Dorrien said. He looked at Sonea, his gaze bright. “Alina and I have been thinking we should move to the city for a while so that Tylia can get used to life here before she joins the University. We intended to at least stay here for the first few months after Tylia starts lessons.” He turned to his father. “I’ve already told Lady Vinara of my plans, though no specific dates as yet. It would not be difficult to move here earlier.”

Rothen regarded his son without speaking, obviously caught up in conflicting emotions. He would love to see more of his grandchildren, Sonea guessed, but doesn’t want to agree to something that could put his son’s life at risk.

Her own heart had lifted at the thought. It would be nice to have Dorrien around for longer than his usual visits to the Guild. She could do with his help, too. Though she, too, would rather not put him at risk, she’d also rather not put anybody at risk. At least he was willing to work with her and sensible enough to know when to keep secrets.

The tense silence was broken by yet another knock at the door. As it opened, three servants, led by Jonna, filed in carrying platters of food. Jonna’s eyebrows rose when none of them spoke. She gave Sonea a look that said “I’ll be back to find out what all this is about”, before she left, taking her assistants with her.

When the door had closed, Sonea leaned forward and began serving.

“I wonder what family matters we have to blame for taking Regin away from us,” she said.

Rothen looked thoughtful. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t stopped going to the Night Room to listen to the gossip.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Dorrien said, shrugging.

“In one night?” Sonea scoffed.

Dorrien’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “When you only visit the Guild for a few weeks a year, everyone falls over themselves to fill you in on the latest scandals. I’ll have to leave you both a little earlier tonight to be there at the right time, but if there’s an answer to be had I’ll have it for you tomorrow morning.”

Soft, slippery cloth cascaded over Lilia’s head and tumbled toward the floor, but at the last moment it was pulled tight at her waist and swung into artful folds. Naki stepped back.

“It fits perfectly.” There was amusement and annoyance in her voice, and she crossed her arms and affected a pout. “It’s not fair. I’ve grown out of everything, and there’s no point giving it to you because we’ll never get to wear gowns again.” Then she smiled. “You look great. Go take a peek in the mirror.”

Lilia approached the mirror hesitantly and stared at herself. She didn’t quite fill out the chest of the dress, but that could be fixed with some padding. Though she had often seen her former employer’s wife and daughters dressed so fancily, she would have never dared try on their clothing.

“You look beautiful,” Naki said, coming up behind Lilia. She placed her hands on Lilia’s shoulders. Her fingers were cold, and sent a shiver down Lilia’s spine. She remembered what Madie and Froje had said about her new friend, then quickly pushed the thought away.

Naki frowned. “You’re all tense. What’s wrong? Is it uncomfortable?”

Lilia shook her head. “I feel … well … we’re doing something forbidden. Magicians are supposed to always wear robes.”

Naki’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “I know. It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”

Looking at her friend’s grin, Lilia could not help smiling. “Yes, but that’s only because nobody else can see us.”

“It’s our naughty secret,” Naki said, turning away. She stooped to grab the hem of her dress and hauled it up and over her head in one movement. Underneath she was wearing only an undershift, and Lilia quickly averted her eyes.

“In fact, you should do something really naughty,” Naki continued as she shrugged into her novice overrobe. “Then you’ll be able to do mildly naughty things like this and not get all uptight about it.” She paused to think, then grinned. “I know just the thing. Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

Naki disappeared through the main door to her bedroom. Taking the opportunity to change while her friend wasn’t watching, Lilia slipped off the dress and hurriedly changed into her robes. As she was tying the sash, Naki returned carrying a small black object. She held it up with a triumphant flourish.

It was like a metal bird cage, only smaller and chunkier. Lilia stared at it in bemusement. Naki laughed. She gave the cage a direct look, and smoke began curling out of the openings. Understanding came to Lilia in a rush of realisation, dismay and curiosity.

“It’s a roet brazier!”

“Of course.” Naki rolled her eyes. “You’re so innocent, Lilia. It’s hard to believe you are a daughter of a servant family.”

“My family’s employer didn’t approve of roet.”

Naki shrugged. “Lots of people don’t. They don’t trust new things. Eventually they’ll see that roet isn’t any worse than wine – and in some ways is better. You don’t get hangovers.” She began scooping the air toward herself and breathing deeply. After a few breaths she closed her eyes and sighed with appreciation. Her gaze was dark and seductive as she looked at Lilia, and beckoned. “Come closer. Try it.”

Lilia obeyed. She leaned toward the brazier and breathed deeply. A fragrant smoke filled her lungs. She coughed, and Naki covered her mouth and giggled. Instead of feeling hurt that her friend had laughed at her, Lilia found she didn’t mind. More smoke filled her chest. Her head began to spin.

“I found a great place for this last time,” Naki said, moving to her bed. She hung the brazier on a clothes hanger, pushing the dresses to the other end of the rail. Then she flopped on the bed.

Lilia laughed again. Turning to smile at her, Naki patted the bedcovers. “Come lie down. It’s very relaxing.”

To Lilia’s relief, the prospect of lying on a bed next to Naki roused only a mild, distant echo of the nervousness she would have once felt. She sank onto the mattress beside her friend.

“Still worried about getting into trouble?” Naki asked.

“No. Suddenly I don’t care about anything.”

“That’s what roet does. It stops you caring. Stops you worrying.” She turned her head to regard Lilia. “You seem worried a lot lately.”

“Yes.”

“What about?”

“The girls in my class. The ones that were my friends. They said things about you.”

Naki laughed. “I bet they did. What did they say?”

Why did I say that? Curse it. I can’t tell her … or can I? It would be good to know the truth … “That … that you like women. Instead of men. I mean …” Lilia took a deep breath and coughed again as the smoke filled her lungs. “I mean you prefer women lovers the way some men prefer male lovers.” She covered her mouth with a hand. Why did I do that? Why did I just blurt it out? Naki is going to hate me!

But Naki only laughed again. A carefree, mischievous laugh. “I bet that gave them interesting dreams for months.”

Lilia chuckled. She tried to imagine Froje and Madie daydreaming about … no, don’t think about it.

“You want to know if it’s true.”

Lilia blinked in surprise, then turned her head to look at Naki.

Her friend met her eyes and smiled. “It is. And it is for you, isn’t it? Or … you’re not sure.”

Face burning with sudden heat, Lilia looked away. “I …”

“Go on. You can tell me.”

“Well … I think so … um … any advice about that?”

Naki turned over and pushed herself up into a sitting position. “My advice is to not worry about it.” She reached up and unhooked the brazier. It had stopped smoking. “Women have fallen in love with women for centuries. Men always assumed they were just close friends. Which is the opposite to men, who can’t be close friends for fear others will think they’re really in love.” She giggled, then got off the bed and beckoned. “Girls like us can keep secrets easily because nobody pays us the attention they should. Let’s go to the library.”

Lilia sat up, then paused and closed her eyes as her head began to spin. “The library? Why the library? Why now?”

“Because there’s something I want to show you before Father gets home. I want some more roet.”

“You keep roet in the library?”

“Father does.”

“Your father uses roet?”

Naki gave a humourless laugh. “Of course he does.”

She led the way out of her rooms and through corridors and down staircases. Lilia wondered what time it was. Late enough that there were no servants about, it seemed.

“My father’s family have lots of sordid habits,” Naki said. “For my uncle it was girls. I don’t mean he likes women a lot. I mean he likes little girls. The servants knew and kept me out of his way whenever he came visiting. Father never believed me when I told him.”

Lilia shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

Naki glanced back and smiled, but her eyes were hard. “Oh, he paid for it in the end.” She turned away and stopped at a door. “Here we are.”

She pushed through the door into an enormous room. Lilia could not restrain a gasp as she took in all the shelves stuffed with books and rolls of paper. She had learned quickly that Naki thought that appearing to be too interested in study was boring, but she couldn’t contain her awe and delight now.

“I thought you’d like it.”

Lilia looked at Naki, who was grinning widely, and pretended to look embarrassed.

Naki laughed. “You’re a terrible actor. Come see something.”

She headed for a glass-topped side table. Lilia saw that the glass covered a drawer-like cavity filled with very old books, scrolls, a few sculptures and some jewellery. Naki ran her hand down the narrow side. There was a soft click.

“Father has the top locked with both key and magic, but he’s not so powerful a magician that he’d waste magic protecting the whole case,” Naki murmured. She reached inside and drew out a small book, then handed it to Lilia.

The cover was soft skin, slightly powdery with age, and the title had worn off. Opening it, Lilia was disturbed by the brittle stiffness of the pages. They felt as if they would shatter if she attempted to bend them. The writing was faded but still readable, and in an old formal style that was not easy to read.

“What is it?”

“A book on how to use magic,” Naki said. “Most of it we know already. Magicians have learned a lot in the last seven hundred years.”

“Seven hundred,” Lilia breathed. “It’s amazing this is still intact.”

“It’s not that old. This is a copy of the original, and has been rebound several times.” Naki looked at Lilia closely. “There is one kind of magic in there that we don’t know. Can you guess what it is?”

Lilia considered. “Seven hundred years? Before the Sachakan War … oh!” She turned to stare at her friend. “You’re not serious!”

“Yes.” A single glint of light lit Naki’s dark eyes. “Black magic.” She took the book from Lilia and put it back in the case. “I told you my father’s family had some dark secrets.”

“They don’t … they don’t know black magic, do they?”

“No. Well, I don’t think they do. It wouldn’t be hard to hide, you know. Black Magician Sonea knew it for ages before the Guild found out, and they only found out about her because High Lord Akkarin got caught. And he was only caught because the Sachakans set him up.” She looked at the case. “I reckon you could keep it secret for all your life, and nobody would know. Now this is old.”

She reached inside and brought out a ring. It was made of gold and a pale stone was set into it.

“My grandmother on my mother’s side used to wear this. It was passed down to her by her grandmother, down the line of women for centuries. Mother told me that the stone is magical and she would teach me how to use it one day. Of course, she died before she had a chance to, and Father said I couldn’t have it.”

“What is it supposed to do?”

“She said it helped a woman to keep secrets.”

“Not much point unless you have a secret to hide.”

“Or someone to hide it from.”

“Have you tried to discover how it works?”

“Of course. It’s why I found a way to get to it. But I haven’t been able to find a way to test if it works, and the one secret I’m sure it won’t hide is whether it’s been stolen or not, so I have to put it back each time.”

“How could something like that work?”

“Who knows? I think it’s just a silly story my mother told me to keep me entertained.” Smiling wryly, Naki put back the ring and replaced the side of the case.

“Maybe your father doesn’t know black magic. After all, surely he’d wear the ring if it helps hide secrets – if it really does.”

Naki’s nose wrinkled as she thought about it. Then she shook her head. “I don’t think even he would try learning it. He’s not one for taking big risks.”

Lilia nodded in agreement, surprised at how relieved she was to hear Naki say so.

Her friend suddenly looked up and grinned. “Let’s steal more of Father’s roet!” Without waiting for an answer, she skipped away to the other side of the room, and Lilia followed.

CHAPTER 7 DECISIONS AND DISCOVERIES

Whenever the Higher Magicians met in the Guildhall without the rest of the Guild present, their voices echoed in a way that Sonea always found disturbing. She looked out at the two sets of tiered seating that lined the longer walls of the hall. Between was a long, empty space that was only occupied on the few occasions each year when novices were included in ceremonies. At the far end were two large doors. They were the original doors of the building, still sturdy despite being over six hundred years old and having spent a few hundred exposed to the elements before the University was built around the old hall.

The other end of the hall, known as the Front, was where Sonea and the Higher Magicians were seated. The steeply tiered chairs were reached by narrow staircases. Not only did this arrangement allow a good view of the hall for them all, but it made clear the hierarchy of power among the magicians. The topmost seats were for the king and his advisers. The next row down was for the Guild’s leader, the High Lord, and the two newest Higher Magicians – the black magicians.

I’ve never felt comfortable with the decision to put us up here, Sonea mused. While she and Kallen had the potential to become stronger than any other magician in the Guild, they had no greater power or influence than any other Higher Magician. They were forbidden to use black magic unless ordered to and, unlike most ordinary magicians, were restricted in where they could go.

Perhaps putting us up here was intended as compensation for that. But I suspect the main reason was to avoid having to do some major carpentry to the Front. There’s simply no room to add two more magicians below us.

Her attention snapped back to the meeting as Administrator Osen’s voice rose to address them all.

“Those in favour of blocking Lorandra’s powers, raise your hands.”

Sonea lifted hers. She counted the raised hands around her and was relieved to see that most of the Higher Magicians supported the action.

“The vote is cast; Lorandra’s powers will be blocked.” Osen looked up at Kallen. “Black Magician Kallen will establish the block.”

A few magicians glanced at Sonea and she resisted a grim smile. There was no reason a black magician had to put the block in place, but it had become one of the duties that she and Kallen were expected to perform. I think everyone assumes it’s easier for us, since we can get around a mind’s natural tendency to push out an unwelcome visitor. Perhaps it is; I never had to do it before I learned black magic, so I have no way to compare.

Forcing a block onto an unwilling person was never a pleasant task, but she would have made herself do it if it had given her the opportunity to read Lorandra’s mind. When Administrator Osen had asked if she would do it, however, she’d had to refuse. If she was to bribe Lorandra with the promise of unblocking her power, the intention of dishonesty might be faintly detectable, and warn the woman to not trust Sonea. She hadn’t been so specific when explaining the reason for her refusal to Osen. She’d simply said she didn’t want to give Lorandra even more reason to refuse to cooperate with her in the search for Skellin.

Sonea did not want to have to deceive Lorandra, but the search for the rogue magician was going nowhere. They’d lost Regin’s help. Cery was expending as much effort keeping out of the reach of Skellin’s people and allies as in trying to find where Skellin was. To send Anyi off to spy for Cery, or to drag Dorrien’s family to Imardin so he could risk his life helping her, seemed far worse than lying to a woman who had defied the Guild’s laws, murdered Thieves and imported roet in the hope of setting her son up as king of the underworld.

I admit that, for all that I was impatient for the Guild to stop dithering and make the obvious decision, I was in no hurry to start the deception. Until Lorandra’s powers were blocked there was nothing to bribe her with. But now … she sighed … now there will be no putting it off for much longer.

Osen announced the meeting was over, and the hall began to echo with the sounds of boots on wooden steps, voices and the rustle of robes. Rothen waited for Sonea to descend to the level of the Heads of Studies, then followed close behind her.

“It turns out Dorrien is as good as he claims to be at attracting gossips,” he murmured.

Reaching the floor, she moved a little apart from the rest of the magicians.

“What did he say?”

“That Lord Regin and his wife are at odds.”

“That’s illuminating,” Sonea said dryly. “Did he find out what they were at odds over?”

Rothen opened his mouth, then, as he saw Lady Vinara coming toward them, closed it again and shook his head.

“Lady Vinara,” Sonea said as the woman reached them, Rothen echoing the greeting.

“Black Magician Sonea, Lord Rothen,” the elderly Healer said, nodding at each of them in turn. “You must be looking forward to having Lord Dorrien and his family living in Imardin sooner than first planned.”

Sonea looked at Rothen, who returned her questioning look with one of his own.

“So he’s made definite arrangements now?” Rothen asked, his tone full of resigned amusement.

Vinara smiled sympathetically. “Yes. He set a date so I can schedule him in to work at the Healers’ Quarters.” She turned to Sonea. “He wants to work at the hospices, but I felt it would be wise to have him for a short time where I can evaluate his grasp of recent Healing advances before I set him loose on the city.”

Sonea nodded. “I agree. Thank you,” she said, with heartfelt gratitude. She had never needed to order Dorrien around, and suspected he would be more challenging to direct than any other Healer. As a more senior Healer, who had once been his teacher, rather than a younger woman he had first met as a novice, Vinara would have no trouble correcting any bad habits Dorrien might have picked up.

Vinara nodded and moved away. Turning to Rothen, Sonea gave him a speculative look. He spread his hands and opened his eyes wide.

“Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t know!” He shook his head in exasperation. “He realised we’d both work together to make him promise not to come back to the Guild if he told us before he left.”

Sonea shrugged. “Do you mind if he joins me? Just because he’s moving back to Imardin earlier than planned doesn’t mean he has to be involved in the search.”

Rothen’s eyebrows rose. “I doubt you’d be able to stop him.”

She smiled wryly. “No, not once he starts working at the hospices. I’m sorry Rothen. I’ll do what I can to ensure he stays safe.”

“Why are you apologising to me?”

“For getting your son involved in a dangerous search for a rogue magician.”

“You haven’t done anything to encourage him,” he pointed out. “Instead, I should apologise for raising my son to be such a stubborn, persistent man.”

Sonea laughed bitterly. “I don’t think either of us can be blamed for how our sons turned out, Rothen. Some things are out of a parent’s hands.”

The record books that Dannyl had bought in the market had cost him a small fortune. The seller wouldn’t tell him at first where they’d come from, but when Dannyl had hinted he’d be keen to buy more the man had admitted they came from an estate at the edge of the wasteland which, like many, was failing due to the advance of the dust and sands.

The seller might have meant it as a reproach, but Dannyl had felt a guilty excitement in response. If other estates were selling their property to survive, there might be more records to buy. The drying effect of the wastes had kept the books and scrolls in good condition, too.

Not surprisingly, the records Dannyl had purchased often referred to the wasteland.

Visited Ashaki Tachika. He took me to see the damage to his estate. All within the area was burned. Not even bones of animals to remind us of the deaths here. The exact edge is hard to find, as wind has blown ash into the unburned land, and in the weeks since the blast plants have begun to sprout within the burned parts. The air smelled of smoke and unanswered questions. Agreed to twenty gold for five reber, including a young male.

The record Dannyl was reading was written in an economical style, but from time to time the Ashaki author slipped from strict record-keeping into evocative description. Dannyl was intrigued by the reference to plants growing within the wasteland so soon after its creation. It made him wonder afresh why the land had not recovered. Had these plants struggled for a time, then failed?

Reading on, Dannyl spent hours skimming the record before he found anything interesting again. When he did, he checked dates and was surprised. Nearly twenty years had passed before the author mentioned the wasteland again.

Ashaki Tachika has sold his estate and moved to Arvice. He says he will be dead before the damaged land recovers and worries that the land will never support crops again. It is a pity. He had such success at first, but recently many estates have suffered the same reversal. It is a mystery why this is so.

Mentions of the wasteland grew in frequency after that. Picking up the last of the record books in the set, he soon encountered what he had begun to anticipate.

The wastes have passed the boundary. The slaves reported it to Kova, and when he told me I rode out to see it for myself. It has taken more than thirty years for it to touch my estate, though the dusts have preceded it since the day after the great blast.

Ashaki Tachika’s land is gone. Will mine and Valicha’s die in the next thirty years? Will my son inherit a doomed estate and future? Despite all the Ashaki say to deny it, their rejection of my son’s proposals of marriage to their daughters reveals their lie. Maybe it will be better if there is no grandson to inherit our troubles.

Not long after the entry, the handwriting changed. The son reported his father’s death and continued in the old man’s habit of brief entries mainly recording trade agreements. Dannyl’s heart was heavy with sympathy for the family, even after reminding himself that they were black magicians and slave owners. In the world that they knew and understood, they were sliding toward poverty and extinction.

Dannyl looked at his notes, leafing back to where he’d started. The record had begun a few years after occupation by Kyralia. The original author had been young, perhaps having inherited from an Ashaki who had died in the war. He wrote little about his Kyralian rulers. On the day the wasteland was created he described a bright light coming in his window, and later mentioned that it had taken three days for the slaves blinded by it to recover enough to work.

He did not speculate in the record on the cause of the light or destruction. Perhaps he was wary of putting any accusations or discontent toward Kyralians down on paper.

One last book remained of the pile he’d bought. It was a small and tattered thing, and grains of sand had worked their way into every fold and crack, suggesting it had once been buried. When he opened it he saw that the writing was so faded it was almost impossible to read.

He was well prepared for that. Librarians at the Great Library in Elyne had developed methods for reviving old texts. Some of these ultimately destroyed the book, while others were gentler and could revive the ink for a short time. How effective they were depended on the type of paper and ink. In either case, if pages were treated one at a time a copy could be made before they disintegrated or faded.

Taking out jars of solutions and powders from a box on his desk, he set to work testing them on the corners of a few pages. To his relief, one of the less destructive methods enhanced the ink enough to make the writing just readable for a while. He began to apply it to the first page, and as the words became clear he felt his heart beat a little faster.

The book, written in very tiny handwriting, had belonged to the wife of an Ashaki. Though she began each page with a heading suggesting that the text was about some domestic or cosmetic matter, the writing that followed quickly changed to matters of politics. “Salve for Dry Hair and Scalp”, for example, turned into a scathing assessment of the emperor’s cousin.

“Emperor”? Dannyl frowned. If there is an emperor, then this was written before the Sachakan War.

He read on, carefully treating each page with the solution and impatiently watching the words appear. Soon he realised he was wrong. The woman only referred to the defeated emperor by his title because she did not have an alternative, and the Sachakans hadn’t yet adopted the term “king” for their ruler.

Which means this diary was written some time after the war but within twenty years of it.

The writer had included no dates, so he had no way to know how much time had passed between entries. She never used names, instead referring to people by physical appearance.

Useful Cures for Womanly Times

Once a month a cycle of events brings many ills. Leading up to it there is often much anxiety, bad temper and bloating, and when the time comes it may be a relief, though it is always draining. The challenge is containment. The careless will experience leaks – often not noticing until it is too late. How else do I find out what the pale ones are planning? They trust the slaves, thinking them grateful for freedom. It is not hard to make the slaves talk. The crazy emperor knows. That is why he claimed the betrayer’s slave for himself. Better to keep an eye on it always. Take the hero’s property and you replace the hero in the slaves’ eyes. The crazy emperor wanted the pale ones to take our children and have their own people raise them. Make our little ones hate us. But the kind one argued against the plan and the others supported him. I bet they regret making the mad one their leader.

As Dannyl waited for another page to respond to the treatment, he considered the last passage he’d read. The woman had referred to the “crazy emperor” many times. He didn’t think the man was an actual emperor, just a leader. If the “pale ones” were Kyralians then this was the magician who had led them, Lord Narvelan. Dannyl was intrigued by the suggestion that Narvelan had adopted a slave as his own. The slave of the “betrayer”, who was also a hero. He squinted at the slowly darkening text.

Proper Manners Toward Visitors

Respect is given first to the Ashaki, then to the magician, then to the free man. Men before women. Older before younger. Theft is a great offence, and today our pale visitors were robbed by one of their own. By their own crazy emperor. He took the weapon from our throats and ran. Many of the pale ones have given chase. It is a great opportunity. I am angry and sad. My people are too cowed, even to take the advantage they have. They say the crazy emperor may return with the knife, and punish us. They are cowards.

From the way the writing changed from neat letters to a scrawl, he guessed that a jump in time had occurred in the middle of the entry and the latter part was added hastily or in anger. The reference to a weapon was not new – the diary’s author had referred to it already as a reason the Sachakans feared to rise up against the Kyralians. But now Narvelan had stolen it. Why?

How to Respond to News of a Rival’s Death

Our freedom is inevitable and comes at the hands of a fool! A great blast of magic has scoured the land to the north-west. Such power could only have come from the storestone. No other artefact or magician is that powerful. It is clear the crazy emperor tried to use it when his people confronted him, but lost control of it. We are rid of both of them! Many of the pale ones died, so there are still far fewer here to control us. There is fear that they have another weapon. But if they do not bring it here, my people will rise out of their cowardice and take back their own land. The land burned by the storestone will recover. We will be strong again.

Dannyl felt a chill run down his spine. In her excitement, the diary writer had referred to the weapon by its real name: the storestone. So if she was right, Narvelan had taken the stone. He had attempted to use it, lost control and created the wasteland.

It all makes sense when put together like that. Except that there is no obvious reason why Narvelan would steal the storestone. Perhaps he didn’t need a good reason if he was truly as mad as the records paint him.

Suddenly the binding cracked and several pages fell out. Looking back at the first page, Dannyl saw that the writing was already fading again. He drew out several sheafs of paper and topped up the ink in the well. Then he called for a slave to bring sumi and some food.

I am copying out this book now, he decided. Even if it takes me all night.

Lilia hesitated, eyeing the large, stern man inside the doorway. Though he had bowed, it had been a token gesture. Something about him made her uneasy. The man scowled when she didn’t slip in after Naki. His eyes flickered to the street behind her, checking for something. Then he opened his mouth.

“Coming in or not?”

The voice was surprisingly high and girlish, and for a second Lilia fought the urge to giggle. Her nervousness disappeared and she moved past him into the dingy hallway.

It wasn’t much of a hallway. There was just enough room for the guard to stand and people to pass him and reach the staircase. Naki began to climb to the next floor. Odd, muffled sounds were coming from behind the walls and the air smelled of a mixture of the strange and familiar. Lilia felt anxiety begin to pluck at her again.

She had guessed what sort of place this was. She’d known from Naki’s mysterious behaviour – refusing to say where they were going – that it was unlikely they were headed for more conventional evening entertainment. While novices weren’t forbidden to enter such places, they weren’t supposed to frequent them.

They were called brazier houses. Or pleasure houses. As the two girls reached the landing at the top of the stairs, a woman in an expensive but rather tacky dress bowed and asked them what they desired.

“A brazier room,” Naki replied. “And some wine.”

The woman gestured that they should follow her and started down the corridor.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while, novice Naki,” a male voice said from behind Lilia.

Naki stopped. Lilia noted there was no eagerness in Naki’s face as she turned to look back. The smile her friend wore was forced.

“Kelin,” she said. “It has been too long. How’s business?”

Lilia turned to see a short, stocky man with squinty eyes standing half in, half out of a doorway. His lips parted and crooked teeth flashed. If it was a smile, there was no friendliness about it.

“Very good,” he replied. “I’d invite you in,” his eyes flickered to Lilia, “but I see you have better company to distract you.”

“I do, indeed.” Naki stepped forward and hooked an arm in Lilia’s. “But thank you for considering it,” she called back over her shoulder, taking a step forward and guiding Lilia after the serving woman.

They were led upstairs and to a small room with a roomy two-seater chair and a tiny fireplace with a brazier sitting on the tiles before it. A narrow window allowed a mix of moonlight and lamplight in, which was barely challenged by the small shaded lamps hanging either side of the fireplace. The air smelled of fragrant smoke and something faintly sour.

“Tiny, but cosy and private,” Naki said, gesturing at the room.

“Who was that man?” Lilia asked as they settled on the chair.

Naki’s nose wrinkled. “A friend of the family. He did my father a favour once, and now acts like he’s a relation.” She shrugged. “He’s all right though, once you understand what he values.” She turned to Lilia. “That’s the secret to people: knowing what they value.”

“What do you value?” Lilia asked.

Her friend tilted her head to the side as she considered. The lamplight set her profile glowing softly. She looks best at night, Lilia found herself thinking. It’s her natural time of day.

“Friendship,” Naki said. “Trust. Loyalty.” She leaned closer, her smile widening. “Love.” Lilia’s breath caught in her throat, but her friend leaned away again. “You?”

Lilia breathed in, then out, but her head was spinning. And we haven’t even started on the roet. “The same,” she said, afraid she was taking too long to answer. Love? Is it possible? Do I love Naki? I definitely have more fun when I’m with her, and there’s something about her that’s both exciting and a bit scary.

Naki was staring at her intently. She said nothing; she just stared. Then a knock came from the door. Naki looked away and opened it with magic. Lilia felt a warring relief and disappointment as the serving woman brought in a tray carrying a bottle of wine, goblets and an ornate box.

“Ah!” Naki said eagerly, ignoring the serving woman’s bow and retreat. She picked up the box and dumped a handful of the contents into the brazier. A flame flared among the coals, no doubt fired by Naki’s magic, and smoke began to curl into the air.

Lilia busied herself opening and pouring the wine. She handed a goblet to Naki as the girl returned to the seat. Naki lifted the glass.

“What should we dedicate the wine to?” she asked. “Well, of course: trust, loyalty and love.”

“Trust, loyalty and love,” Lilia repeated. They both sipped the wine.

A comfortable silence fell between them. The smoke from the brazier wafted across the room. Naki leaned forward and breathed deeply. Chuckling, Lilia did the same, feeling as if her thoughts were knotted muscles slowly loosening and unravelling. She leaned back in the chair and sighed.

“Thank you,” she found herself saying.

Naki turned to smile at her. “You like it here? I thought you might.”

Lilia looked around and shrugged. “It’s all right. I was thanking you for … for … for making me less wound up, and showing me how to have fun, and … just being good company.”

Naki’s smile faded and was replaced by a thoughtful look. Then a familiar glint of mischief entered her eyes, and Lilia could not help bracing herself. Whenever her friend got that look, what followed was likely to be surprising, and not a little confronting.

This time Naki leaned in and quickly but firmly kissed Lilia.

Lips warm and tingling, Lilia stared at her friend in astonishment and, she was all too aware, hope. Her heart was racing. Her mind spun. That was certainly surprising, she thought. But, like everything Naki does, not as confronting as it seemed it might be.

Slowly, deliberately, Naki did it again, only this time she did not move away. A rush of sensations and thoughts went through Lilia, all of them pleasant and none that could be explained away by the roet smoke or the wine. The wine … She was still holding the goblet and wanted not to be. I think … Naki’s arm had snaked around her waist and she wanted to reach out to her friend – should I still call Naki “friend” after tonight? Leaning to one side, she tried to set the goblet on the floor. I think I am in love.

But she must have set the glass on an uneven surface, for she heard a clunk and slosh as it fell over.

Uh, oh, she thought. But though she did not make a sound, she heard a faint voice utter it for her. A voice coming from the direction of the fireplace.

That’s strange.

She could not help herself. Tilting her head, she looked at the fireplace. Somewhere within the cavity something flickered. Looking closer, she got the strangest impression that something blinked at her.

Someone is watching us.

A shiver of horror ran down her spine and she pushed Naki back a little.

“What is it?” Naki said, her voice even more deep and throaty than usual.

“I saw …” Lilia shook her head, tore her eyes away from the fireplace, which looked dark and ordinary now, and looked at Naki. “I … I don’t think I like this place after all. It doesn’t seem very … private.”

Naki searched her gaze, then smiled. “Fair enough. Let’s finish the wine and get out of here.”

“I spilled mine …”

“Don’t worry.” Naki leaned down and picked up the goblet. “They’re used to little accidents happening here, though usually when the customers are a bit more inebriated than we are.” She refilled the goblet, then held it out to Lilia and smiled. “To love.”

Lilia smiled back, feeling the buoyant, exhilarating mood return and her earlier discomfort fade.

“To love.”

CHAPTER 8 CONSEQUENCES

The small girl sitting on the edge of the bed was coughing hard, pausing only to take a gasping breath. As Lorkin gave cure-laced sweets and Kalia’s instructions to her mother – a magician who, he knew, was aligned with Kalia’s faction – the girl looked up at him. He saw in her eyes a pity quite different to the sympathy he felt for her. She pities me? Why would she pity me?

The mother nodded, took her daughter’s hand and moved away. He watched as she walked over to Kalia. Though it had happened before, with other patients, he still felt his stomach sink.

Kalia was busy and he didn’t care to watch as the woman checked what he’d told her. He moved on to the next patient, an old woman with dark circles under her eyes and a more concerning, wrenching cough. Now that the chill fever had spread through the city, the Care Room was busy night and day, and Kalia had been forced to involve him in the treating of it. Most Traitors accepted this without question, but now and then someone could not bring themself to trust him – or pretended not to, in order to needle him.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Kalia said loudly. The old woman’s eyes flickered away and then back to Lorkin.

“She means you,” she muttered.

Lorkin nodded. “Thanks.” He straightened and turned to find Kalia striding toward him. One hand was clasped around something, and she brandished it at him. The mother and daughter trailed behind.

“I told you no more than four a day!” she declared. “Do you want to poison this child?”

Lorkin looked down at the girl, who was grinning widely, excited by the scene she was a part of.

“Or course not,” he replied. “Who could ever harm such a pretty child?” The girl’s smile faltered. She liked to be flattered, he guessed, but knew her mother would not like her to respond in a friendly way. Not knowing what to do, she looked up at her mother, then frowned and regarded him suspiciously. “I did wonder why you told me to give her more sweets than the other children,” he added, unable to resist hinting that Kalia might be favouring her friends with more of the limited supply of cures.

“I did not tell you to give her six!” Kalia’s voice rose to a higher note.

“Actually, you did,” a huskier voice replied.

Startled by the new voice, Lorkin turned to look at the old woman, who gazed back at Kalia unflinchingly. He felt a small surge of hope. However, if Kalia was dismayed she was hiding it well. She looked as if she was humbly thinking back on her instructions, but her eyes were dark and calculating.

Whoever the old woman was, she was influential enough that Kalia hadn’t dared to claim she was hard of hearing, or mistaken. Lorkin decided he had to learn the identity of this unexpected ally, as soon as he was free to.

“Perhaps you are right,” Kalia said, smiling. “We have been so busy here. We are all tired. I am sorry,” she said to the old woman, then she whirled around to face the mother and daughter. “I apologise. Here …” She gave them the sweets and prattled away as she herded the pair toward the door.

“She must be tired,” the old woman muttered, “if she thought anybody would believe that little charade.”

“Not everyone is as smart or observant as you are,” Lorkin replied.

The old woman’s eyes brightened as she smiled. “No. If they were, she would never have been elected.”

Lorkin concentrated on checking the old woman’s pulse and temperature, listened to her lungs and examined her throat. He also surreptitiously listened with his magical senses to confirm his assessment. Which was that the old woman was surprisingly healthy apart from the chill fever symptoms. Finally, after giving advice and cures, Lorkin quietly thanked the old woman.

Not long after he’d moved to the next patient, he heard a hum of interest in the room and looked around. All eyes were on the entrance, where a stretcher was floating into the room followed by a magician. The woman was unsuccessfully trying to smother a smile. Looking at the stretcher, Lorkin felt his heart skip.

Evar!

He hadn’t seen his friend in some days. The rumour in the men’s room was that Evar had found himself a lover. They’d laid bets on whether Evar would eventually swagger back into the men’s room and collect his things, or limp in with a broken heart. None of them had wagered that he would reappear unconscious on a stretcher.

Kalia had noticed and hurried over to examine him. Flipping aside the blanket carelessly, she revealed a completely naked Evar to the room. Smothered giggles and gasps came from all around. Lorkin felt a stab of anger as Kalia didn’t bother to re-cover the young man.

“Nothing’s broken,” the smiling magician told Kalia.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Kalia replied. She squeezed and poked, then placed a hand on Evar’s forehead. “Over-drained,” she pronounced. She looked up at the magician. “You?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Not likely. It was Leota.”

“She ought to be more careful.” Kalia sniffed disdainfully, then looked around the room. “He’s not sick, and should not take up a bed. Put him over there, on the floor. He’ll recover in his own time.”

The magician and stretcher moved over to the back of the room where, to Lorkin’s relief, Evar would be hidden behind the rows of beds. The woman was grinning as she strode out, not bothering to pull the blanket back over Evar. Kalia ignored the new patient, and scowled at Lorkin when he started toward his friend.

“Leave him be,” she ordered.

Lorkin bided his time. Eventually Kalia disappeared into the storeroom for more cures. He slipped over to Evar and was surprised to find the young man’s eyes open. Evar smiled ruefully at Lorkin.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Not as bad as it looks.”

Lorkin pulled the blanket up to cover his friend. “What happened?”

“Leota.”

“She used black magic on you?”

“She took me to bed.”

“And?”

“Same thing. Except more fun.” There was a shrug in Evar’s voice. His eyes focused somewhere beyond Lorkin and the ceiling. “It was worth it.”

“To have all your energy drained out?” Lorkin could not hide the disbelief and anger from his voice.

Evar looked at him. “How else am I going to get into a woman’s bed, eh? Look at me. I’m scrawny and a magician. Hardly good breeding material, and nobody trusts male magicians.”

Lorkin sighed and shook his head. “You’re not scrawny – and where I come from, being a magician – and a natural – would make you very desirable breeding material.”

“Yet you left,” Evar pointed out. “And chose to stay here for the rest of your life.”

“Times like these I wonder if I was sold a lie. Equal society indeed. Will this Leota be punished?”

Evar shook his head. Then his eyes lit up. “I moved. I haven’t done that in hours.”

Sighing again, Lorkin stood up. “I have to get back to work.”

Evar nodded. “Don’t worry about me. A bit of sleep and I’ll be fine.” As Lorkin walked away, he called out. “I still think it was worth it. You doubt me, go have a look at her. Without her clothes.”

The incident with the cures had been irritating, but Lorkin was used to it. What had been done to Evar filled him with a simmering rage. Since Tyvara had warned him not to accept any invitations to a magician’s bed he had turned down more propositions than usual. At least he now had a better idea which magicians were in Kalia’s faction.

How stupid do they think I am? That’s how Riva tried to kill me. He felt a stab of guilt. I should have warned Evar. But I didn’t think they’d harm Kalia’s nephew. Well, they hadn’t harmed him: they – Leota – had drained Evar to the point of helplessness, then humiliated him by making his mistake public.

Even so, Evar should have known better. He had known they’d find a way to punish him for taking Lorkin to the stone-makers’ caves. Surely it had been obvious what Leota intended when she’d invited him to her bed?

Lorkin shook his head. Perhaps Evar was simply too trusting of his own people. That this was how they repaid his trust disgusted Lorkin, and for the rest of the day he switched back and forth between wondering if he had been wise to come to Sanctuary, and questioning whether the Traitors could ever be made to see how unequal their society really was.

Winter was slowly tightening its grip on Imardin. Standing water froze overnight. The crunch of ice underfoot was strangely satisfying, and brought back childhood memories. You had to avoid the deeper puddles, Sonea thought, as they usually only had a skin of ice, and if the water underneath got into your shoes your feet would hurt from the cold all day.

Getting water in her shoes hadn’t been a concern for many years. The boots made for magicians were the best in the city and as soon as they showed the slightest sign of wear, servants would fetch replacements. Which is annoying when you’ve just worn them in. Unfortunately, the shoes she was wearing now were neither weatherproof nor worn in to suit her feet. They were cast-offs – part of the disguise she wore when venturing out to meet Cery.

The basket of laundry in her arms was fuller and heavier than usual. She’d had to stop and pick up sheets once already, when they’d tumbled off the top of the pile to the ground. Of course, she couldn’t use magic to hold or catch them. That would have revealed that she was more than a delivery woman.

She slowed and ducked into an alleyway. It was a shortcut that the locals often used. Today it was empty but for one other woman hurrying toward her, carrying a small child. As Sonea drew closer, the woman looked up at her. Sonea resisted the urge to pull the hood further over her face. The woman’s gaze flickered to something behind Sonea and she frowned, then looked quickly back at Sonea as she passed.

Was that a look of warning?

Resisting the temptation to look back, Sonea slowed her pace and listened carefully. Sure enough, she picked up the soft scrape and pad of footfalls several paces behind her.

Am I being followed? The alley was well used, so someone walking behind her was not so strange. Something else must have alarmed the woman. Perhaps she was naturally suspicious. Perhaps not. Sonea could not afford to ignore the possibility that the woman had reason to be. She quickened her pace.

Reaching the end of the alley, she turned in the opposite direction to the one she had intended to take, crossed the road and entered another alley. This one was wider and filled with workers from the industries housed on either side. Wood for furnaces had been piled up against walls. Barrels of oils and noxious liquids, huge tightly bound bundles of rags, and wooden crates waited to be carried inside. The people and obstructions forced her to take a winding, dodging path until she reached a tower of crates filled with some kind of wilted plant that smelled like the sea.

She slipped behind it and put down the basket. Workers further along the alley eyed her, but as she began rubbing her back, they politely looked away. She looked back down the alley. Sure enough, a short, thin man with a mean expression was making his way toward her. He looked like he belonged here as much as she did. The workers paused when they saw him and gave him a wide berth. They, like her, knew the look of a Thief’s man when they saw one.

Looking at the obstructions between herself and her pursuer, Sonea found what she was looking for. She sent out a little magic and held it in place. Then she turned and continued down the alley, keeping to her former hurried pace.

She counted down in her head and gave a push with the magic. A crash came from behind her, then yells and curses. She paused to look back, feigning surprise. Her pursuer’s path was now blocked by a woodpile that had collapsed under its own weight. She turned and hurried on.

A few streets and another alley later, and several stops to check, she decided that she was no longer being followed and made her way to the laundry, sweet shop and the room beneath. Cery and Gol looked relieved as she entered the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she sat down. “Had to deal with a tag.”

Cery’s eyebrows rose, then he smiled thinly. “Nobody talks like that any more.”

Gol made a smothered choking sound. She looked from one to the other.

“Like what? You mean slum slang?”

“Yes.” Cery rose. “Or so my daughter tells me.”

“Where is she?”

He grimaced. “Off playing spy for me.”

She felt her heart skip a beat. “You let her …?”

“Not really a matter of letting with Anyi.” He sighed. “She rightly pointed out that we’ve had no other ideas for months.” He paced a few steps to the right. “Her intention is to convince whoever employs her that she’s truly turned on me by betraying my location.” He stopped and paced to the left. “Of course, Gol and I will make a narrow escape.” He turned to face her. “That’s where you will come in.”

“I will?”

“Yes.” He shook his head, not bothering to hide his worry and doubts. “You’ll be the factor she couldn’t plan for.”

“I see.”

Cery resumed his pacing. “I was hoping to have you and Regin lined up for this, so that if one of you couldn’t make it the other could step in—”

“Wait a few days and I’ll have a replacement for Regin.”

“Really?” Cery stopped. “Who is it?”

“Dorrien. Rothen’s son.”

“I thought he lived in the country.”

“He did, but he’s decided to move to the city to get his daughter settled here before she starts at the University.”

Cery chuckled. “I bet Rothen doesn’t know whether to be pleased or horrified.”

She smiled and nodded. “I wish we didn’t have to bring him into this. I wish you didn’t need to involve Anyi.”

“It’s our children’s purpose in life to make us worry,” Cery replied wryly. He looked up. “Have you heard from Lorkin?”

Sonea felt a stab of pain, but it was more a dull ache than the sharp terror she’d felt when he’d first disappeared. “No. I guess I should be glad he isn’t being dragged into this.”

He nodded. “Perhaps I should have sent Anyi off to Sachaka.” His expression suddenly became distant and thoughtful. He shook his head and looked at Sonea. “Anything else?”

“No. You?”

“Nothing. I’ll send a message to the hospice when I know what Anyi is planning. Could you stay here a while, just in case you were followed?”

“Sure. I did lose the t … whatever you call them now.”

“Of course you did,” he said in a consolatory tone.

“You doubt my ability to lose a tag?” She crossed her arms.

“Not at all.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He feigned innocence. Behind him, Gol slid a panel in the wall open.

“Coming?” he asked.

Cery smiled and turned away. Shaking her head, Sonea watched as they slipped through into darkness and the panel slid shut again. Then she sat down and waited until they’d put some distance between themselves and the shop before she headed back to the hospice.

Stomach full, and with a mouth burning pleasantly from the spices he’d consumed, Dannyl sipped his wine contentedly. It was good to get away from the Guild House. These days the only Sachakan home Dannyl saw the inside of was Achati’s. It followed the typical format, but the interior walls were painted a softer colour than the traditional stark white. The carpets and decorations were simple and elegant. He preferred the soft light of lamps to magical globe lights.

Dannyl had seen no glimpse of Achati’s source slave and lover, Varn, since their journey in search of Lorkin. Achati had not mentioned his interest in Dannyl beyond friendship since then either – at least not directly. Dannyl was not sure if the Ashaki had given up on such a liaison happening, content to enjoy their friendship, or whether he was giving Dannyl time to contemplate the idea.

I must admit, I hope he hasn’t given up, but at the same time, the fact that Achati is such a powerful man is as sobering as it is interesting. Not to forget the fact that he is Sachakan and I’m Kyralian, and some still feel we are enemies. Having a Sachakan friend would be seen to be beneficial, encouraging respect and understanding between our people. Having a Sachakan lover would raise suspicions of divided loyalties.

“So the treasure that was stolen from the palace was a magic-storing object,” Achati said, his expression thoughtful.

Dannyl looked up and nodded. “The king told me something had been taken long ago. I thought you’d be interested to know what its purpose was.”

“Yes.” Achati’s eyes wrinkled with amusement. “We did not remember what it was, only that it was stolen. If only we’d remembered that it was an object used to control us – an object powerful enough to create the wasteland – we might not have nursed such resentment. Or resented it as much,” he added. “Since your people did use it to create the wasteland.”

“A resentment that is deserved.” Dannyl shuddered as he thought of the lifeless land he’d travelled across to get to Arvice. “I’ve often wondered how the Kyralians maintained control here. As far as I can tell, there weren’t as many Kyralian magicians here as there were Sachakan magicians. Perhaps the threat of the storestone is the answer.”

“It wasn’t long after the object was stolen that the Kyralians relinquished control of my country,” Achati told him.

Dannyl nodded. “We always assumed it was because the wasteland was considered protection and deterrent enough.”

Achati grimaced. “It certainly weakened Sachaka. Our most fertile lands were gone, and we were already a country bursting with more people than we could feed, despite losing so many Ashaki in the war.” He sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. “The king will be interested in what you said earlier: that there was initial success in reclaiming the wastes. Restoring the land is a hope of his.”

“It would be a great achievement.”

“Yes.” Achati frowned. “It is a peculiar thing that Kyralians have no memory of this storestone.”

“I can only assume that all reference to it was lost when Imardin was destroyed, which I now believe happened centuries later.” Dannyl sighed. “All good discoveries raise more questions. Why did Narvelan steal it? Why did he use it? I doubt we’ll ever know, since he and those that might have confronted him did not live to tell the tale.”

Achati nodded. “I’d like to know where the storestone came from. Did it originate in Kyralia? Was it made or natural?” He shook his head. “I’m sure you would like to know as much for Kyralia’s sake as for your book. All would face as great a threat of disaster as Sachaka suffered, if such a weapon fell into the hands of an enemy.”

“Thankfully, storestones don’t appear to be very common. They may not even exist any more.”

The two men were quiet for a while, thinking about this, then the Ashaki smiled again. “I must admit, I am finding myself drawn into this research of yours. I’ve been considering how else I might help you.”

“The book merchants at the market are going to inform me when they buy more old records,” Dannyl told him. Achati had done enough already by persuading various Ashaki to open their libraries to the Guild Ambassador, and Dannyl didn’t want his new friend and ally losing respect for continuing to promote the cause of an unpopular foreigner.

“You can’t rely on them,” Achati told him. “They’ll sell to the highest buyer. And there is no need for you to wait until an estate’s owner is desperate enough to sell their old records. There is no need to buy them at all. We can go to them.”

Dannyl blinked at the man in surprise. “Go to them? Visit them?”

“Yes. As you know, estates are obliged to provide food and beds for travelling Ashaki, and as the king’s friend and representative I warrant extra attention and favours. If we show an interest in their old records there is a good chance they’ll show them to us. That way there is no need for you to buy anything, which may be seen by some as benefiting from the downfall of victims of the wasteland your people created.”

“But … what of your duties as the king’s representative and adviser? What of mine as Guild Ambassador?”

Achati chuckled. “The king has more than one friend and adviser, and you are hardly being swamped with work. If any matter does arise, I’m sure Ambassador Tayend and your assistant can take care of it.” Then he sobered. “I want you to find out as much as possible about the storestone. If one should still exist, or was created, it could be terrible for all countries.”

Dannyl caught his breath. Achati was right: if a storestone existed or could be made it would be a great danger to both Sachaka and the Allied Lands. What would the Traitors do if they got hold of one? They would rise up against the Ashaki. Once they had conquered Sachaka, would they be content to remain there? Would they seek to expand their borders further?

Then he felt a pang of guilt and anxiety. He hadn’t told Achati everything, of course. In particular, nothing about the gemstones that Unh and the Traitors made. The only people Dannyl had given that information to were Lorkin and Administrator Osen. Osen had agreed that it was best to keep it a secret, as it might endanger Lorkin if Dannyl gave information about the Traitors to the Sachakans.

He shivered. Can I warn the Sachakans about the Traitors’ gem-making ability somehow, without it seeming like I already knew? He didn’t think he could.

Should I accept Achati’s help in finding out more about the store-stone? If knowledge of such a weapon did exist, it would exist in Sachaka. The Sachakans would find it eventually, if Dannyl didn’t find it first. He should take advantage of the fact that Achati was willing for a Kyralian to do the searching.

Where would I start looking first?

He almost smiled as the obvious answer came to him.

“Could this tour take us anywhere near the Duna lands?” he asked.

“Duna?” Achati looked surprised.

“Yes. They are, after all, traders in gemstones. Perhaps they can tell us something about storestones.”

Achati frowned. “They aren’t much inclined to talk to us.”

“From what I remember of our last journey, Sachakans aren’t much inclined to listen to them.”

His friend shrugged, then his eyes narrowed. “That’s right. You and Unh got quite chatty. What did he say that makes you think his people might tell us what they know of store-stones?”

Dannyl considered his next words carefully. “We found a cave with a patch of gemstones growing from the wall. He told me they were safe. I knew what he meant, because I have encountered gemstones with magical properties before, in Elyne. Nothing like the storestone, of course.”

Achati’s eyebrows rose. “You have?” When Dannyl didn’t reply, he looked amused. “So … Unh knew they could be unsafe. You think his people have storestones?”

“No, but I think they might know something about them. Perhaps only stories and legends, but old tales can contain truths and history.”

The Ashaki considered Dannyl, then began to nod. “Duna, then. We will go to visit the ash desert, and hope that your powers of charm and persuasion work as well on them as they did on Unh.” He turned to the slave waiting nearby. “Bring raka. We have some planning to do.”

A thrill of excitement ran over Dannyl’s skin. Another research trip! Like when Tayend and I … A stab of guilt muted his enthusiasm. What will Tayend think of me going off on an adventure with Achati just as he and I did back when we’d first met? Will he be jealous? At the least, it will be a reminder of what we don’t share any more. It seems an unkind way to repay him for drawing my attention to the booksellers at the market.

“What is it?” Achati asked.

Dannyl realised he’d been frowning. “I … I would have to gain the permission of the Higher Magicians.”

“Do you think them likely to refuse?”

“Not if I put it the way you just did.”

Achati laughed. “Then be sure to be a good mimic. Though not too good. If you sound like you’re becoming a Sachakan Ashaki, they might call you home instead.”

CHAPTER 9 ANTICIPATION AND BETRAYAL

As Damend’s strikes broke through Pepea’s defensive shield, Lilia felt the inner shield she was holding weaken under the attack and quickly sent it more power.

“Well done,” Lady Rol-Ley said, nodding to Damend. “Third round goes to Damend. Froje and Madie will fight next.”

The two girls grimaced, rose and made their way over to the teacher reluctantly. Lilia let the inner shield around Pepea disappear and waited for instructions from the teacher. Ley was of the Lans people, who were a race that prided themselves on their warrior skills – in both men and women. Yet they produced few magicians, and not very strong ones, so while Ley was fit and good at strategy, she needed help to run classes safely.

Ley glanced at Lilia. “Protect Madie. I’ll shield Froje.”

Reaching out to lay a hand on Madie’s shoulder, Lilia sought a sense of the other girl’s power so that she could create an inner shield attuned to it. If it wasn’t in tune, it would prevent Madie striking.

She sensed nothing. Madie was rigid and tense. Looking up, she saw her old friend abruptly look away, avoiding her eyes. The girl’s power was suddenly there, clear to her senses. Annoyed, Lilia created the inner shield.

“I don’t see the point of this,” Froje complained. “I know all magicians are supposed to keep their fighting skills up, in case we’re invaded again, but we’re both terrible at it. We’d be more of a liability in battle than a benefit.”

Ley chuckled. “You might surprise yourself.”

“I doubt it. Surely we’d have no power to fight with anyway. We’d have all given it to Black Magicians Sonea and Kallen.”

“You could have hours – even half a day – to recover some strength before a battle began, so you wouldn’t be completely powerless. Even if Sonea and Kallen were defeated, our enemy would be weakened by the fight. It would be a pity if we could not finish them off and save ourselves, just because some of us were too lazy to keep up our warrior skills. Now go take your positions.”

The two girls shuffled away to the entrance of the Arena. Ley shook her head and sighed.

“They wouldn’t be so bad at it if they practised,” she said.

Lilia shrugged. “They’d practise if they liked it. And they’d like it if they were good at it.”

Ley glanced at Lilia and smiled. “Do you like Warrior Skills?”

“I’m not good at them. I never have worked out what sort of strike to use, or when.”

The teacher nodded. “You don’t have the mind of an attacker. You’re strong, though, and you pay attention. It makes you a good defender.”

A warm feeling of gratitude filled Lilia. So I’m not terrible at this, but neither am I going to be a great Warrior. There was a kind of relief at knowing that her decision to not choose that discipline was the right one. Now I just have to decide between Healing and Alchemy.

At least she had a whole year and a half to make up her mind. Naki had only half a year, and she was torn between Warrior Skills and Alchemy. She was worried she would come to regret choosing the former, though it was her favourite and best discipline, because the only useful thing she could do with it during peaceful times was teach, and she didn’t think she’d be a good teacher.

Whereas I find Alchemy more interesting, but it seems so indulgent when I could be more useful to others as a Healer.

If they both chose Alchemy, it would be something they had in common during the year Lilia would continue at the University. Naki would be a graduated magician free to do whatever she chose.

A stab of worry went through Lilia’s gut. She couldn’t help fearing that Naki, once she had graduated, would grow sick of Lilia always being tied down to lessons, and find someone else to befriend. But I’m getting ahead of myself, she thought. I’m not even sure Naki wants to spend that much time with me anyway. I don’t know if she loves me in return.

As if to argue with that thought, a memory flashed through her mind of Naki pressing a finger to her lips, then leaning across the carriage seat and pressing it to Lilia’s in turn. She’d dropped Lilia off at the Guild after they’d left the brazier house. Lilia had been unable to hide her disappointment. She’d hoped Naki was taking her back to her house.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Naki had said. “Remember, we must not show a hint that we might be anything more than friends. Do you understand? Not a hint. Not even when you think you’re alone. It’s the watcher you don’t see who catches you out.”

“More than friends.” Surely that means Naki loves me, too.

A sudden impact on her shield snapped her attention back to the Arena and she instinctively drew and sent more magic to it.

“First round goes to Froje,” Lady Rol-Ley announced. “Begin round two.”

The day after their visit to the brazier house, Naki had said Lilia could stay over at her house at the end of the week. Lilia tried not to think about that. Instead she took a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate on the two girls fighting in the Arena, and on keeping her shield strong.

But inside, her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

Once he opened the door Lorkin understood straightaway why Evar’s instructions had referred to the passage as a tunnel. The walls were roughly cut. For one long stretch it looked as if he was walking along a natural fissure, the floor filled in with slabs of stone and the roof gradually narrowing to a dark crack far above him. His guess was proven right when the floor abruptly ended. He peered over the edge and sent his globe light floating downward. The crack descended below the floor, which was, indeed, slabs of stone wedged between the walls. The distance of the drop below was impossible to guess at. The glow of his globe light did not penetrate far enough into the darkness.

Shuddering, he turned to a large hole carved into the rock to one side and stepped through into another roughly cut passage. This continued in a straight line for quite a distance, and he realised he must be far from the occupied caves of the city now.

I hope I’m not technically leaving the city, he thought. Then I’ll be breaking a rule. I could argue that I didn’t know the sewers were outside the city, but I don’t think as many Traitors would be so willing to believe in my innocence as last time if I’m found to be sneaking about again.

If only Tyvara was allowed to see him. He could have simply visited her then at her rooms. He would have liked to see what her rooms were like. What would they tell him about her?

Sometimes it feels as if I know too little about her, he thought. I only know what people tell me, and what I learned of her on the journey from Arvice to Sanctuary. People aren’t going to describe her rooms to me. I’m sure it would not make me love her less if she had terrible taste in furnishings or kept her rooms a mess.

The passage began to curve gently. After several hundred more steps he saw a light ahead. He shrank his globe light until it was just bright enough that he wouldn’t trip in the dark, and quietened his footsteps.

As he neared the end of the tunnel a rushing sound reached him. He peered out, but could see nobody close by. Emerging from the tunnel, he found himself on a ledge carved into the site of a huge, natural underground tunnel. The rushing sound abruptly grew louder and gained a rhythmic beat. He leaned forward to look down and saw a narrow but swiftly running river below; the ledge was several times the height of a house above it. A large water wheel pushed water out of a side tunnel to join the larger flow. This water was a darker colour.

That’s the sewer, he realised.

The air was not as fragrant as he’d feared, perhaps because of how far away the dark water and water wheel was. If you can operate such a mechanism from a distance, why wouldn’t you? And I suppose you could create a magical shield to keep the bad air away, too.

“Lorkin.”

He jumped at the voice and looked around, but could not see anybody.

“Up here.”

Looking up, he saw that two women were peering down at him from a ledge above, both sitting on a stone bench carved out of the rock. One was Tyvara and the other …

He blinked in surprise and dismay as he realised the other was the queen.

Recovering, he hastily performed the hand-on-heart genuflection. The queen smiled and beckoned to him. He looked to either side. There were no stairs or ladder.

“You can levitate, can’t you?” Tyvara asked.

He nodded. Creating a disc of force beneath his feet, he lifted himself upwards until he was level with the ledge, then remained floating.

“Am I breaking any rule doing this?” he asked of the queen. “I know Tyvara isn’t supposed to talk to me.”

“Never mind that,” Zarala replied, waving a hand. “Nobody is here to see. Actually, we were just talking about you.”

He looked from her to Tyvara and back, noting the glint of humour in their gaze as he stepped onto the ledge. “All praise and admiration, I hope.”

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Zarala laughed, the wrinkles deepening around her eyes.

Once again he found himself liking her automatically. He wondered where her helper was. How had she got here all on her own?

“So, why are you here?” the queen asked. She patted the seat beside her.

He looked at Tyvara as he sat down. “To thank Tyvara for a favour she did me.”

“Oh? What favour?”

“Some advice of a personal nature.”

Zarala’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Tyvara. The younger woman stared back at her with a challenge in her eyes. The queen’s smile widened and she turned back to Lorkin.

“It wouldn’t have had something to do with the state your friend Evar was in a few days ago, would it?”

He scowled. “I must say, my opinion of the Traitors was lowered when I learned there would be no punishment for it.”

The queen’s expression became serious. “He was not forced into it.”

“But surely to be left so exhausted is dangerous.”

“Yes, it was careless.”

“And deliberate?”

She gave him a stern look. “Be careful what you accuse others of, Lord Lorkin. If you make such claims you had best be able to prove them.”

“I’m sure Evar was the only witness, and is hardly going to cooperate. He seems to think being humiliated and harmed is the natural cost of bedding a woman.” He looked at Zarala, deliberately meeting her eyes.

She nodded. “Our ways are not without flaws. We may not be fair and equal in all things, but we are much closer to that ideal than any other society.”

“At least we have an ideal of equality,” Tyvara added. “A lot of the resistance to change comes out of the knowledge that we are the only people ruled by women. If we do not isolate ourselves we may end up like everyone else.”

“But we can’t stay this way forever,” Zarala continued, her expression sad. “We have only so much room. Only so much workable land.” She looked down at the sewer. “Even this has limits. Our predecessors carved out tunnels and changed the courses of rivers to carry away our detritus to the other side of the mountains. If we let it flow into Sachakan waterways the Ashaki might notice and follow it back to its source. But if we grow in numbers even the Elyne rivers may not be large enough to hide our waste, and they might start to wonder where it is coming from.”

“Some of us want to restrict the number of children we have,” Tyvara said. She looked at him. “Some even want to stop non-magicians having any children at all.”

The queen sighed. “They don’t see that such measures would still change who we are. Change is inevitable. Rather than let the ill consequences of neglect decide our future, we should choose to change ourselves.” She looked at him and smiled. “As your people have done.”

He stared back at her, wondering what changes she was referring to. The intake of novices from outside the Houses? Or – he felt a stab of alarm – the limited acceptance of black magic?

I didn’t think they knew about that …

“What changes would you choose to make?” he asked, to divert the subject.

She grinned. “Oh, you’ll just have to wait to find out that.” Slapping her knees, she looked from Lorkin to Tyvara. “Well, it is time I got on with my rounds and left you two together.”

As she began to rise, Tyvara slipped her arm under the old woman’s. Lorkin quickly did the same. Once standing, Zarala paused, then took a step forward. At once she began to float away from them. Lorkin looked at the shimmering air under her feet and smiled.

So that’s how she got up here.

“Don’t get too distracted, Tyvara,” she called over her shoulder. Then she disappeared into the tunnel, the faint glow of a globe light flaring into existence illuminating the walls for a moment.

Tyvara sat down. Lorkin followed suit.

“So … did Kalia let you out or did you sneak away?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Things got quieter, so I started pestering her with questions about the cures she was making.”

She smiled. “That’d do it. Why’d you come here?”

“To thank you. Thank you, by the way.”

“For the warning? I thought you said you had no intention of getting into anyone’s bed?”

“That’s correct.”

She regarded him thoughtfully, opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again.

“Unless you told me to,” he added.

Her eyebrows rose and a faint smile curled her lips, but then she looked away, down at the sewer. It was hardly a romantic distraction, so he decided to change the subject.

“So … you’re turning that wheel with magic?”

“That’s right.”

“It must get boring after a while.”

“I find it relaxing.” She looked up and sighed. “Sometimes too relaxing.”

“Shall I stay and keep you entertained?”

She smiled. “If you have the time. I don’t want to keep you away from the Care Room.”

He shook his head. “Kalia said to stay away for a few hours.”

Tyvara made a rude noise. “She’s not the only one who knows the recipes for cures. It would be stupid to have only one person know that sort of thing.”

“It would.” Lorkin shrugged. “But I suppose if I’m not willing to share Guild healing secrets then why should she share hers? Besides, it does give me some free time to come and see you. Even if I’m not supposed to.”

She smiled. “If we’re discovered, we claim you did all the talking, and I never said a word.”

“We can. Or that if you said anything, I never heard it. Are you sure anybody will understand what we mean, rather than assume I was just being a typical male?”

She laughed. “I can’t promise that, but I’m sure we’ll get our real meaning across eventually.”

“We might get snow tonight,” Rothen said.

Sonea glanced at him, then grimaced. “First snow of the year. When I see it, I can’t help remember the Purge. Even after all these years.”

He nodded. “I do, too.”

“You know, there are adults who never experienced it.”

“Who will never appreciate how horrible it was – and that’s a good thing.”

“Yes. You want your children to take it for granted that they have a better life than you, but at the same time you hope they don’t take it for granted in case they let bad things return out of ignorance.”

“Such worries turn us into boring old men and women,” Rothen said, then sighed.

Sonea narrowed her eyes at him. “Who is calling who ‘old’?”

He chuckled and said nothing. She smiled and looked back at the University building. How long had it been since she’d noticed the elaborate façade that had once awed her? I’m taking wonderful things for granted, too.

“Here they come,” Rothen murmured.

Turning back, Sonea saw that the Guild Gates were opening. A carriage waited behind them. Soon the entrance was clear and the horses stirred into motion, hauling the vehicle through and along the road to the University steps.

The driver drew the horses to a stop. The carriage swayed and settled, then the door opened and a familiar robed figure leaned out and grinned at them.

“Nice of you to wait up for me,” Dorrien said. He clambered down, then turned and reached out, taking a gloved hand that emerged from the doorway. A sleeve appeared and a woman’s head. She peered out, blinking first at Sonea, then at Rothen.

A look of recognition came into Alina’s eyes as she saw her husband’s father, and she smiled faintly. She looked at Sonea again and a line between her eyebrows deepened. Her gaze dropped to Sonea’s robes and she schooled her expression into a serious one.

Dorrien helped her to the ground, then offered the same assistance to his two daughters. The eldest, Tylia, emerged first. She favoured her mother in looks, Sonea noted. Yilara, the younger, ignored her father’s offered hand and jumped down the steps nimbly. And that one favours Dorrien, Sonea mused.

Introductions and welcomes followed. Sonea was amused to find that Alina said nothing in response to her greeting, then busied herself checking that her daughters were presentable. Once satisfied, she took Dorrien’s arm and looked at Sonea with an expression that was almost defiant.

I wonder what I’m doing wrong, Sonea thought. Or if there’s something about me that she finds off-putting. She resisted the urge to laugh bitterly at her thoughts. Well, there are these black robes and the magic they represent.

Or it could be that Dorrien had told Alina that he and Sonea had nearly formed a romance of sorts. That they had once kissed.

Surely he hasn’t. He might have told her about our very brief connection, but nothing more than that. He’s smart enough to know you don’t torment the woman you love with the details of the encounters you had before her. She remembered her own jealousy, when Akkarin had told her of the slave girl he had loved. Despite knowing that the girl was long dead, she had not been able to help feeling a twinge of resentment.

“Black Magician Sonea!” a new voice called.

She turned toward it, and saw a messenger hurrying in her direction.

“Yes?” she replied.

“A message … arrived … Northside hospice,” the man said, between deep breaths. “I came straight … on foot, no delays.” Reaching her, he handed her a folded piece of paper.

“Thank you,” she said. She unfolded the paper. “Meet the Traitor at the Pachi Tree in One Hour”. Cery certainly had a fondness for capitalising words, she mused. “And could you arrange a carriage for me, as quickly as possible.”

The messenger bowed and hurried away.

“What is it?” Dorrien asked.

She looked up at him, his family and Rothen. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to join you for dinner.”

Dorrien took a few steps toward her, forcing Alina to let go of his arm. The woman scowled.

“Is this to do with the search? Can I help?”

Sonea smiled crookedly. “There’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to help, Dorrien. Tonight I’m just helping out a friend. You go have something to eat and settle in.”

“Is it Cery?” Dorrien’s eyes were afire with interest. Alina’s were smouldering with anger and worry. The girls’ eyes were wide with curiosity.

Sonea shook her head in exasperation. “As if I’d tell you right here, in front of the University. You had better learn to be a bit more subtle than that, if you’re going to be of any use to me.”

He smiled at her teasing tone. “Very well, I’ll let you have all the fun tonight. But you’d better not leave me out next time.”

The crunch of hooves and carriage wheels sounded in the direction of the stables. Sonea started toward the sound. “I’ll see you all tomorrow,” she tossed over her shoulder.

The driver of the carriage, seeing her haste, urged the horses to a greater speed, then drew them to a halt as he reached her. She told him the destination and hauled herself inside the cabin.

During the journey, she considered Alina’s badly concealed hostility toward her. Was I imagining it? She shook her head. I don’t think so. Was I doing something to cause it? Not unless smiling and welcoming someone is considered rude in Dorrien’s village, which I doubt. And Dorrien would tell us if it was.

Alina had visited the Guild a few times before. The first time she had been a shy young woman whose attention was so fixed on Dorrien that she possibly hadn’t even noticed Sonea. The next time she had been so occupied with a tiny baby and a young child that Sonea had not seen her once. Another time, Sonea had been too caught up in treating a seasonal bout of fevers at the hospices to see Dorrien or his wife.

Well, Dorrien is determined to stay until Tylia is in the University, so I have six months and more to find out what Alina is so bothered by – be it past romances or black magic – and to assure her she has no reason to worry.

The carriage slowed, then turned into the hospice entrance. Sonea hurried out of the carriage and into the building, greeting Healers and hospice helpers. Healer Nikea, the leader of the Healers who had helped Sonea catch Lorandra, led Sonea into the storeroom.

“Staying here or going out?” Nikea asked.

“Out,” Sonea replied. “But no disguise,” she added as the young woman headed toward the box containing Sonea’s hospice worker garb. “Just something plain to put on top.”

Nikea nodded and disappeared down the dim back of the room. She came back carrying a garment with sleeves.

“Here,” she said. “Cloaks are regarded as being a bit old-fashioned on the streets. These are more popular.”

It was a coat of surprisingly light material. Sonea shrugged into it. Though tailored like an ordinary coat to just below the bust, it flared out from there. The hem brushed the floor. “It’s a bit long for me.”

“That’s how they wear them. It only buttons to the thigh, so the fronts open up when you step. People will see your robes, but they’ll assume it’s a skirt.”

Sonea shrugged. “I don’t want them to recognise me until I’m right in front of them.”

“Then this will do just fine.” Nikea smiled, then checked that the corridor was clear of anyone but Healers before waving Sonea through the door.

Soon Sonea was walking through Northside. She slowed her pace. The Pachi Tree was not far away and she did not want to arrive too early. A block away from the bolhouse, one of Cery’s trusted workers stepped out of a doorway and shoved a basket in front of her.

“Signal is for the screen in the top right window to slide open,” the man said, drawing out a brilliant-yellow glass bottle and holding it up to her nose. A sickly sweet smell assaulted her senses.

“And then?” she asked, waving the perfume away.

“Go in. Straight up the left-hand stairs to the third floor. Last door on the right.” He stoppered the bottle and quickly lifted another one, this time a pale purple. The scent was overpoweringly musky. She winced.

“Left stairs. Third floor. Last on right,” she repeated.

“Good. My wife sells these. Some she makes herself; some she buys at the markets.”

The third bottle was black. The contents smelled of bark and earth, which was surprisingly pleasant.

“You like that one,” he said, his eyebrows rising.

“Yes, but I can’t imagine wearing it.”

“You wear perfume often?”

“Actually … not at all.”

“Well, try this one – it’s new.”

The next bottle was squat and a deep blue. The scent was a crisp, light one that reminded her of a sea breeze – but not in a fishy or rotten weed way – or the fresh smell of the air after a storm.

“That’s … interesting.”

“You don’t have to wear it,” he told her. “You can just put a few drops on a cloth and let it scent a room.”

She found herself reaching for her money bag. “How much?”

He named a price. She didn’t bother to haggle, as a movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention to the window he’d pointed out, and the screen was sliding open.

He handed her the bottle, smiling and bobbing in a display of gratitude as he backed away. She nodded to him once, then strode on to the bolhouse, slipping the stoppered bottle into one of the inside pockets of the voluminous coat.

Several patrons looked around as she entered, and it was obvious that they’d noted she wasn’t the usual sort of visitor. She headed for a narrow wooden stair built against the left wall of the room. It was steep, and soon she had reached the third floor. Two men stood in the corridor. They eyed her suspiciously. The door to the last room on the right was open, and she could hear voices. One was Cery’s. Raised in anger.

Whatever confrontation Cery and Anyi had arranged, it was taking place now.

The two men stepped forward to block her path. She pushed them away with magic. As soon as they comprehended that the force they’d encountered was magical, they backed away from her hastily. One shouted out a warning.

A man peered out of the doorway of the last room and saw her. A heartbeat later, three people ran out of the room and bolted down the stairs at the end of the corridor. One was Anyi, she saw. Realising she had arrived too late to prevent the attack on Cery, she hurried to the doorway and looked inside the room.

Cery and Gol stood at the far side of the small room, knives in hands, but smiling and unharmed. She sighed with relief.

“Looks like I arrived just in time,” she said, stepping inside and closing the door.

Cery smiled. “It was perfect timing,” he said. “Thanks.”

“The least I could do,” she replied. “So, do you want to stay here or make yourself scarce?”

He glanced at Gol, who was looking a little pale and very relieved. “I think we had better move on. Would you like to come with us?”

“Would I?” she asked in reply.

Cery grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t take you any place you won’t want anyone to see you in.” He tapped a foot and a trapdoor sprang up from the floor beside him.

Of course he’d have an escape route handy, though I doubt he’d have had a chance to use it if I hadn’t turned up.

Cery took a step toward the trapdoor, then paused and looked back at her appraisingly. “By the way,” he said. “Nice coat.”

CHAPTER 10 SECRETS SHARED

Something was gripping Lorkin’s shoulder and shaking him. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring at a grinning Evar.

“What?” he asked, pushing away a heavy, cloying tiredness. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Evar assured him. “But if you don’t get up soon you’ll be late.”

Lorkin sat up and blinked at the empty beds around him. If most of the men were up and gone, he was already late. He groaned and rubbed his face, then got up.

“I wish you Traitors had time pieces,” he complained. “How am I supposed to wake up on time when you don’t have alarm gongs?”

“Some of the women have them. But here … what would we set them to?” Evar said, shrugging. “We all sleep and get up at different times.”

Lorkin sighed and started changing out of his bedclothes and into the simple trousers and shirt he liked best of all the Traitor styles of garb. Evar brought over a plate of bread covered with a layer of sweet fruit paste so thick that it must have broken the rules of winter rationing. Lorkin ate quickly, telling himself it was only so he could get to the Care Room faster, not to hide the evidence of Evar’s excess.

“Leota spoke to me last night,” Evar said between bites.

Lorkin paused and regarded his friend. The man’s expression was wistful.

“She said she enjoyed our evening together,” Evar continued, smiling faintly.

Chewing and then swallowing quickly, Lorkin fixed his friend with a stern stare.

“I’m sure she did.”

Evar looked at Lorkin and shrugged, his smile gone. “Oh, I know it’s more likely she means she enjoyed reaping the magical and political rewards, but there is a chance she wasn’t faking the other kind of enjoyment.”

“Are you tempted to find out?” Lorkin asked.

Evar shook his head. “Well, at least not until I feel like the cost is worth it again,” he added, then took another bite.

“You’d trust her again?” Lorkin was unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

“I never trusted her the first time,” Evar said, between chews. He paused to finish the mouthful. “I knew what might happen. There were going to be people who thought I should be punished for taking you to the caves. If they didn’t do it that way, they’d find another.” He grinned. “This way I got a bit of fun out of it. And while Leota may be opportunistic, she’s also got a great body.”

Lorkin stared at his friend, unable to decide what to say to this. I can hardly say “Evar, you’re not as stupid as I thought you were”. Nor would he like it if I told him he was as ruthless as the women. But he’s not been as powerless or clueless as he appeared to be. In fact, he may have been planning this since before our tour of the stone-makers’ caves.

“And if she did happen to enjoy more than gaining some magic and the satisfaction of punishing me, then maybe she will come back for more,” Evar added, his gaze turning misty again.

Or maybe he’s just making it up as he goes along, Lorkin amended. I still have to admire him for it. He seems to be able to find an upside to any situation.

“Better you than me,” Lorkin said. He dusted the crumbs off himself, then stretched. “Not that I’d have time. I’m off to the washrooms, then back to work.”

Evar grimaced. “I’ve heard things are getting bad there.”

Lorkin nodded. “It looked like the number of fever patients was easing off for a while, but then we got twice as many sick people arriving, and some of them are much sicker than before.”

“That happens every year.”

“So Kalia tells me. But I don’t believe everything Kalia says, in case she tries to trick me again.”

“Good idea,” Evar said, popping the last piece of bread in his mouth. He uttered a muffled farewell as Lorkin headed for the door.

The city seemed quieter than usual as Lorkin made his way to the washrooms, then on to the Care Room. Coughing echoed down the corridors and from behind closed doors. Only when he neared the Care Room did he realise that there was something he wasn’t hearing: the constant hum of voices throughout the city. When he finally heard the sound it was coming from the Care Room – from a queue of waiting patients extending into the corridor beyond the room’s entrance.

People saw him and scowled. Some glared. Others looked at him in a measuring way.

Kalia has no doubt been making it known that I’m late. He wasn’t that late, however. He’d made up time by bathing very quickly, which he hoped wasn’t going to make him unpleasant to be around. If only a good bath was all it took to make Kalia pleasant to be near.

Entering the room, his heart sank as he took in the sight and smell of so many sick people. Kalia saw him and immediately stalked across the room toward him. He braced himself for a scolding, but instead she grabbed his elbow and led him over to a couple hovering over a girl of about six years.

“Examine her,” she said. “Come and tell me your assessment.”

He looked at the parents and felt his heart sink even further. Both stared back at him with dark, desperate eyes and said nothing. Turning to the girl, he saw that she was pale, her breathing was laboured and when she coughed it was weakly, her lungs rattling with congestion.

He knew even before he touched her and sent his senses within that she was sicker than she ought to be. The chill fever always claimed a few Traitors each year. The old and the young were the most likely victims, and those already weakened from some other illness.

He also knew that he would have to face this at some point. Kalia had known it too. He had already decided what he would do. But he would not do it now. Not while all these people were watching him so closely.

And not, he realised, until he’d had a chance to ask Tyvara if he’d guessed correctly what the consequences would be.

* * *

As the Guild House slaves began serving dinner, Dannyl was surprised to hear Tayend’s voice in the corridor.

“Then I’ll join him,” Tayend said. A moment later he stepped into the main doorway of Dannyl’s rooms. “Would you like some company for dinner?”

Dannyl nodded and gestured to a nearby stool. He had feared that he and Tayend would have an argument or some sort of confrontation, but nothing of the sort had happened and so far they had settled into their new roles without any conflict. And perhaps, since Tayend was so often out visiting Sachakans, it made sense to take advantage of the chance to catch up on ambassadorial business.

“No Ashaki to visit tonight?”

Tayend sat down and shook his head. “I asked Achati for a night off. I’m surprised he didn’t invite you out instead.”

Dannyl shook his head. “I’m sure he has other people to see than us Ambassadors. You’ve been getting along with the Sachakans very well.”

A slave hurried into the room with a plate and knife for Tayend, so that he could begin serving himself from the platters of food the others were offering.

“I have, haven’t I? It certainly appears so. Or am I wrong in assuming that? From what Ashaki Achati tells me, you were popular when you first arrived. Perhaps I, too, will fall out of favour.”

“You don’t have an assistant for anybody to abduct.”

“No. Though I could do with one – preferably of the kind that nobody would want to kidnap.” Tayend grimaced. “I want to work out what the situation is here, before I get anybody else involved. Whether it was safe. How things worked.” He moved some of the spicier meat onto his plate, then some stuffed vegetables, before indicating that the slaves could leave.

“I suspect finding out how things really work would take quite a few years.”

Tayend smiled crookedly. “Even so, I think I’ve worked out some things,” he said. “How about I tell you what I’ve guessed and you tell me if I’m right.” Popping food into his mouth, Tayend chewed and regarded Dannyl expectantly.

Dannyl shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Tayend swallowed, drank a mouthful of water, then cleared his throat. “I’ve worked out that you and I are no longer a couple.”

Surprise was followed by a flush of guilt. Dannyl forced himself to meet Tayend’s eyes. Tayend’s gaze was steady.

“I guess not,” Dannyl replied. Rather lamely, he added silently.

“I worked that out when you put me in the guest rooms,” Tayend added. “And don’t tell me it would have caused a scandal if I’d slept in your bed. The Sachakans knew all about us before you got here.” He speared another portion off his plate.

Dannyl coughed in protest. “They might still have disapproved – enough to demand we be replaced, or to refuse to deal with us.”

“There’s nothing to make deals over. We have no work to do. They don’t need to trade with our countries. Having us here is a gesture of goodwill, nothing more. Other than that, our value to the Sachakans is merely as a novelty or entertainment. I suppose it has taken you longer to work this out.” Tayend waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve also worked out that Achati is a lad, and rather fancies you.” His eyes narrowed. “I haven’t quite worked out if you fancy him in return.”

Once again, Dannyl felt his face warming, but this time not out of guilt.

“Achati is a friend,” he said.

“Your only friend among the Sachakans,” Tayend continued, pointing his knife at Dannyl for emphasis. “You won’t be able to string him along forever. What are you going to do when he gets sick of waiting? He doesn’t seem the sort of man I’d want to make angry.”

Dannyl opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. “You once would have said that about me,” he managed.

Tayend smiled. “Then I got to know you, and you’re not at all scary. Sometimes you’re even a little pathetic, always worried about what people think, burying yourself in your research to make yourself feel worthy.”

“It’s important research!” Dannyl objected.

“Oh. Yes. Very important. More important than me.”

“You were interested in it too, once. As soon as it stopped being about roaming around having adventures and started being about hard work, you didn’t care for it any more.”

Tayend’s gaze flashed with anger, but then he hesitated, and looked away. “I suppose it must look that way. To me it felt like I had nothing more to contribute. The writing part was always yours. Once I was out of the Grand Library, I was a poor excuse for a scholar.”

Indignation faded at Tayend’s assessment of himself. “You were never a poor excuse for a scholar,” Dannyl told him. “If I had known you were still interested in the research, I would have found something, some way, for you to stay involved.”

Tayend looked up and frowned. “I thought you were keeping me out. Going to Sachaka without me confirmed it.”

“It was … I believed it was dangerous here for you.”

“You certainly had me worried. When my king approved of my proposal to be the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka I was sure I had taken on something much more dangerous than this has turned out to be, so far.”

“How did you convince him?”

“I didn’t. Others did.” Tayend shrugged. “It seems everyone thought it was a great idea to send someone here now that Kyralia had done so, but nobody was stupid enough to suggest it in case they were given the job.”

“Who supported you?” Dannyl asked, mainly out of curiosity.

Tayend smiled. “That would be telling.” He looked down at his plate. “We should eat or the food will go cold.”

Dannyl snorted softly. “Elynes and their convoluted politics.”

“We are good at it – and it has been of benefit here. I might even be able to keep you out of trouble.”

Returning to his half-eaten meal, Dannyl considered what his former lover had said. “So did you come all this way only to see what I was up to?”

Tayend’s eyes narrowed again. He didn’t answer immediately, instead chewing thoughtfully. “No,” he said eventually. “When you left, you made me see that I was bored. Turns out you are right: having a purpose does make life more interesting.”

“And that purpose is?”

Tayend was chewing again.

Being the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka, Dannyl answered. He had to admit, he was impressed at Tayend’s daring, and the flamboyant man was well suited to the job. He did have a good grasp of politics – even if he did often choose to ignore social taboos and traditions – and he was very perceptive about people.

But I hope not too perceptive, when it comes to Achati.

Dinner with Naki and her father was always filled with long silences. Lord Leiden always asked how their studies were going, and Naki’s answers were usually polite but short. He also enquired after Lilia’s family, but she did not see them often so there was not much to tell him, and he did not seem that interested in her answers anyway.

This time, Lilia felt as if the dinner had stretched on for hours longer than usual, and the pretence of interest for the sake of manners had started to irritate her. Even the excellent food did not make up for the boredom. She wasn’t sure if it was the long days of anticipation that had made her impatient to be alone with Naki, or if she was picking up on Naki’s mood.

Her friend was definitely in an odd frame of mind. Naki’s answers to her father’s questions had been shorter than usual – verging on snarly. At one point she’d asked him about someone and he’d winced, frowned at her disapprovingly, and changed the subject. To Lilia, however, she was overtly friendly, leaning over and patting her on the leg, winking at her or pulling faces. Lilia was relieved when the meal had finally ended.

Naki led her upstairs to her bedroom as usual. As soon as the door closed, Naki began pacing and broke out into a tirade of curses unlike anything Lilia had heard since one of her visits to the wharves in her childhood.

“What’s wrong?” Lilia asked.

Naki sighed and turned to her. “I can’t tell you the details. All I can say is that he found out about a little project I’ve had going on the side, and to punish me he took something – no, he stole something – from me.” She clenched her fists and stalked to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Looking up at Lilia, her expression changed to a forlorn one. “You know, he only gives me enough money to pay for what I need at the University. If I want to have any fun I have to find some other way to pay for it. And now I don’t have such a way.”

The brazier house. The wine she sneaks into the Guild. She’s always paid for it. I haven’t paid for anything. Lilia felt a pang of guilt. She moved over to the bed and sat down beside her friend.

“What about the allowance we get?”

Naki grimaced. “You get it; I don’t. Because I’m from one of the Houses I don’t get anything. My family is supposed to pay me an allowance instead.”

“You’ve always paid for things,” Lilia began. “I should—”

“No!” Naki headed her off. “Don’t go offering to pay for my little indulgences.”

“Our indulgences,” Lilia corrected. “At least let me pay for them until you … find another way to earn some money. It would be nice to be able to spoil you for a while.”

Naki gazed at Lilia in surprise, then her lips curled in a wide smile. “Oh, Lilia. You are so good.” She wrapped her arms around Lilia and hugged her.

Lilia hugged her friend back. The simple warmth of the embrace filled her with happiness. As Naki began to pull away, she let go, but the other girl only leaned back a little. Lilia looked up to find Naki staring at her intently, her expression thoughtful.

Then Naki leaned in and kissed her.

Once again, all the sorts of hopes and ideas that the other novices disapproved of came rushing into Lilia’s mind, and her heart began beating very fast. She kissed back, not daring to think what might happen next, and not wanting to risk spoiling the moment.

Inevitably, Naki broke the kiss. Her eyes were dark and her expression impossible to read. Lilia wanted to tell her she loved her, but she hesitated, afraid that she was wrong and Naki would be repelled.

Suddenly Naki grinned and leapt off the bed.

“Let’s go to the library,” she said. “I have some roet stowed there.”

Can’t we do anything without roet? Lilia pushed the sullen thought aside and stood up. “All right …”

Naki grew even more fey and restless as they crept quietly to the library, her movements all agitation and excitement. Once she had a brazier burning, she urged Lilia to breath in the smoke deeply. They settled into two large chairs.

“Your father won’t come in here?” Lilia asked, before the drug stopped her caring enough to worry about it.

“He’ll be asleep,” Naki replied. “He was complaining, before you arrived, about how it had been a long day and he was so tired.”

They relaxed for a while, enjoying the roet, then Naki got up and moved over to the glass-topped table. She leaned on it, gazing down at the contents, then straightened as if coming to a decision and opened the side. Reaching inside, she took something out, and as she started back toward the chairs Lilia saw that it was the book Naki had shown her previously. The one that contained instructions on using black magic.

A faint unease stirred within Lilia, but she was feeling too lazy to even frown.

Naki dropped back into her chair with a sigh. She lifted the book and regarded it thoughtfully. Opening it, she gently turned the pages.

“I could probably quote whole sections of this.”

“How often have you looked at it?” Lilia asked.

“More times than I can remember.” Naki shrugged. “My father should know that if he says I’m not to do something I’ll take it as a challenge.”

“Have you read the whole thing?”

Naki looked up at Lilia and smiled. “Of course. It’s not a big book.”

“So you’ve read the bit … the part …”

Naki’s smile widened. “The part about black magic. Yes. I have.” She looked down. “It’s amazingly straightforward. I’ve often wondered if I could do it, using these instructions.”

“But you can’t learn black magic from a book,” Lilia reminded her. “It has to be taught mind to mind.”

“That’s true. I wonder why they bothered writing it down, then.” Naki flicked through the pages, then held the open book out to Lilia. “What do you think?”

Despite the roet, Lilia hesitated. Even to read about black magic was forbidden.

“Go on,” Naki said. “I’ve always wanted to show someone and get their opinion, but I never trusted anybody enough.”

Lilia’s heart lifted and she smiled at Naki as she reached out to take the book. She trusts me. She thinks my opinion is worth something. Looking down at the open page, she started to read.

… means by which the body achieves this are not so much understood as sensed. So it is, too, with the higher magics. In early training, an apprentice is taught to imagine his magic as a vessel – perhaps a box or a bottle. As he learns more he comes to understand what his senses tell him: that his body is the vessel, and that the natural barrier of magic at the skin contains his power within. And so it is that if he should happen to encounter a breach of another person’s barrier (as in the ritual of higher magic) he can extend his senses into the other’s body in a quite different way to Healing, detecting the power within, not the physical body. He can also influence this power, removing or adding to it. While it is possible to sense how much power a person contains, it is not possible to judge how strong he is. You may sense the physical exhaustion of a man who has been stripped of his magic, which suggests that once the magical energy is removed the physical energy is tapped, but if not depleted to the point of physical impact you cannot sense if magic has been removed at all. It is also difficult to sense and manipulate magic simultaneously with sensing and manipulating the physical body through Healing …

The author rambled on about Healing from that point. His writing is terrible, Lilia mused. It just goes on and on and never comes to the point. There are no paragraph breaks. She flicked through the pages. None in the entire book.

“Well? What do you think?” Naki asked, slipping some more roet into the burner.

Lilia turned back to the page on black magic and made herself read it again. “There’s not much.”

“More than anyone’s told us before,” Naki pointed out. “I’ve tried sensing my magic the way it describes.”

Lilia looked up. “And?”

Naki smiled. “I think I’ve got the knack of it.” She leaned forward. “Try it.”

“Now?” Lilia protested weakly. She felt too lazy to be attempting any mind tricks.

“Yes. It’s easy once you have the right idea. And it’s a real head-spinner when you’ve got a bit of smoke in you.” Naki’s eyes sparkled.

Shrugging, Lilia closed her eyes. She struggled against lethargy, then brought up an image in her mind of the door she had been taught to see as the entry point to her magic. She opened it and felt her senses tingle and the effect of roet subside a little.

As always, she imagined a room inside herself, small and sparsely furnished, which reminded her both of the tiny bedroom she had shared with her siblings and of her room in the Novices’ Quarters. It was filled with a warm light.

But the book says this is just a way to visualise my power. The real walls are the barrier at my skin. So I should be able to …

She let the walls go, and they faded into darkness. The warmth and glow of the light slowly faded from her sense of touch or sight, leaving only an awareness of another kind. She reached out and felt the boundaries of it. They weren’t leg and arm shaped, she found, and yet … she had a sense of her physical form as if a faint outline of herself was imposed over the magic within her.

For a measure of time she pondered this, then she remembered Naki and drew her awareness back out of herself.

“That’s … amazing,” she breathed.

Naki smiled. “You got it? I knew you would. You’re too clever.” She got up and came closer, leaning on the arm of the chair, reaching out and turning Lilia’s hands so she could read the book. “Let’s try something else. Let’s see if you can sense my magic.”

“But … you’d have to cut yourself for me to be able to do that.”

Naki leaned close. Her breath smelled of roet. Her lips curled in an inviting way. “I’ll do that for you. I’d do anything for you.”

Lilia stared at her friend, feeling her heart warm and expand. “I’d do anything for you,” she replied with feeling.

Naki’s smile widened with delight. “Let’s do it,” she said. She cast about, then danced over to the glass-covered table and reached inside again. Whatever she’d taken was small and hidden in her palm. “It’s old, so I don’t know if it’s sharp enough … ow! Yes, that worked.”

Perching on the chair arm again, Naki held out her hand. A tiny knife lay there, and a small red line seeping little beads of blood marred her skin. Lilia felt a chill that threatened to clear her head.

“Go on. Before it heals up again.”

I’d do anything for you. Reluctantly, Lilia took the knife in one hand and clasped Naki’s hand in the other. She closed her eyes.

It was not hard to return to her new awareness of her magic. Somehow she knew where to send her mind to find her hand. And then she sensed it. The presence of another was faint … except there. The cut felt like a slash of light in her mind. It attracted her like the promise of sunlight at the end of a tunnel. When she reached it … Naki.

The other girl radiated a familiar restless excitement and curiosity, with an undertone of anger – old and directed elsewhere, so most likely her lingering anger over her father.

—Have some of my power, Naki’s voice said at the edge of Lilia’s mind.

A flash of magic leapt from the break in Naki’s barrier into Lilia’s. At once she understood how easy it would be to reach through and draw that energy within herself. But she didn’t want or need to do it. Drawing back from Naki’s presence, she opened her eyes.

“I think it worked. Except … it’s too easy.” She frowned. “I can’t be doing it right.”

A finger was tracing a lazy pattern along her arm and hand. She looked down, then up at Naki. The girl’s eyes were burning with eagerness. “Let me try.” She gave Lilia a meaningful look. “We do this together.”

Lilia felt a surge of affection. Picking up the little knife, she clenched her teeth then ran it across the back of her arm. Naki beamed at her, then gently touched the cut. As she closed her eyes, Lilia did the same, wondering how it would feel to be the one whose barrier was damaged.

This time her awareness instantly took the new form. The breach in her defences was easy to locate; it roused a sense of urgency that made her feel edgy. Suddenly she felt Naki’s presence again, but this time there was no sense of her emotions.

A strange weakness, like the disconnection from will that roet brought, came over her and she sensed energy flowing out.

But as quickly as it began, it stopped. She felt Naki let go of her arm, and drew her consciousness back to the physical world. Her friend was frowning and shaking her head.

“I don’t think it worked.”

“No?” Lilia said in surprise. “I’m sure I felt you taking power.”

Naki shook her head again. Her lips formed a small pout and she walked over and flopped into her chair. “I couldn’t sense anything. Not the breach in your barrier. Not you.” She sighed. “All the years I’ve wanted to try it … and now that I have someone I trust to try it with it doesn’t work …”

“Well, if it was that easy it would be possible to learn it from a book. We can try again, if you like,” Lilia offered.

Naki shook her head. She looked at the brazier sullenly, then used a little magic to open it and stamp out the burning contents. Getting up, she stowed it away.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Relieved, since she was starting to get the dizziness and headaches that meant she’d had a little too much roet, Lilia got up and followed her friend out of the library. Naki passed her bedroom and entered the guest room where Lilia slept when she stayed over. She went straight to an elaborately carved chest, dug beneath some bundles and produced a bottle of wine.

“Thirsty?”

Lilia hesitated, then nodded. Though her head was still spinning a little from roet, she was very thirsty. Naki opened the bottle and raised it to her lips. After drinking a mouthful, she grinned and handed it to Lilia, the contents sloshing as she did. “No glasses in here. Father has forbidden wine and roet, but I have friends among the servants.”

Lilia gulped awkwardly from the bottle. With a sigh, Naki flopped down onto the bed. She waved the bottle away as Lilia offered it back.

“He’s not my real father,” she murmured. “Mother married him after my real father died. When she died, Leiden got everything she had, including me. We never liked each other. He’ll marry me off as soon as I graduate, to the first person who asks, just to get rid of me.” She sighed again.

Setting the bottle aside, Lilia lay down beside her friend. “That’s awful.” The thought of Naki being married off to a man, who she clearly would never desire, made Lilia’s heart ache. If he does it after she graduates … that’s half a year away! Would they still be able to see each other? Could they keep their love secret?

“I wish he was dead,” Naki murmured. She turned her head to look at Lilia. “You said you’d do anything for me. Would you kill him, if I asked?”

Lilia smiled and shrugged. The wine was going to her head and she had no energy to form a reply. There must be another way to solve Naki’s problems. Murder is a bit extreme. But what if there wasn’t? Could I use black magic and hide it? Make it look like an accident? Naki was murmuring something, but the words were distant and took too much concentration to understand.

Mind full of dark thoughts, Lilia slipped into strange and vivid dreams where she ridded Naki of all her problems, and they lived a life of love and secrets in a house full of staircases and hidden doors and cabinets filled with frustratingly cryptic books.

CHAPTER 11 A MISUNDERSTANDING

As the carriage pulled up in front of the tower, Sonea smiled wryly.

Finding a suitable prison for Lorandra had proven difficult. The city Guard had objected to keeping a magician – even one whose powers were blocked – in their prison. No prison existed in the Guild grounds and there was no room in the Magicians’ Quarters for her – even if there had been Sonea doubted the magicians living there would have been happy about having Lorandra as a neighbour. The Servants’ Quarters were considered briefly, but they were even more crowded – something that ought to be dealt with soon, Osen had commented. Keeping Lorandra in the Dome permanently was only suggested in jest.

The temporary solution was to use the Lookout as a prison. The rebuilding of the tower had begun before the Ichani Invasion, at Akkarin’s suggestion. Afterwards, it was completed and for a few short years used by Alchemists to study the weather. Eventually it was loaned out to the Guard for training purposes, with the condition that it was maintained and always occupied.

Though the Guard had made it clear they didn’t want Lorandra in their prison, they readily agreed to guarding her at the Lookout, so clearly the knowledge that Lorandra was a magician didn’t bother them. In retrospect, Sonea could see that guarding the tower against a rescue mission from Skellin would be easier here than in the city prison. Corruption among the prison guards had led to escapes before. There was less chance of one of them releasing Lorandra if her guards were a smaller group, carefully chosen for their loyalty and trustworthiness.

Or perhaps they know it’s more likely the Guild will continue to post a magician to help guard Lorandra here. How long would magicians agree to watch over her, if they had to do it at the dirty, unpleasant city prison?

Stepping down from the carriage, Sonea looked up at the building and felt a small pang of sadness. Would you have been pleased that we finished it, Akkarin? she thought. Or did you mean for it to be a distraction to keep the Guild’s attention away from you, as some believe?

It was a plain building, just a round tower twice as tall as the trees surrounding it. The surface was smooth and the windows small, reminding her of the Fort with its magically bonded stone face and tiny windows. Guards were posted around the exterior. One of them, standing beside the heavy wooden door, bowed as she approached, then opened the door for her.

She stepped into a large room lit by several small lamps. Two more guards and their captain rose and bowed. They had been sitting at a table with a young Warrior, who nodded respectfully to Sonea.

The captain stepped forward and bowed again.

“Black Magician Sonea. I am Captain Sotin,” he said.

“I’m here to see the prisoner,” she told him.

“Follow me.”

He led her up a winding staircase and stopped at a wooden door into which a small hatch had been recently cut. Opening the hatch, he gestured for her to look inside. She saw a bed and a desk, and a familiar reddish-skinned old woman sitting in a chair. Lorandra’s attention was on something in her hands.

“Black Magician Sonea is here to see you,” the captain announced, his voice loud in Sonea’s ear.

The woman looked up and stared at the hatch without expression. Her gaze dropped back to her still-moving hands.

“She doesn’t say much,” the captain said apologetically.

“She never has,” Sonea replied. “Unlock the door.”

He obeyed, taking a ring of keys from his belt and releasing the locks. Two locks, Sonea noted. She must really make them nervous. Sonea stepped into the room and heard the door close behind her. Lorandra looked up again, giving Sonea a hard stare before turning her attention back to the object in her hands. Looking closer, Sonea saw that it was some sort of fabric, which the woman was creating with thick thread and a short, bent piece of thick wire. The speed with which the makeshift hook moved through the edge of the fabric and formed looping knots suggested many years of practice.

“What are you doing?” Sonea asked.

Lorandra regarded Sonea with narrowed eyes. “It is called ‘binda’ and most of the women of my homeland know it.”

The fabric shifted in her hands, revealing that it was forming a tube. Surprised and encouraged by Lorandra’s willingness to speak, she considered how she could encourage the woman to continue.

“And what are you making?”

Lorandra looked down. “Something to keep me warm.”

Sonea nodded. Of course. We are not far off mid-winter so it’s only going to get colder. She can’t use magic to warm the air any more. There is no fireplace and the guards won’t trust her with a brazier. Yet the room wasn’t particularly cold. The warmth from the rooms below must go some way toward easing the chill.

“We usually use a stick with a hook carved into the end, but they think I’ll use it to kill myself,” Lorandra added.

Sonea couldn’t help smiling a little. “Would you?”

The woman shrugged and did not answer. She would not expect me to believe it, so why bother.

“Are they treating you well?” Sonea asked.

Lorandra shrugged again.

“Anything I can bring you?”

A disbelieving twitch of the mouth. And no answer again.

“Your son, perhaps?” Sonea asked, allowing a little scepticism into her voice. She was not surprised when Lorandra didn’t answer. Suppressing a sigh, she moved to the low bed, sat down and returned to the subject the woman seemed willing to talk about. If she could foster a habit of conversation, who knew where it would lead? “So what do the women of your homeland make with binda?”

Lorandra worked on in silence but something about the set of her mouth told Sonea she was considering answering.

“Hats. Gloves. Garments. Blankets. Baskets. Depends on the thread. Softer and finer for gloves. Strong and resilient for baskets.”

“Does it take long?”

“Depends what you’re making and how thick the thread is. Binda stretches, which is good for some things and not for others. If we want a firm cloth we weave.”

“What do you make the thread out of?”

Lorandra’s gaze became distant. “Reber wool mostly. There is a type of grass that can be softened and spun for baskets, but I haven’t seen it south of the desert, and a fine, soft thread spun from the nests of bird moths that only the rich can afford.”

“Moths? Here moths eat clothing, not make thread to weave clothing from.” Sonea smiled. “What is the cloth like?”

“Soft but strong. It’s usually polished to a shine, and more thread is used to stitch patterns and pictures onto it.” Lorandra frowned. “I’ve heard of women wearing skirts that took years to stitch.”

“You’ve not seen them yourself?”

Lorandra scowled. “Only bird cloth I’ve seen was worn by the kagar.”

Catching a hint of contempt and fear in the woman’s eyes and voice, Sonea considered who these “kagar” might be.

“Are they the people who kill anyone possessing magic? Who are magicians themselves?”

Lorandra shot her an unfriendly look. “Yes.”

“Why do they kill magicians?”

“Magic is evil.”

“But they use it themselves?”

“Their great sacrifice, in order to cleanse our society.” There was bitterness in her voice.

“Do you think magic is evil?”

Lorandra shrugged.

“Do you think, with your powers blocked, they’d let you live if you went back?”

The woman turned to regard Sonea.

“Planning to send me back?”

Sonea decided not to answer.

Lorandra sighed. “No. They aim to purge magic from our bloodlines. It wouldn’t matter that I’m too old to bear children. I might teach the evil to others.”

“It is incredible. They must have no enemies to defend themselves against. What of neighbouring lands? Do they forbid magic, too?”

The woman shook her head. “We have no neighbouring lands. The kagar defeated them all a hundred years ago.”

“All of them? How many were there?”

“Hundreds. Most of them small, but together they make your Allied Lands look tiny.” Lorandra smiled grimly. “You had best hope they never look across the desert, or Sachaka will be the least of your worries.”

Sonea felt her stomach clench, but then she remembered how Lorandra had not known that Kallen would be able to read her mind. Lorandra’s people don’t have black magic, and they are actively trying to purge the magic from their bloodlines. And yet they had conquered all their neighbours.

“If they did, and truly are a threat, you and Skellin would be in as much trouble as us,” Sonea pointed out. “It is a pity you didn’t join us when you arrived. We would have learned about a new land, and you would have had our protection. If Skellin—”

“Black Magician Sonea,” came a voice from the door.

Sonea turned to see the captain peering in.

“Yes?”

“Someone here to see you. It’s … important.”

Rising, Sonea walked to the door. As the captain unlocked it she looked back at Lorandra. The woman stared at her for a moment, then looked back down at her work. The tube had grown considerably during their conversation, Sonea noted.

She found one of Black Magician Kallen’s associates waiting. One of the magicians who had once tracked her movements, she noted. She tried not to radiate instant dislike, not the least because he looked alarmed and upset.

“Forgive the intrusion, Black Magician Sonea,” he said. “But there has been a murder. A magician. In the city. Black Magician Kallen is already there. You are to meet him.”

She drew in a sharp breath. The murder of a magician was alarming enough, but Kallen’s involvement and her summoning meant only one thing.

The victim must have been killed with black magic.

Dannyl sighed, leaned back in his chair and looked around his office. Being able to rest against the supportive back of a chair was a simple comfort that reminded him of home. The desk before him was also an object of Kyralian practicality and functionality that he hadn’t seen in Sachakan homes. If it weren’t for the curved walls, he could have imagined himself back in Imardin.

Perhaps chairs and desks existed in Sachakan homes, in the personal rooms he hadn’t seen. Maybe Sachakans had even better furniture for work and study. If they have, they haven’t bothered to supply the Guild House with them. This will do me just fine.

Before him were his notes and the books he’d bought at the market. He’d just written a list of what he’d learned since arriving in Sachaka, and he was feeling quite pleased with himself.

The first item was “Proof that Imardin wasn’t destroyed in the Sachakan War”, which he’d found in records in an Ashaki’s library not long after arriving in Arvice. Below that he’d written “The existence of the storestone”, which Lorkin had found in the same collection of records.

Between this and the next set of items he’d squeezed in “That the Duna tribesmen knew (and perhaps still do) how to make magical gemstones. That these gemstones are made (not natural). That the Traitors stole the knowledge from them”. All this he’d learned from Unh, the tribesman who had tracked Lorkin and his Traitor abductors.

Next was a longer set of observations from the records he’d bought.

That Narvelan, the leader of the Kyralians ruling Sachaka, had owned a slave, was considered crazy, stole the storestone, and used it to create the wasteland either deliberately or in a confrontation between himself and his Kyralian pursuers.

That the threat of using the storestone most likely kept the stronger force of surviving Sachakan magicians under control, and once it was removed Kyralia was forced to return the country to Sachakan rule.

That the wasteland appeared, at first, to begin recovering, then failed as the area began to grow instead.

It was a good list, Dannyl decided. It was only frustration at making no progress recently that made it seem like he hadn’t achieved anything here. However, there were still questions to be answered.

Leaning forward, Dannyl began to write a list of what he still wanted to find.

“Proof I can take home with me that Imardin wasn’t destroyed in the Sachakan War.” Achati seemed to prefer that Dannyl didn’t buy Sachakan records, but maybe he wouldn’t mind the occasional purchase. If Dannyl was to convince anyone of his theory that Imardin had been destroyed later, he would need to have a document to show them.

“Proof that the mad apprentice destroyed Imardin.” Dannyl didn’t think he’d find this in Sachaka, however.

“Where did the storestone come from? How was it made? Was it made, or natural? Do any still exist? Does anybody know how to make them?”

Dannyl could not help wondering if Lorkin knew the answers to these questions. The Traitors had stolen the secret of making magical gemstones from the Duna. If anyone other than the Duna knew the answers, the Traitors did.

Dannyl winced as he remembered the Sachakan king’s request that he establish communications with Lorkin. He’d asked Merria, his assistant, to investigate if she stumbled upon any information. But who are we supposed to enquire of? The Ashaki no longer invite me to dinner and I never took her with me anyway. I doubt the slaves have any way of reaching Lorkin other than through the Traitors.

He considered his lists again. The idea behind writing them was to give him a clear idea of what he was looking for while visiting the Duna tribes or Sachakan country estates. While he had answered some questions he’d had about history, it was always better to have several sources to quote from when claiming that an event happened or went a certain way, so he would still have to look for references to Imardin surviving the Sachakan War and Narvelan stealing the storestone. As for information about storestones, he had only one source to draw upon: the Duna. He couldn’t ask the Traitors, so he had to rely on Lorkin recording what they knew and eventually getting the information to him.

The only worry he had about the coming journey was how the Duna would react to him and his questions. Unh had been friendly, but the tribesmen in the market had reacted badly to his mention of Unh. But they were friendly before then. Maybe if I don’t mention him …

“Ambassador Dannyl?”

He looked up. The voice was Merria’s and came from the main room.

“Come in, Lady Merria,” he called. Footsteps drew closer and she stepped into the doorway of his office. He beckoned, gesturing for her to sit on the chair for visitors. “How are you doing?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Fine. I imagined there’d be a lot more paperwork and not very much interaction with the people, due to their customs in regard to women. It’s been very much the opposite.”

“You’ve been seeing a lot of the women Ashaki Achati introduced you to?”

“Yes, and their friends. They have quite a network. They never meet all at once, of course. The men would think they were forming a secret rebel society.” Her smile told him how much this amused her. “You’d think having all these women passing on messages to each other would make them suspicious, but …” She shrugged. “Maybe they don’t notice.”

Dannyl nodded. “I haven’t heard anything about it. Do you think they’re organising anything?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, except that a few days after I commented that Lorkin’s mother would like to hear from him I got a message saying he is in the Traitor city and is fine. I was also invited to send him a message in return.”

Dannyl’s heart skipped. “Where is this message they gave you?”

Merria shook her head. “It was verbal. The women never write anything down.”

He considered what she had told him. “Do you think this came through the Traitors?”

She nodded. “I can’t see how else such messages would get to him, if he’s in the Traitor city and only Traitors ever go there. Unless there are spies among the spies.”

“It’s possible.”

She shook her head. “I think it’s more likely the women only say they hate the Traitors so that the men let them see each other.”

Dannyl nodded in agreement. “Don’t say that to anyone else,” he advised.

Any sort of communication with Lorkin was better than none. Though King Amakira had told him to contact Lorkin some other way than through the Traitors, Dannyl did not want to lose this opportunity. He had plenty of questions for Lorkin, though what he could ask was limited by the fact that others would hear or see the message.

He should also contact Administrator Osen through his blood ring and find out if Sonea wanted to send Lorkin a message, too. That would make Sonea very happy. And the more Higher Magicians who considered what message to send, the less chance they’d send one that would have political ramifications.

“Stay there,” he said to Merria. “I’ll see what the Guild has to say.”

Lilia woke to the sensation of pounding in her head. She groaned. Roet had left her feeling dull, low and tired before, but not this sick. Maybe the wine had been stronger than usual. She hadn’t drunk that much of it.

Then a different pounding started outside her head. Someone was knocking on the door. She forced open an eye, but naturally she couldn’t see through doors. It was probably the servants.

“Go away,” she said weakly, closing her eye again.

The knocking stopped. She frowned. Maybe the servants could give her something for the headache. She opened her mouth to call out.

The door opened. Both of her eyes sprang open as if by their own volition. She saw magicians entering the room instead of servants, and it took a moment for her mind to catch up and comprehend this.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows. At once she was aware that she was no longer dressed in her robes. When had she changed into bedclothes? She grabbed the sheets to pull them up and cover herself, and felt something dry and powdery on the skin of her palms. She turned over her hands. Something dark had dried onto them.

Wine? I don’t remember getting it on my hands. And it would be sticky …

The magicians surrounded the bed. She looked up at them, recognising one of Lord Leiden’s Healer friends and … her heart stopped … Black Magician Kallen.

“Lady Lilia?” Kallen asked.

“Y-yes?” Lilia’s heart began beating again, much too fast. “What’s going on?”

“Lord Leiden is dead,” the Healer said.

She stared at him in horror. “How?” Even as she asked, a shiver of guilt ran down her spine. We tried to teach ourselves black magic last night? What were we thinking? “Where’s Naki?”

“HOW COULD YOU DO IT?” The voice was a shriek, but it was still recognisably Naki’s. Lilia winced. Her friend might have wished her father dead but she hadn’t … Someone pushed past the magicians and was grabbed by the Healer. Naki struggled to throw them off, while glaring at Lilia.

“You!” Naki growled.

“Me?” Lilia stared at her friend.

“You killed him!” Naki shouted. “My father!”

“I didn’t.” Lilia shook her head. “I fell asleep. Didn’t wake up.”

Naki shook her head in disbelief. “Who else could have? I shouldn’t have let you read that book. I just wanted to impress you.”

A chill ran down Lilia’s spine. Suddenly she was too conscious of Kallen’s gaze boring into her. “How did he die?” she asked weakly.

“Black magic,” Naki spat. Her gaze dropped. “What’s that? What’s on your hands?”

Lilia looked down at the dark stains. “I don’t know.”

“It’s blood, isn’t it?” Naki’s eyes widened in horror. “My father’s …” Then her eyes filled with tears, she spun about and ran from the room.

Lilia stared after her. She thinks I killed her father. She hates me. I’ve lost her. But … I didn’t kill her father. Or did I? Her memories of the night before were vague in places. That always happened when she drank too much wine or had too much roet. Her dreams – had they been dreams? – had included a fantasy where she’d got rid of Naki’s father, though they hadn’t dwelled on how.

“Did you kill Lord Leiden?” Black Magician Kallen asked.

She forced herself to look up at him. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Have you learned or attempted to learn black magic?”

How to answer that? She found she could not find the words. Her head was pounding so hard she thought it would split open at any moment.

“Lady Naki has confessed to an attempt to learn black magic from a book,” the Healer said. “She says that Lilia did as well.”

Lilia felt a traitorous relief. She nodded. “She has a book. Well, it is – was – her father’s. He keeps it in the library in a glass-topped table. She took it out and we read it – but it’s not supposed to be possible to learn black magic from a book.”

Kallen’s gaze was unwavering. “Yet it is still forbidden to try.”

She looked down. “I didn’t kill her father.” Again, doubt stirred and wound itself into her thoughts.

“Is this the accused?” a new voice said.

The magicians turned to look toward the door, allowing Lilia to see past them. She felt her stomach sink as she saw Black Magician Sonea approaching. Not that another black magician arriving made her situation any worse. She had always admired Sonea, though the thought of what she had done in her life made her very intimidating in person.

“Yes,” Kallen said, moving away from the bed. “I am going to the library to look for a book containing instructions on using black magic. They have both confessed to reading it. Could you read their minds?”

Sonea’s eyebrows rose, but she nodded. As Kallen left the room she turned to the other magicians.

“We should at least allow her to get dressed,” she said. “I’ll stay.”

“Find out what’s on her hands before she washes it off,” the Healer advised.

Lilia watched them go, then when the door was closed she slipped out of the bed.

“Let me see your hands,” Sonea said. She took them in her own hands, which seemed strangely small for a magician so powerful. Not that magic makes your hands get bigger, Lilia thought. Now that would be unpleasant. Lifting one of Lilia’s hands, Sonea sniffed, then drew Lilia over to the wash basin and poured some water in.

“Wash,” she ordered.

Lilia obeyed with some relief. The stain took some rubbing to come off, and coloured the water in swirls.

“We need more light,” Sonea muttered. She looked over to the screens covering the windows, which began to slide open. The room filled with morning light. Looking down, Lilia caught her breath.

The swirls of colour were red.

“But how …? I don’t remember …” she gasped.

Sonea was watching her thoughtfully. She stepped back. “Get changed,” she said, her tone somewhere between an order and a suggestion. “Then we’ll see what you remember.”

Lilia obeyed, changing into her novice’s robes as quickly as she could manage. When she’d finished tying the sash, she walked over to Sonea. The black magician reached out to touch the sides of Lilia’s head.

Lilia had never had her mind read by a black magician before. She’d never had it read by an ordinary magician either. Her lessons in the University had occasionally required a teacher to enter her mind, but novices were always taught to hide their thoughts behind imagined doors. In a cooperative mind-read, the subject was supposed to bring out the memories hidden behind the doors for the reader to see.

This was very different. At once Lilia was aware of the older woman’s presence in her mind. It was a distant thing, like hearing voices through a wall. Then she felt something influencing her thoughts. She could not sense the will behind it, so her instinctive effort to resist had no impact. Forcing herself to yield, she watched as memories of the night began to return.

Embarrassment and fear rose as she recalled Naki’s kiss, but she could detect no disapproval from Sonea. Her memories were a little less vague now that someone else was examining them, but with stretches of time that were indistinct.

One of those stretches was the time after Lilia had lain down next to Naki, after drinking the wine. Her thoughts had been murderous, she recalled with shame. But she did not remember actually murdering anybody. Except in her dreams. But were they dreams?

What if she had murdered Naki’s father while caught up in a wine- and roet-induced walking dream?

What if their experiment had worked, and she had learned black magic from a book?

—Oh, you most certainly did, Sonea’s voice spoke into her mind. It’s not supposed to be possible. Not even Akkarin believed it was. But there has been at least one other novice in history who learned it without the help of another magician, and the magicians of that time must have had reason to be so determined to destroy anything written about it. Unfortunately, being the one to prove we were wrong is not an achievement anybody is going to look favourably on. Why did you attempt it when you knew it was forbidden?

—I don’t know. I just went along with Naki. She told me … She’d told Lilia she trusted her. Would she ever again? I love her and she hates me!

Suddenly the loss and shock welled up and she burst into tears. Sonea’s touch disappeared from her head and moved to her shoulders, rubbing them gently but firmly as Lilia struggled to regain control of herself.

“I won’t tell you everything will be fine,” Sonea said, sighing. “But I think I can persuade them that it wasn’t exactly deliberate, and to choose a more lenient punishment. That will depend on what Naki remembers, though.”

A more lenient punishment? Lilia shivered as she remembered what she had been taught in history classes. Akkarin was exiled only because the Guild didn’t know if it could defeat him. They would have executed him otherwise. But then, he had killed people with black magic. I haven’t … I hope.

If she hadn’t, Sonea would find no evidence in Naki’s mind. Suddenly Lilia badly wanted Sonea to go and find that out. The last urge to cry vanished.

“Are you all right now?” Sonea asked.

Lilia nodded.

“Stay here.”

The wait was torture. When Sonea finally returned, with Black Magician Kallen and the two other magicians following, her expression was grim.

“She did not witness the death of her father,” Sonea told her. “Nor is there any proof in her mind that you killed him, other than the manner of death and the blood on your hands. Either could be coincidence.”

Lilia sighed with relief. I didn’t do it, she told herself.

“Her memories of last night are very different to yours,” Sonea continued. “But not in ways that a misunderstanding would not explain.” She shook her head. “Despite what you recall sensing, she has not learned black magic.”

A bittersweet relief rose at that. At least Naki had not committed as great a crime as Lilia had, though she had tried to learn black magic, so Lilia doubted she would escape punishment completely.

Perhaps, now she knows I didn’t kill her father, we can face this together.

But when the magicians escorted Lilia out of the room, Naki was there, glaring at Lilia with an intensity that set her hopes withering.

CHAPTER 12 DELIBERATIONS

The sound of the underground river surrounded Lorkin as he stepped out of the tunnel. Tyvara was sitting on the bench seat, as before, gazing thoughtfully at the sewer waterwheel. He was tempted to call out to her mentally, but even if it would not reveal that they were meeting, the Traitors had even stricter rules forbidding mental communication than the Guild, since they could not risk that even the shortest call would be picked up by other magicians, and lead searchers to Sanctuary.

So he waited until she noticed him and beckoned.

“Lorkin,” she said as he stepped onto the ledge. “I wasn’t expecting you to have time to visit for a while. Isn’t the chill fever in the second stage?”

He nodded and sat down beside her. “It is. It’s why I’m here. But first, how are you?”

Her eyebrows rose in amusement. “You Kyralians. Always so formal. I’m fine.”

“Bored?”

She laughed. “Of course. But I get visitors. And …” She pulled a ring from one of her fingers and held it up for a moment before stowing it into a pocket. “People keep me informed on what’s happening in the city. I’ve just been told that Kalia is furious at you leaving, by the way.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have time to wait for things to quieten down.”

Tyvara frowned. “You’re not neglecting my people because of me, are you?”

“Yes and no.” He grimaced. Even with magician volunteers helping out in the Care Room, there was a lot of work to do. He couldn’t stay long. It was time to get to the point. “I need your advice.”

Her gaze became wary. “Oh?”

“It was inevitable that someone would get sick or be injured so badly that the only way they’d survive is if I Healed them,” he said. “I’ve always planned to help them. I’ve always known there would be consequences. I want to know what you think they’ll be, and if I can avoid or reduce them.”

She regarded him in silence, her expression serious, then nodded. “We have discussed this,” she said, and somehow, by a subtle change in her tone, he knew that she did not mean her and him, but her faction within the Traitors.

“And?”

“Savara thought you would refuse to Heal them. Zarala said you wouldn’t, but you’d wait to be asked.”

“Should I wait? Is Kalia ruthless enough to let the girl die?”

“She might be.” Tyvara scowled. “Her excuse will be that you made it clear Healing wasn’t something you were willing to give, and she was respecting your decision by not pestering you. People will have to decide if it was worse that she did not ask you, or that you did not offer, and they will probably favour her. You haven’t used your Healing powers before, and have not indicated that you would do anything but refuse if asked to.”

“So I shouldn’t wait. Will people regard my using Healing as flaunting what I refuse to teach them, and what my father failed to?”

“Perhaps. Not so much if you use it only in greatest need, when the patient would die otherwise.”

“What about those in pain?”

“It would show you have compassion, if you helped them, too.”

“A toothache hurts. As do many everyday ailments. At what point will people feel it is reasonable for me to refuse Healing? Will they expect I treat everything, once I start?”

She frowned, then suddenly grinned. “It might be worth the trouble, if it put Kalia out of a job.” Then she grew serious again and shook her head. “But that would be foolish. Kalia has too many supporters.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh he couldn’t hear over the rushing water. “There will be different opinions on when it is reasonable for you to refuse to Heal with magic, and a person’s opinion may change if they happen to be the one with the toothache. I think most people will agree that there’s a point where you are right to refuse, but it will be interesting to see if they allow you to be the one to decide that.”

He nodded. “Anything else?”

“Make sure you get the patient’s or parent’s permission before you do anything,” she added.

“Should I ask Kalia?”

She winced. “Zarala was most concerned about this. If you ask Kalia, she will forbid you to use magic to Heal anyone, insisting that you teach her how to instead. Then if the patient dies, it is still your fault for refusing. If you do not ask her, you will not have respected her as your superior, and as a man that is especially bad. But if you save someone’s life, people will forgive that disrespect. As many people dislike Kalia as support her.” She spread her hands. “In your defence, point out that nobody here has to seek permission from Kalia before treating a sick or injured Traitor. Patients choose to go to the Care Room.”

Lorkin sighed. “I can’t avoid annoying Kalia, but so long as I annoy as few other people as possible I’ll have to live with that.”

“And you’ll be saving lives,” she said.

He smiled in reply. “You Traitors have the easier decision,” he told her. “Keeping stone-making knowledge to yourselves doesn’t involve anybody dying.”

“You enjoy the benefits of the stones even if you don’t make them yourself,” she pointed out. “So why shouldn’t we get the benefits of magical Healing in return?”

He grinned. “Well, that makes it sound very fair and reasonable.”

“It would be, if it weren’t just one Kyralian benefiting from the stones and many, many Traitors potentially benefiting from your Healing magic.”

Meeting her gaze, he saw something there that made his heart lighten. She understands. And she’s letting me know that she understands – and perhaps agrees – with my reason for being here.

He suddenly had a strong urge to kiss her, but resisted it. After all, she hadn’t shown any sign of agreeing with his other reason for being in Sanctuary: her.

“Thank you,” he said, standing up.

“Good luck,” she replied.

Reluctantly he turned away and headed back to the tunnel. Though he knew that the decision he’d already made was going to cause him a lot of trouble, talking to Tyvara had reassured him that he could make it without the consequences being any worse than they needed to be.

The only decision he needed to make now was when.

When Dannyl arrived at the Guild House, returning from Achati’s home, he found Tayend and Merria enjoying a late-night drink and chat in the Master’s Room. He paused to consider them. Achati’s arrangements for the journey to Duna were coming together quickly, and Dannyl would have to tell his assistant and the Elyne Ambassador about them sooner than he expected.

No point putting it off, he told himself. Walking over to the stools, he nodded toward the bottle of wine.

“Any left?”

Tayend grinned and waved to a slave standing against one wall. “Fetch another glass,” he ordered, then patted the larger stool in the centre of the seating meant for the house’s master. “We saved it for you.”

Dannyl snorted softly and sat down. Though he was the person of highest rank in the Guild House, he doubted Tayend would have avoided the seat for that reason.

“What have you both been doing?” he asked.

Tayend waved a hand dismissively. “More important people to visit, more delicious meals to consume. That sort of thing.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Dannyl told him. He looked at Merria.

She shrugged. “I went to see my new friends and gave them Black Magician Sonea’s message. You?”

The slave returned, offering the wine glass with bowed head and lowered eyes. Tayend picked up the bottle and filled the glass. Dannyl took a sip, then sighed with appreciation. “Ashaki Achati and I have been planning a trip to Duna. Looks like we’ll be leaving sooner than I expected: in a week – maybe even a few days.”

Merria’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Research or ambassadorial duties?” Tayend asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Mostly research,” Dannyl admitted. “Though it won’t hurt, politically.”

“It was the books from the market, wasn’t it?” Tayend looked smug.

“I guess in a way they did lead to Achati suggesting a research trip.” To Dannyl’s satisfaction, the smug look vanished.

“So when are we leaving?” Merria asked.

Dannyl lifted an eyebrow at her. “We?”

Her face fell. “You’re not taking me with you?”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“It’s a habit of his,” Tayend murmured. “Always leaving people behind.”

Dannyl gave Tayend a reproachful look. The scholar’s eyes widened in mock innocence.

“Surely you’ll need an assistant on this journey,” Merria persisted. “More so than you do here, anyway.”

“I – the Guild – needs you to stay here,” Dannyl told her. “To take care of things, in the unlikely event that something comes up. We can’t leave the Guild House unoccupied by Guild magicians.”

“That’s true,” Tayend agreed, quietly. “They’d kick me out, since I’m supposed to be finding my own premises.”

“But,” Merria was beginning to sound panicky. “If anything important comes up, they won’t want to deal with a woman.”

“They’ll have to, or else wait until I return. If it’s urgent …” He pursed his lips and considered. He would have to leave Osen’s blood ring behind, so that Merria could consult with the Administrator if anything important came up. So she could pass messages on to the Guild, and Sonea. If only I could make my own blood ring. Or had someone else’s … ah, of course! I have Sonea’s ring. Perhaps she would agree to me leaving it here for Merria. He would contact her tomorrow, he decided.

“If it’s urgent, you will contact Osen or Sonea via one of their blood rings. I’ll take one with me and leave one here.” Dannyl straightened and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Merria. You have found your way into the hidden world of Sachakan women and established links with the Traitors, all in a remarkably short time. I have no doubt that, if something comes up – which seems unlikely – you’ll be able to hold things together.”

“I have no doubt of it either,” Tayend added.

Her strained smile was more like a grimace, but she did look calmer and less uncertain, though disappointed.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked.

“I don’t know exactly,” Dannyl told her. “A few weeks, maybe more. It depends on seasonal winds or something and whether the tribesmen agree to see us at all.”

Merria made a small huffing sound. “Now you’re rubbing it in. I’d love to visit the tribes.”

“Perhaps we’ll go back there someday,” he suggested. “Once I know if they are as restrictive in their regard for women as the Sachakans are.”

Immediately her eyes brightened. “The men in the market were friendly.”

“Yes, but we can’t assume they are all like that. Traders have every reason to relax whatever customs they might normally follow in the pursuit of customers.”

She frowned. “What if a message comes from Lorkin while you’re gone?”

“You’ll pass it on to the recipient via the blood ring,” he told her.

She nodded. “Perhaps the Traitors could get one to you.”

“I doubt they have connections in the tribes,” he pointed out. “And it may be wise to not grow too reliant on the Traitors. They aren’t our enemy, as far as we know. But they aren’t allies, either.”

The Administrator’s office was full of Higher Magicians. As always, there were more magicians than chairs and Sonea was amused to note who was sitting down and who standing up. The Heads of Disciplines were traditionally the more vocal of the group. Lady Vinara, Lord Peakin and Lord Garrel were seated closest to Osen’s desk. Though High Lord Balkan outranked them, he chose to stand against the wall to one side, arms crossed.

The Heads of Studies, Lords Rothen, Erayk and Telano, and University Director Jerrik were also sitting down, but on the plainer dining chairs that had been brought over from the little table Osen had in the room. Sonea had often wondered if Osen ever had small dinner gatherings here and, if so, how often. She had never been invited to one.

The Healer and Alchemist who had been in Naki’s guest room when Sonea arrived were also present, standing at the back. One of the king’s advisers sat to one side, and Sonea, not for the first time, wondered if they received training in how to avoid attracting attention – remaining unobserved while observing all.

As always, she and Black Magician Kallen were standing. Kallen had been looming over the others when Sonea arrived, and though she told herself that it would be easier if they could all see her when she reported her findings, she had to admit there was a small, defiant part of her that didn’t want to seem less authoritative than he, sitting down while he towered over everyone.

The door opened and all turned to see Novice Director Narren enter the room. The man was younger than his predecessor, Ahrind, had been when Sonea was a novice, but he was equally strict and humourless. As Osen welcomed him he looked around and nodded politely. When his gaze fell on her and Kallen he frowned.

“Who is guarding Lilia?” he asked, alarmed.

Sonea looked at Kallen and saw a flicker of the same amusement she felt. “Lilia is no stronger than her natural limit,” she reminded him. “The two magicians guarding her will have no more trouble restraining her than myself and Black Magician Kallen would.”

He blinked, then flushed a bright red. “Ah. Forgive me. I forgot.”

“So Lilia hasn’t taken power from anyone?” Vinara asked, looking at Sonea.

“I detected no unnatural level of power within her. She may have taken power, then used it, but she doesn’t recall doing so, except—”

Osen cleared his throat and raised his hands to indicate they should stop talking. “Forgive me for interrupting, but we should begin at the beginning.” He looked to the back of the room. “Lords Roah and Parrie, please tell us when you first learned of Lord Leiden’s murder.”

The Healer and Alchemist moved forward. All turned to observe them, but it was the latter who spoke.

“I was talking with Lord Roah when a message came from Lady Naki that her father had been murdered during the night. We went straight to her house, where she showed us Lord Leiden’s body, and told us that Lilia must have killed him. Lord Roah examined Leiden and found he was drained of power, while I questioned Naki on why she thought her fellow novice was responsible.” He paused and looked troubled.

“She confessed to spending the previous evening with Lilia studying a book on black magic. They had both experimented with the directions, thinking themselves safe from the dangers of success because they had been told it could not be learned from a book. She hadn’t succeeded and Lilia claimed failure as well, but now that her father had been killed with black magic she could not think of anyone else who could be to blame.” He glanced at Kallen. “Black Magician Kallen arrived and we proceeded to the guest room. Lilia was asleep, but woke on our arrival. She appeared surprised, and shocked at the news and Naki’s accusations.”

“But there appeared to be dried blood on her hands,” the Healer added. He looked at Sonea. “Was it blood?”

Sonea nodded. “It was. Was there much blood on and around Lord Leiden?”

“A little. The cut had been wiped clean.” “That is odd,” Lady Vinara said. “Why clean the corpse but not her hands?”

“Perhaps in the excitement and darkness she did not notice they were soiled,” Garrel suggested.

“Lilia does not recall how it got on her hands,” Sonea told them. All attention turned to her. She looked at Lord Parrie, who nodded to say he was finished. “Lilia was still in bed when I arrived,” she explained. “Kallen left to find the book while I examined the blood and read Lilia’s mind.

“She had a nasty headache resulting from a night of roet and wine, and I suspect much of her memory loss is due to those influences. She remembers Naki taking the initiative with the book. They went to the library, where Naki removed the book from its keeping place – as she had done before. Naki opened the page and urged Lilia to read. They then took it in turns to try the steps described. Lilia was first, then Naki.”

Sonea paused and resisted the urge to grimace. “Lilia clearly recalls achieving the state of mind required, and even taking a little power from Naki.” A collective soft intake of breath sounded around the room. “She also recalls Naki taking strength from her. Then they went back to the guest bedroom to drink some wine and talk, and during the conversation Naki expressed a wish for Lilia to get rid of her father, who had been restricting her access to wine, roet and money. Lilia remembers nothing after that until she was woken in the morning.

“However, Naki remembers the same events, but with a very different perspective. She recalls Lilia persuading her to get the book and encouraging her to try the lesson it contained, and Naki complied because she wanted to impress her – and didn’t think she would succeed. She did not make sense of the instructions, however, and when I sought a memory of the sensations or knowledge of using black magic I found nothing. Naki did, however, express a wish for Lilia to get rid of her father, which she now regrets.”

“How can they have such different recollections?” Peakin asked.

“They were making great assumptions about each other,” Sonea told him. “They misunderstood each other’s motives and desires. Each thought the other was pushing them to try black magic, and that if they refused they would be seen as weak and boring.” Once again, Sonea hesitated to reveal the infatu ation Lilia had for Naki. She had learned, as a youngster in the former slums, that bonds could naturally form between women as well as men. She did not see any more harm in it than a love match between a man and a woman. But she knew many didn’t agree, and it was true that not all infatuations, regardless of gender, were good for those involved. Though Lilia’s had been a one-sided thing, Naki had evidently encouraged it. It had clearly been a part of their reckless pleasure-seeking adventures.

Lady Vinara sighed. “Ah, the young can be such fools.”

How true that is, Sonea thought. But this is a private matter and it isn’t yet relevant to the crimes committed. It would be cruel to expose it.

“We told them that they couldn’t learn black magic from books,” Director Jerrik reminded them. “Though we also forbade them to read about it. That always makes something more attractive, to a certain kind of person. And having told them that they couldn’t learn black magic by reading of it, we suggested it was a safe way of defying rules.”

“We were wrong,” Garrel said, and even looked regretful about it, Sonea noted.

“Yes, we are partly to blame for this,” Osen said. “Which is going to make deciding what to do with Naki and Lilia even harder.”

Sonea saw many nods of agreement.

“I don’t think anyone would think us neglectful if we chose a more lenient punishment than the old standard,” Vinara said.

This time all nodded. To execute two novices for fooling around with something we told them was safe would cause an outrage now, Sonea mused. How attitudes toward black magic have changed.

“Naki has not learned black magic,” Peakin said. “She cannot be guilty of her father’s death. She should be given a more lenient punishment.”

More nods of agreement followed. Sonea felt a twinge of discomfort. The two girls were equal in their guilt, as far as she was concerned. There was no proof that Lilia had killed Lord Leiden. The only provable crime was that they had tried to learn black magic. That Lilia had succeeded was an unfortunate result, but not a deliberate one on her part.

Was there some prejudice here? Naki was of the higher class; Lilia from a servant family. Naki was pretty and popular; Lilia was quiet and had few friends.

“The punishment must be strong enough to deter other novices attempting to learn black magic,” Vinara added.

“I suggest we delay Naki’s graduation,” Director Jerrik said. “She has lost a father. That is painful enough. She must also cope with the sudden responsibility that comes with being the sole inheritor of her family fortune. She will likely fall behind in her studies anyway.”

“She should make a public apology,” Garrel added. “And her return to the University be dependent on her not committing any other crime.”

“How long would we delay her graduation?” Osen asked.

“A year?” Jerrik suggested.

“Three,” Vinara said decisively. “The punishment is supposed to be a deterrent, not a holiday.”

“Any objections or suggestions?” Osen asked. None spoke. He nodded. “What of Lilia’s punishment?”

“That depends on whether she killed Lord Leiden,” Peakin pointed out. “What proof do we have?”

“None,” Kallen said. “There were no witnesses. The servants heard and saw nothing. There is only Naki’s conclusion that Lilia had learned black magic, and being the only person in the house with the knowledge, must be the culprit.”

“Put that way, it seems obvious that it was Lilia,” Vinara said. She looked at Sonea and the corner of her mouth curled upward. “If it weren’t for the fact she can’t remember anything of it. Does she seem the murdering sort?”

Sonea shook her head. “No. She is quite appalled, and afraid that she might have done it in her sleep, or under the influence of roet.”

“Could she have acted in some drug-induced state, and not remembered it?” Peakin asked. “Naki had suggested it to her, after all.”

Sonea shuddered. “I have learned not to be surprised when it comes to the many detrimental effects of roet, but I have not heard of this happening before. If something so extraordinary has happened, it still means Lilia did not consciously and deliberately murder Lord Leiden. It could only be considered an accident.”

The room fell into a brief, thoughtful silence. High Lord Balkan moved forward.

“One thing is known: Lilia has learned black magic. The king and the people will expect us to ensure she is no danger to anyone if she is to remain alive.”

“We have to block her powers,” Vinara said.

“Can her powers be blocked?” Peakin asked, looking from Kallen to Sonea.

“Nobody has tried blocking a black magician’s powers before,” she told him. “We won’t know if it’s possible until we try.”

“If we can, then what do we do with her?” Garrel asked. “She is no longer a magician and therefore not a member of the Guild, but we can’t cast her out onto the street.”

“She’ll have to be watched constantly,” Peakin said. “Who is going to do that?”

Glances were exchanged. Expressions became grim. Sonea felt a chill run down her spine.

“Surely we’ve got a better option than putting her in the Lookout,” she found herself saying aloud.

“I don’t see that we have any choice,” Vinara said. The others nodded.

“Until the cause of Lord Leiden’s death is discovered we don’t know whether she can be trusted or not,” Garrel added. “If she killed someone in her sleep … well, we don’t want that happening again.”

“The Guild hasn’t held a prisoner in years,” Lord Telano muttered. “Suddenly it has two.”

Sonea suppressed a shiver. The last prisoners had been her and Akkarin, though they hadn’t been held for long.

“Let’s ensure she is as comfortable and well looked after as possible,” Osen said. “It does seem right that her punishment be less strenuous than Lorandra’s, who we know has broken laws and killed others. Are we in agreement?”

Murmurs of assent followed. Osen looked at Sonea. “You look troubled, Black Magician Sonea.”

She nodded. “I agree that a harsher punishment is needed, but … she isn’t a bad person and she is so young. It is a shame to lock her up for the rest of her life. Perhaps we could reconsider her case in a few years if she, too, has displayed good behaviour.”

He pursed his lips as he considered. “How many years?”

“Ten?” someone suggested. Sonea winced as the others murmured agreement, but nodded as Osen looked to her. She doubted she’d be able to talk them into a shorter length of time.

“So, who will block her powers?” he asked, looking from her to Kallen.

“I will,” she replied. “Unless you have any objections, I want to have another look at her memories.”

He smiled and nodded. “No objections. If you can find out anything that further explains what happened last night, it will be most welcome.” He looked at the other magicians. “And now we have the matter of Lord Leiden’s murder to consider. We know where Sonea and Kallen were at the time. If Lilia didn’t kill him, who did?”

CHAPTER 13 DIFFICULT DECISIONS

A scraping sound drew Lilia out of her thoughts and she turned to see the door of the Dome recede. As it moved aside it was replaced by a circle of cold light against which a silhouette of a magician stood. The magician beckoned, so Lilia stood up and obediently walked up to and out of the entrance.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw that it was late afternoon. I was inside for less than a day, she thought. It felt like longer. Though it could be a day and a half. But then I’d be hungry. Her stomach growled. Well, hungrier than this.

“It’s time, Lilia.”

Lilia realised the magician was Black Magician Sonea and sketched a hasty bow. Sonea regarded Lilia with a sympathetic expression. Two other magicians waited a few steps away. Lilia avoided their eyes, falling into step as Sonea started toward the University.

“I wish we could avoid this Hearing,” Sonea said. “It’s unavoidable, I’m afraid. You and Naki must be judged before the Guild.”

Lilia nodded. “I understand.”

“You’re not to talk to each other,” Sonea added quietly. “Only speak when you are requested to, or to answer a question.”

Lilia nodded. She could see in the corner of her eye that Sonea was watching her closely, and realised something more definite was expected to indicate she had really heard and understood her, and wasn’t just responding automatically.

“Yes,” Lilia managed, her voice husky from crying and lack of use. “No talking to … unless asked to.” She could not say Naki’s name, but Sonea looked away, apparently satisfied.

They walked down the length of the University to the front entrance. The numbness that had come over Lilia since arriving at the Guild and being locked away in the Dome began to slip away as they climbed the stairs, and was replaced by a growing dread. She was going to have to stand in front of all the magicians of the Guild and endure their stares and judgement. All would be wondering if she was a murderer. All would know she had learned black magic. Whether they thought she had done so due to foolishness or evil intent, they would despise her.

She thought of her family’s disappointment, and quickly pushed the thought away. Best to dwell on only one confrontation full of shame and humiliation at a time.

They quickly passed through the spectacular entry hall of the University and down the corridor to the Great Hall. The space around the ancient building within the huge hall was empty, to her relief. She’d expected that some novices would find their way there, to watch what they could.

The doors to the Guildhall opened and her blood went cold.

The space between the tiered seating on either side of the room was filled with seats, and the seats were filled with brown-robed novices, twisting around so they could see her enter the building.

She fixed her eyes on the floor. Her heart thundered in her ears as she forced her shaky legs to carry her down the aisle. If any of the novices whispered anything – if any called out – she did not hear it. Blood was rushing in her ears, drowning out all noises. She concentrated on breathing, and on putting one trembling leg in front of the other.

They reached the Front of the hall and moved to the right-hand side, where Sonea stopped and placed a hand gently on Lilia’s shoulder.

“Stay here,” she murmured, then she strode forward and climbed the steep stairs to her seat among the Higher Magicians. Watching her, Lilia saw that some of the Higher Magicians were frowning. One said something, but Sonea waved a hand in a reassuring, dismissing gesture.

Then Lilia met the eyes of a Higher Magician who was staring at her, and quickly looked back down at the floor.

“You have heard the accounts of the few witnesses to these events,” a male voice boomed. Lilia glanced up and saw that the blue-robed Administrator was standing in the centre of the Front. She had been staring at the floor so hard that she hadn’t noticed him there. “You have heard what Black Magician Sonea discovered in the minds of the two young women standing before us. Now let us hear what they have to say. Lady Naki.”

A shiver ran down Lilia’s spine and she followed Osen’s eyes to find that Naki was standing just ten or so strides from her, on the left-hand side of the room. Her heart began to lighten at the familiar, beautiful face, but the feeling faded and was replaced by a pain that made Lilia’s breath catch in her throat.

“Yes, Administrator Osen,” Naki replied calmly, and a little coldly. She was standing with her back straight and her head high. Dark circles shadowed her red eyes. She looks strong, but also like she might crumble any moment, Lilia thought. What do I look like, all stooped and unable to look at anyone? I must look as guilty as she thinks I am.

Naki told her story. At every word, Lilia felt a little colder, until she was chilled to the core. But she was the one who wanted to read the book and try black magic! It was all her idea! As Naki described finding her father’s body, she turned and glared at Lilia.

“She killed him. Who else could it have been? She must have learned from the book. Maybe she already knew it.” Naki’s face crumpled and she covered her face with her hands. “Why? Why did you do it?”

Lilia’s heart twisted in sympathy. “I didn’t, Naki. I …” Lilia began, but Osen frowned at her and she choked back the words.

After a pause while Naki recovered her composure, the Higher Magicians questioned her, but it seemed to Lilia that they expected to learn nothing more than they had already been told. Osen turned to face Lilia, and she drew in a deep breath and hoped her voice would remain steady.

“Lady Lilia,” he began. “Tell us what happened the night you stayed at Lady Naki’s home.”

She tried to explain, but every time she described something differently to Naki the girl made a small noise of disgust or protest, and she found herself hurrying. Only when she had moved on from the subject of the book did Lilia realise she should have mentioned that Naki had shown it to her before, but by then it didn’t seem worth going back to add that detail. When Osen asked her about the blood on her hands, she suddenly remembered that she’d sensed Naki taking power, but when she tried to tell Osen he took it as an attempt to divert attention from questions about the blood. Finally, his questions became more direct.

“Did you attempt to learn black magic?”

“Yes,” she replied, feeling her face heat.

“Did you succeed?”

“Yes,” she forced out. “At least, Black Magician Sonea says I did.”

“Did you kill Lord Leiden?”

“No.”

He nodded and looked at the Higher Magicians, and Lilia braced herself for their questions. They had more for her than for Naki. When the torture was over, and Osen’s attention finally moved from her to the rest of the hall, she felt an immense relief.

“There is not enough evidence to accuse anyone of Lord Leiden’s murder,” he said. “Though investigations are far from over. Two crimes have been confessed to, however: the attempt to learn, and the learning of black magic. The Higher Magicians have decided upon appropriate punishment for these crimes, taking into account the age of the accused, and the intent behind their actions.”

He paused. “The punishment for Lady Naki, who admits that she attempted to learn black magic but did not succeed, is a three-year expulsion from the University, with her powers blocked, after which her conduct will be reviewed and, if deemed satisfactory, she may return.”

A faint sigh rose from the watching magicians and novices, followed by a low rumble of discussion, but the sounds quietened as Osen spoke again.

“The punishment for Lady Lilia, who admits that she attempted to learn black magic and succeeded, is expulsion from the Guild. Her powers will be blocked and she will be required to abide within an appropriately secure place. We will review her punishment in ten years.”

No sigh came from the watching magicians and novices. Instead the murmuring began immediately and rose in volume. Osen frowned, hearing the tone of dissatisfaction. Lilia felt her stomach sink.

They don’t think it’s tough enough. They think I should be executed. They—

“Favouritism!” someone behind her said loudly.

“Naki made her do it!” another voice declared.

“No! You lowies have always been a bad influence,” came the retort.

“Please escort Lady Naki and Lady Lilia out of the Guildhall,” Osen said, his magically amplified voice cutting across the arguments. The room quietened a little, then the two magicians who had accompanied Lilia and Sonea earlier stepped forward and gestured to indicate she should go toward a side door nearby.

“We’re on your side, Lilia!” someone called out.

She felt the briefest lightening of her heart, then someone shouted “Murderer!” and it shrivelled again. I’m going to be locked away. For ten years. And more, because no matter how well behaved I am, I’ll still know how to use black magic, and that means I’ll still be a criminal. Oh, how I wish they could block my memories as well as my powers. Why did I let Naki talk me into trying to learn black magic?

Because she loved Naki. Because neither of them had thought it would work. But it had, which explained why reading about black magic was banned. The Guild wouldn’t have wanted to admit that it was possible, because then someone with bad intentions would get hold of a book and try it. I should have realised that.

Then she realised what she and Naki had done. Everyone knows you can learn black magic from books now. We’ve uncovered a secret that should have remained hidden. And like black magic, it’s a secret that can’t be unlearned.

It had been a long day for Lorkin. Not only because Kalia had taken out her anger at him for slipping away from the Care Room, but because he had watched the sick child’s health diminishing, all the while wondering how he was going to Heal her without Kalia seeing and stopping him.

His dilemma had resolved itself in a surprising way, however. Some time in the late evening the girl’s parents had decided that they did not want their child dying in the very public, often noisy Care Room, but at home with her family. Kalia had tried to talk them out of it, but they had made up their mind.

This had unsettled Kalia, and she had been absent-minded for the rest of the day. No doubt preoccupied with trying to figure out if she could gain anything from the situation without making herself look bad.

Two more patients were suffering badly from the chill fever: an old woman and a teenage boy who already had other health troubles. Kalia did not leave the room to visit the sick girl, perhaps because she hadn’t been asked to, perhaps because she was afraid Lorkin would Heal the other dangerously ill patients while she was gone. She kept Lorkin working until late in the night, then finally dismissed him when a high-ranking magician dropped by with her sick husband, and questioned the wisdom of Kalia working so late and exhausting herself, when magicians had volunteered to watch over the patients at night to avoid that.

As he left, Kalia called out his name. He turned.

“You may go,” she said. “Don’t visit Velyla without me.”

He nodded to show he understood. As he headed toward the sick girl’s room he wondered what his disobedience would cost him.

He did not reach it.

A woman stepped out of a side room and beckoned. He knew her as one of Savara’s supporters, but even so he hesitated before following her into the room. When he saw the four people waiting there his doubts evaporated.

The room was a large, half-empty food store. On a makeshift bed lay Velyla, unconscious. Her parents hovered over her. Beside them stood Savara.

“Lorkin.” Savara smiled. “I thought she’d never let you leave,” she said.

He grimaced. “I think she was hoping …” He caught himself and looked at the parents. Hoping that the girl would die before I had the chance to Heal her. I can’t say that in front of them. He walked over to the makeshift bed, then looked up at the couple. “I will try to Heal her with magic, but I can’t promise that I will be able to save her. Magical Healing does not always succeed, though I’ve never known it to do any harm. I will only try if you give me permission to do so.”

“We do,” the father said, his wife nodding.

“And I will stand as witness,” Savara added softly.

Lorkin looked at her. Tyvara must have told Savara of his plans. Perhaps Savara had convinced the parents to remove their child from the Care Room so that Kalia could not prevent or intervene in her Healing. Perhaps she, too, had guessed that Kalia would forbid him to visit Velyla alone, so had arranged for the girl to be brought here instead.

Savara smiled, and there was a glint of both smugness and approval in her eyes.

Turning back to the child, Lorkin put a hand on her forehead and sent his senses within her body. What he saw sent a chill down his spine. The sickness was everywhere, attacking everything. Her lungs were full of it, and her heart was weak.

He began by simply sending her body energy. Often this was enough – the body automatically used it to heal itself. This sickness that had invaded her systems was too virulent for her defences. If he had looked inside the Traitors who were not badly affected by the chill fever, he knew he would have seen their bodies fighting back. But Velyla’s body was losing that fight.

It could be that her body’s defences were slow and weak, and that all it needed was a boost of energy in order to last long enough to win the battle. Or it could be that it would never win it, no matter how much extra time he gave her. Kalia will say that I prolonged her pain, if I don’t succeed. But I have to try.

Next he forced the liquid out of her lungs – which was not pleasant for anyone but would allow the girl to breathe properly for a time – and Healed as much of the damage as he could. This last step drained much of his strength, but he did not use a great deal of his power working in the Care Room anyway, and a night’s sleep should restore him.

“Keep using Kalia’s cures,” he told Velyla’s parents. “They will help to keep her lungs clear and soothe her throat.” He looked down to see the girl’s eyelids flutter, and quickly added, “I’ve done all that can be done with magic, which is to give her body another chance to beat chill fever. I can do it again if she worsens, but if her body won’t fight it …” He left the sentence hanging and shook his head.

The parents nodded, their expressions grim. “Thank you,” the father said. Interesting that he has been the one to speak, when the woman is considered the head of the family, Lorkin mused.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Savara standing beside him. “You’d best get some rest. I suspect that takes more magic than it appears to.”

He shrugged, though she was right. She looked to the woman who had brought him into the room, who now opened the door a little to check the corridor outside, then turned back and nodded.

“You go first,” Savara murmured. “We’ll leave separately, to arouse less suspicion if we’re seen.”

Slipping out into the corridor, he started toward the men’s room. It seemed as if Savara meant to keep his healing of the girl secret. If Velyla recovered, would it seem suspicious? The girl was still ill, however, and would not be surprising anybody by romping around in perfect health tomorrow. She would take some days yet to regain some energy – assuming she did at all. Most people would not question it, but would Kalia, who knew how ill she had been?

I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

As Achati’s slaves took away the last of the meal, Dannyl went to take another sip of wine, then thought better of it. It was a particularly strong vintage, and the food had been extra spicy. His head was spinning in an almost unpleasant way.

It was never wise, as a magician, to get too drunk. All magicians maintained a constant level of control over their power, and that could slip a little under the effects of alcohol. Generally it was more embarrassing than dangerous, though there had been more than a few magicians over the years who had burned down their house by accident after indulging a little too much.

Some drugs – better known as poisons – could remove all control, which could be spectacularly fatal. He had read of a few incidents in early Kyralian history, mostly from before the discovery of Healing. Fortunately the drugs had side-effects that alerted victims to the danger, giving them time to remove the poison from their body if they knew how to.

Dannyl looked at Achati, who was watching him thoughtfully. At once he felt a tingle of anxiety, but also a small quickening of his pulse. He remembered the day Achati had revealed his interest in them being more than fellow magicians and diplomats. More than friends.

Dannyl had been flattered, but also cautious. Seeing him hesitate, Achati had suggested Dannyl consider the idea for a while.

How long is a while?

Dannyl had to admit, he had been considering it. He liked Achati a lot. He was attracted to Achati in an entirely different way than he had been to Tayend. Achati was intelligent and interesting to talk to. Not that Tayend wasn’t, but he was also inclined to be flippant, foolish and occasionally thoughtless. Achati was never any of these things.

But something was making Dannyl hesitate, and he had a fairly good idea what it was: Achati was a powerful man, both magically and politically. Dannyl found this attractive, until he remembered that Achati was a Sachakan and a black magician, and then he could not help remembering the Ichani Invasion, and how Kyralia had come so close to being conquered by mere outcasts of this powerful society.

He is no Ichani, Dannyl reminded himself. Sachaka is not full of ambitious, murderous black magicians intent on conquest. Achati is the opposite of the Ichani – civilised and intent on peace between our countries.

Even so, it’s never wise to mix politics and pleasure … unless your pleasure is politics.

If the entanglements and tragic romances of the courtiers of the Allied Lands were anything to go by, things could get really messy, and ultimately bad for at least one of the party. But this was not like those inter-racial romances involving secret weddings or scandalous affairs. It was nothing that would bring his loyalty to Kyralia into question. He could not imagine Achati having unreasonable expectations and making unrealistic promises …

“What are you thinking about?” Achati asked.

Dannyl looked at his companion and shrugged. “Nothing.”

The Sachakan smiled. “It is a strange habit of Kyralians, claiming to have a void of thoughts when they don’t want to discuss them.”

“Or if their thoughts are too mixed and disjointed – most likely from the wine – to explain – which is probably also because of the wine,” Dannyl added.

Achati chuckled. “Yes, I can see how that might be.” He looked at Dannyl and frowned. “There is something I have to tell you, and I’m not sure if you will be displeased or not.”

Dannyl felt a small pang of disappointment. He had almost convinced himself to accept Achati’s proposal, but now that Achati was being more serious, Dannyl’s doubts were creeping back in.

How would such a connection, if it were discovered, affect our standing in Sachakan society? Then it occurred to him that they were about to leave Arvice. Out of sight and out of minds. This trip could be the perfect opportunity …

“I’ve agreed to take another person on our research trip,” Achati said. “He was quite persuasive, and I can’t fault his reasoning. I’d already promised that if things got a bit too intense here I’d help him escape the Ashakis’ interest.”

Dannyl felt his heart sink. Then his disappointment at Achati’s words was followed by a rising suspicion.

“Who?”

Achati smiled. “I’ve agreed to take Ambassador Tayend with us.”

Dannyl looked away to hide his dismay. “Ah,” was all he trusted himself to say.

“You are displeased.” Achati sounded worried. “I thought you two were getting along.”

Dannyl forced himself to shrug. “We are.” I suppose I can’t ask Achati to leave Tayend behind without causing all sorts of embarrassment and insult. “There is one possible setback, though. I suspect he has neglected to tell you something very important.”

Achati frowned. “What is that?”

Dannyl did not have to force a chuckle at the memory. “Tayend gets horribly, insufferably, near-mortally seasick.”

CHAPTER 14 SCHEMES

Lilia stared at her surroundings, not sure if she was awake or still dreaming. She lay still for some time, then concluded that she must be awake because there was no sense of impending threat in the room, as there had been in her dreams.

Nothing moved, nothing changed, and nothing made a noise or spoke. Ah. I was wrong. There is a kind of threat here, but it’s more subtle and sinister. It’s the complete lack of anything happening. It’s the threat of endless, unchanging hours going on and on into the future.

It was the threat of boredom and of wasted years. Of never being loved, or loving another. Of being forgotten.

But it could have been worse. Looking around the room, she took in the comfortable, well-made furniture and furnishings. Not many prisons looked like this. Perhaps none but this one did. The meal the night before had been as good, if not better, than those she’d eaten in the University Foodhall. The guards were polite and, if anything, seemed to feel sorry for her. Maybe she reminded them of their daughters.

I bet their daughters never get themselves in as much trouble as I have.

She winced then, as she remembered the brief meeting she’d had with her parents, who had come to the Guild to see her before she was sent off to the Lookout. She’d been too dazed to say much. She remembered saying “sorry” a lot. Her mother had asked simply “why?” and she couldn’t answer. How could she tell her mother that she loved another girl?

There had been tears. The memory was more painful now than the meeting had been at the time. She got up and dressed just to have something else to think about, her breath misting in the chill air. Someone had decided she should wear the sort of simple trousers and tunic that most servants wore, but of a better-quality cloth. A warm undershift was included. Robes would have been too thin and light to ward off the cold, even if she had been allowed to wear them. She shivered and suddenly felt the loss of her magic keenly.

A brazier had been installed in the room, with a flue that sent the smoke out through the exterior wall of the building. Beside it was a pile of wood and kindling. She guessed that, since the Lookout had been built for magicians, no fireplaces or chimneys had been included. When the Guard had taken over they would have worked out that braziers were the easiest non-magical way to keep the rooms warm.

Spark sticks had been provided, so she set about lighting the brazier. She didn’t try to use her powers, sure that the blockage Black Magician Sonea had placed on her mind was impenetrable, and that striving against it would be unpleasant. She could barely remember it being put in place. Her mind had been numb with shock.

Sonea asked me some questions, she recalled. I wasn’t of much use to her, but at least she was still trying to help. Or, at least, to find out who killed Naki’s father.

Would the Guild give up trying, now that she was imprisoned? She hoped not. Though Naki hadn’t liked her stepfather, she had been obviously distressed by his death. She deserved to know what had really happened.

Especially since she might be in danger. Whoever killed her father might come after her.

Lilia’s heart began to beat faster, but she took a few deep breaths and told herself that Naki could look after herself. She didn’t entirely believe it though. Naki was too easily distracted by the latest indulgence. How well would she defend herself when caught up in the seduction of roet?

Well, that’s something I won’t have any problems with. No more roet for me, here in my prison.

The thought sent a shiver of anxiety through her. She shook her head. It wasn’t as if she needed roet. Or even wanted it that much. But it would have helped her forget everything. To not care about the things she couldn’t change or do. To stop feeling so stupid for trying out the book’s instructions on black magic. To endure not knowing whether Naki was in danger or not. Perhaps even to smother the love she felt for Naki. Didn’t the songmakers and poets say that love only brought pain?

Had she not loved Naki, she might have felt resentment towards the girl getting them into this mess in the first place. Trouble is, her recklessness is part of what I love about her. Though maybe it isn’t a part I like so much any more.

The brazier was small, and her skin was prickling with cold. Getting up, she drew a blanket from the bed around her shoulders and paced the room. For a while she stood at one of the slim windows, looking down on the forest outside. It was the same forest that backed onto the Guild buildings. She had never explored it. Having grown up in the city, the prospect of entering a wild, animal-filled mass of trees was strange and a little frightening. From her high vantage point – on the second floor of a tower built on a ridge overlooking the forest – she could see that the spaces between the trees were packed with an untidy tangle of dead trunks and vegetation. She tried to imagine how a person might walk through the forest without tripping over. Probably very slowly.

When she grew bored with staring at the forest, she occupied herself by looking closely at objects in the room. All were practical. There were no books, no paper or writing tools. Would the guards bring her some, if she asked?

The door to the corridor was of heavy, quality wood. A small square of glass had obviously been installed as an afterthought, so guards could check where their prisoner was before they opened the door. There was a door between her room and the next. She had tried the handle the previous night, thinking it might lead to a second room – perhaps a more private washroom – but it would not turn. Approaching it again, she wondered what was beyond. Out of curiosity she pressed her ear to the wood.

To her surprise, she could hear a voice. A woman’s voice. She could not hear what the woman was saying, but the sound was quite musical. Perhaps the woman was singing.

A knock at the main door made her jump violently. Knowing that she would have been observed listening to her neighbour, Lilia stepped hurriedly away from the side door.

The main door opened and a smiling guard entered, carrying a tray. He was young – only a few years older than her. The tray held a typical Kyralian morning meal.

“A good morning, Lilia,” he said, putting the tray on the small dining table. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded.

“Warm enough? Need more blankets?”

She nodded, then shook her head.

“Would you like me to bring you anything?” His demeanour was strangely compliant for a man wearing a uniform usually associated with authority and force.

She considered. Better take up the offer. I’m going to be here a long time.

“Books?”

His smile widened. “I’ll see what I can rustle up for you. Anything else?”

She shook her head.

“Well, you’re easy to please. The one next door always wants thread made from reber wool, so she can make blankets and hats.”

Lilia glanced at the side wall between herself and her singing neighbour. “Who …?” she began.

For the first time, the guard’s smile fell away and he frowned. “Lorandra. The rogue magician that Black Magician Sonea found. Strange-looking woman, but polite and no trouble.”

Lilia nodded. She’d heard about this rogue. The woman’s son was also a magician, and he hadn’t been caught yet. He worked for a Thief, or something like that.

“My name’s Welor,” the guard told her. “I’m to make sure you’re comfortable while you stay with us at the Lookout. I’ll get you some books. In the meantime,” he nodded at the tray, “a bit of food will help warm you up.”

“Thanks,” she managed. He nodded and retreated to the door, smiling once more before he closed it.

For all the friendliness and obliging manner, the clunk of the lock turning was firm and unhesitating. With a sigh, Lilia sat down and started eating.

* * *

When Lorkin had arrived back at the Care Room that morning, Kalia was in an inexplicable mood. With a neutral tone and a blank expression, she told Lorkin that the old woman suffering from chill fever had died during the night.

She said nothing about Velyla, but he soon found the night’s secret Healing fell to the back of his mind as he began to worry about how the Traitors might react to the old woman’s death. He braced himself for accusations and censure.

None came. As the hours passed, all that was said by the patients and visitors to the Care Room was that the woman was very old already and, while it was sad that she had died, it had not been unexpected. Nobody cast any pointed looks in Lorkin’s direction. If Kalia felt any temptation to hint that he could have saved the old woman, she resisted it.

The teenaged boy was not doing well, however, and as Lorkin began to feel weariness from a short night’s sleep creeping in with the approaching evening, the boy’s parents arrived and told Kalia they were taking him back to their rooms.

The narrowed-eyed look Kalia cast at Lorkin sent a warning chill down his spine. He endeavoured to look puzzled, or at least tired and uncomprehending. She said nothing, and insisted on escorting the family.

Will I be waylaid on the way back to the men’s room tonight? he wondered. How long will it be before Kalia works out what’s going on? If she hasn’t already.

Drawing a little magic, he soothed away the tiredness in his body and turned back to the task he’d been engaged in before the family arrived. Not long after, he heard footsteps from the entrance and looked up to see if it was a new patient.

Evar smiled and nodded at Lorkin, glanced around the room, then came over. His nose was red and his eyes puffy.

“What great timing you have,” Lorkin said.

“What do you mean?” Evar asked, blinking with false innocence. He coughed. “Urgh,” he said. “I hate chill fever.”

“You have chill fever?”

“I have a sore throat.”

Lorkin chuckled, indicated that Evar should follow him, then headed for the cures Kalia had brought out of her storeroom for the day.

“Where’s Kalia?” he asked.

Evar shrugged. “On her way to somewhere. I didn’t see where exactly. I just saw she was out and about and came straight here.”

Lorkin handed his friend a small measure of the tea. “You know the dosage?”

“Of course. Had it every year for as many years as I can remember.”

“And yet you’re a magician,” Lorkin said. Not that Guild magicians never succumbed to illnesses. They tended to recover quickly though. Even if Evar did have chill fever, Lorkin would not have been surprised if he woke up tomorrow completely well again.

Evar looked around. “How is it going?”

“A little better. We’ll start seeing fewer people soon, mainly because the fever is running out of people to infect.”

“I was starting to think I’d evaded it this y––”

“Lorkin.”

They both looked up to see Kalia standing in the entryway. She crossed her arms and strode toward him, her firm footsteps echoing in the room. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

“Uh, oh,” Evar breathed. He took a step back as Kalia approached. She stopped a little closer to Lorkin than might be considered normal or comfortable, and glared at him.

Glared up at him, Lorkin noted. It was petty, but there was something comical about her trying to physically intimidate him when she was at least a handspan shorter. He hoped his face was as expressionless as he was striving to make it.

“Did you heal Velyla with magic?” she asked, speaking slowly and in a voice that was low, but still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

A rustle of cloth filled the room as the patients and visitors shifted to watch the confrontation; then silence.

“Yes,” Lorkin replied. “With her parents’ permission,” he added.

Kalia’s eyes widened, then narrowed again. “So you went to their rooms without me, despite my orders—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I didn’t go to their room.”

A crease between her eyebrows deepened. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it without speaking a word. Her chin rose and she gave him an imperious glare, before turning on her heels and stalking out of the room again.

A murmur of voices arose once she was gone. Lorkin looked at Evar, who smiled in reply.

“She’s mad. She’s very, very mad. But you were expecting that, weren’t you. Did the magical Healing work?”

Lorkin grimaced. “Judging from her reaction, it looks like it might have.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Evar sounded surprised.

“No. Magical Healing can’t cure everything. A fever like this one could still be fatal, if the patient’s body is incapable of fighting it. All magic can do is Heal the damage and restore some strength.”

Evar shook his head. “If Kalia’s allies had known that, they might not have been so keen to play this waiting game with you.”

“Well, I hope they’re enjoying this game, Evar,” Lorkin replied curtly. “Because I don’t like playing with people’s lives.”

Evar looked at Lorkin thoughtfully, then nodded. “If the girl lives, then at least you’ll have that to feel good about.”

Lorkin sighed. “Yes.” He looked at his friend. “I don’t suppose you could find out how she is for me?”

His friend straightened. “I can do that. If Kalia is back by then I’ll wink if all is well, shrug if they can’t tell, and cross my eyes if she’s doing badly.” He grinned. “Good luck.”

Turning away, Evar headed for the corridor. Lorkin watched him go, then someone called his name and his attention returned to the patients.

“The Westside hospice sees fewer local patients,” Sonea explained as she led Dorrien down the main corridor. “But that is more than made up for by the foreign patients, since we are closer to the Marina and the Market.”

Dorrien chuckled. “I guess they don’t have hospices in their homelands.”

“Actually, some of the Allied Lands do,” she told him. “Vin and Lonmar have a few each, and Lan is in the process of opening their own. They were set up either by Healers who were inspired to start hospices elsewhere, or Healers from those lands who wanted to help their own people in the same way as Kyralia does.”

“Not Elyne?”

She shook her head. “Not for lack of trying. The Elyne king won’t allow it. The Elynes still have their guild of non-magical healers, founded long before the Guild, who don’t look fondly on magicians robbing them of their trade. Now, the treatment rooms here are set up much the same way …”

Sonea moved to a door bearing the number she had been told to look for. She knocked softly, and soon afterwards the door opened and the familiar face of one of the Healers from Northside grinned out at them.

“Go on in,” Sylia said, slipping out, waving them inside, then closing the door behind them.

The room was similar to those at the Northside hospice. A table divided it, with a couple of seats for patients and anyone they might have brought with them, and a seat for the Healer on the other side of the table.

Instead of a Healer, Cery was waiting for them. He smiled, but his posture was hunched and tense. His gaze moved from Sonea to Dorrien.

“So this is your new assistant and bodyguard?” he asked.

Sonea snorted softly. “Assistant, yes. As for whether Dorrien is my bodyguard or I his …” She looked at Dorrien, who smiled crookedly. “We’ll have to see how things turn out. Cery, this is Dorrien. Dorrien, this Cery.”

The two men nodded politely.

“Have you been waiting long?” Dorrien asked.

Cery shrugged. “A while. I got here early.”

“Checking the place out?”

“Of course.”

“How’s business?” Sonea asked.

Cery’s smile slipped away, leaving him looking gaunt and tired. “Not good. It is a good thing I’ve stowed plenty away in case of times like these.”

“Will it last?”

He grimaced. “A year at most. I’d be tempted to leave you to it and get out of town earlier if it weren’t for …” He spread his hands.

Anyi, she thought. I hope she manages to slip away without raising suspicion.

Cery had received a message saying that Anyi would be visiting a Healer here. They could only hope it had come from his daughter and wasn’t part of a plot to ambush him. Which is why Dorrien and I are here.

They chatted for several more minutes. She had warned Dorrien not to ask for details about Cery’s business, and thankfully he was following her advice. If he didn’t know about anything he was supposed to report to the Guard, he wasn’t in danger of breaking any laws for the sake of catching Skellin.

A knock at the door brought all three around to face the entrance. Sonea stepped forward and opened the door a crack. She sighed in relief to see Anyi and Sylia waiting. Opening the door, she thanked Sylia and let Anyi in.

Cery rose to his feet, his eyes roving all over his daughter protectively.

“Are you … is everything … is that a bruise?”

“I’m fine,” Anyi told him. “I told Rek that I thought I might have broken my wrist in practice and I’d better get it checked out. An injured guard isn’t as good at her job as an uninjured one.”

“What has he got you guarding?”

She smiled. “His mistress. She seems to think that ‘guard’ means ‘servant’, and I’m having some fun convincing her otherwise.”

Cery sat down again. “So. What news do you have for us?”

Anyi looked around the room, her mouth forming an unconvincing pout. “Isn’t my fine company enough? Haven’t you missed me?”

“You wouldn’t have risked this meeting if you didn’t have news.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You could at least pretend to have missed me.” She crossed her arms. “Well, as it happens, I do have news. I know for sure that Rek has been given tasks to do by Jemmi that were favours for Skellin.”

“Jemmi is a Thief,” Sonea murmured to Dorrien.

“What animal is a Jemmi?” he murmured back.

“The Thieves don’t always adopt animal names now.”

“Ah.”

“How often?” Cery asked his daughter.

“Often enough.” Anyi’s eyes gleamed. “There’s a delivery of roet happening in a few weeks. I can try to find out where. I don’t know if Skellin will be there, though.”

“But Skellin’s men will be?” Dorrien asked.

Anyi nodded.

Dorrien looked at Sonea, his eyes bright with excitement. “So we catch them and you can read their minds and find out where Skellin is.” He frowned. “Wait … that would be breaking the rules for black magicians, wouldn’t it?”

Sonea shook her head. “Osen has given Kallen and I permission to read minds if we need to. But the real problem is: what if Skellin’s men don’t know where Skellin is? We’ll have revealed that Anyi is a spy for nothing.”

“Hmm,” Cery said. He looked at Anyi. “Though I’d rather have you back with me, we should wait until we learn of a meeting that Skellin will definitely go to.”

Anyi shrugged. “I’ll keep my ears open. Something better is bound to come along.”

They discussed strategies and ways to communicate until there was a tap at the door. Sylia reported that it was being noted they were taking a little long for a Healing consultation. Anyi farewelled her father and left. Cery stared at the door after she had gone, then sighed and looked at Sonea.

“Heard anything from Lorkin?”

She winced at the pang of worry that went through her, and shook her head. “But Dannyl sent word that the Traitors might be amenable to carrying messages between us, so I’ve sent him one in case they are.”

“That’s a start,” he said, managing a smile.

She nodded. “I’d better get on with showing Dorrien around. Good to see you Cery. Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” he replied.

After she and Dorrien had left the room, Sylia slipped back in to arrange smuggling Cery out of the hospice. Sonea led Dorrien down the corridor to the storeroom.

“That is one very worried man,” Dorrien said, when he’d checked to ensure they were alone.

“Yes,” Sonea agreed.

“I think of my daughters, and I’m not sure I could send either of them into danger to spy for me.”

“No, but he didn’t exactly send her. She sent herself. She’s quite a determined young woman.”

Dorrien looked thoughtful. “She would have grown up in the harder part of the city, wouldn’t she? And she’d have to grow up tough, being a Thief’s daughter.”

“She didn’t grow up under Cery’s protection. When her mother left him, she took Anyi with her. She was a proud woman, and wouldn’t accept Cery’s help even when they were desperately poor. Anyi grew up fast and tough, but for other reasons.”

“Still, to have lost a wife and children and then watch your only daughter put herself in danger …” He shook his head.

“That’s why we must be careful. We must be sure that when we find Skellin, there is no chance it will put Anyi or Cery in danger.”

Dorrien nodded in agreement. Good, Sonea thought. I was beginning to think he is getting a bit too eager to prove himself, and might seize the first opportunity that came along if I wasn’t there to stop him. Now he’ll think through the risks before he acts.

Hopefully, with Anyi playing spy, a better opportunity would come along soon – and not just because they needed to catch Skellin. Cery looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.

CHAPTER 15 UNINVITED COMPANY

Sachaka traded mainly with lands to its north and east, across the Aduna Sea, and this was more apparent at the docks than anywhere else in the city. Dannyl was startled by the size of the exotic ships moored there, and the sheer number of them. Masts waved like a great leafless forest, stretching from the shore out into the broad bay of Arvice.

The Guild House slaves were unlashing travelling trunks from the back of the carriage and lifting them down with the help of Achati’s two personal slaves. Dannyl noticed how Achati was following the procedure closely. A Kyralian magician would have moved the trunks with magic, but Sachakans did not lower themselves to such menial work. The slaves were using ropes and a winch built into the back of the vehicle for the purpose, but from the way the four thin men were having little trouble lifting the heavy trunks, Dannyl suspected they were getting magical help from their master anyway.

Achati’s trunk required two men to carry it. Tayend’s was of about the same size. Dannyl’s was considerably smaller. Sometimes having to wear a uniform for most of your life has its advantages, Dannyl thought. But he had also brought an additional trunk – more like a large box – containing writing implements, notebooks, and space for any records or objects he might acquire.

A sigh drew Dannyl’s attention away. He glanced at Merria, whose scowl softened only slightly as she met his gaze. His assistant was still angry at being left behind. She had barely spoken to him since learning that Tayend was going on the research trip as well.

He resisted the urge to look at Tayend. The Elyne Ambassador was standing beside Dannyl, rocking gently in his elaborate, expensive shoes. Dannyl had barely spoken to Tayend after returning from Achati’s house and asking his former lover why he wanted to travel with them.

“Oh, as Ambassador I really ought to learn as much as I can about this country,” Tayend had replied. “I’ve seen plenty of Arvice. Time to see something beyond the city walls.”

Dannyl hadn’t heard Tayend and Merria conversing, either. With most of its occupants not talking to each other, the Guild House had been very quiet.

He considered Tayend’s excuse. Was that all there was to it? I doubt he’s coming because he’s interested in my research. Or is he? If he knows about the storestone he might be as concerned as Achati and I are about the possibility another may exist or be created. But how could he know about the storestone? I haven’t told him. Surely Achati hasn’t …

Maybe there’s another reason Tayend wanted to accompany them. He had already shown he was aware of Achati’s personal interest in Dannyl. Was he trying to ensure Dannyl and Achati did not become lovers?

Dannyl frowned. Why would he do that? Jealousy? No. Tayend was the one to point out that he and I are no longer a couple. He never said he wanted to change that.

Beside him, Tayend cleared his throat. He paused, then drew in a breath to speak.

“Ambassador?”

Dannyl reluctantly turned to look at him.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me coming along?”

“Of course not,” Dannyl replied.

He returned to watching the slaves. Achati’s pair were not the same two as those who had accompanied him on the search for Lorkin. Dannyl wondered what had happened to Varn. Then his thoughts slipped back to his companions as he sensed that Merria was staring at him. He turned to look at her, and she smiled. This struck him as odd. There was amusement in the smile, and he couldn’t help feeling it was at his expense.

“Here is the captain,” Achati announced. He waved at the ship the slaves were carrying the trunks toward. It was smaller than the exotic trading vessels surrounding it, intended to transport only passengers – important passengers. On its cabin had been carved the name Inava, inlaid with gold that sparkled in the sun. A Sachakan dressed in all the finery Dannyl would expect of an Ashaki was standing on the deck, waiting for them to come aboard along the narrow bridge strung between wharf and ship. The slaves carried the trunks toward a second bridge further down the vessel. “Time to say your goodbyes,” Achati added.

Dannyl and Tayend turned to Merria. She smiled brightly.

“Have a good trip, Ambassadors, Ashaki,” she said, nodding politely. Then a knowing, slightly smug look entered her eyes. “I hope you don’t get on each other’s nerves.”

So that’s what she’s finding so amusing, Dannyl mused. “Goodbye, Lady Merria,” he replied. “I know I am leaving the Guild House in capable hands.”

Her smile faded to a resigned look. “Thanks.” She backed toward the carriage and made a shooing motion. “Don’t keep the captain waiting.”

Turning away, Dannyl followed Achati to the bridge, and across it onto the ship’s deck. Introductions were made, and the captain welcomed them to his vessel.

“Are you ready to set sail?” he asked of Achati.

“I am. Is there any need to delay?” Achati replied.

“Not at all,” the captain assured him. He walked away, calling out orders to the slaves. Achati led Dannyl and Tayend to a safe position from which to watch proceedings.

“This will be a nice change from city life,” Achati said as the ship moved away from the wharf.

Dannyl nodded. “It’s been too long since I’ve travelled on a ship.”

“Yes. An adventure for all of us,” Tayend said, his voice a little strained. Dannyl noted that his former lover was already looking a little pale.

Achati smiled at the Elyne Ambassador. It was an indulgent smile. Almost a fond one. Suddenly the possibility that Achati wanted Tayend with them occurred to Dannyl. He had assumed the Ashaki had been politically and socially cornered by Tayend. He turned to the Elyne.

“Let me know if you need any assistance,” he offered.

Tayend nodded in thanks. “I have the cures Achati recommended.”

“As your guide, I am obliged to ensure your journey isn’t too onerous,” Achati told him. “But remember: they may have other effects.”

Tayend inclined his head. “I haven’t forgotten. I … I think I will sit down now.”

He moved to a bench a few steps away. Dannyl resisted the urge to look at Achati and search for any signs of … he wasn’t sure what.

Maybe he’s interested in being more than friends with Tayend, too.

Maybe they already are. Maybe Tayend’s warning about Achati was spurred by jealousy …

Oh, don’t be ridiculous!

As the ship moved further from shore, Dannyl found himself wishing that Achati – or even Tayend – would strike up a conversation so that he had a distraction from the suspicions his mind was conjuring up. When neither spoke, he considered what subject he could raise himself.

He knew what he’d like to talk about, but with Tayend present he couldn’t speak of what he hoped to learn on this journey in case the Elyne didn’t know of the storestone.

Then Achati gestured toward the shore.

“See that building? That’s one of the few mansions over two hundred years old not built in the Sachakan style. It was built by …”

Dannyl let out a silent sigh of relief. Thank you, Achati, he thought. Though I think you’ve just condemned yourself to filling in silences with facts and history for the rest of the trip, at least it’s a solution to days of awkward silence.

Lilia had always assumed that imprisonment was meant to, among other things, give someone nothing to do but think about their crime.

I don’t think it’s working for me, she mused. Oh, I’ve spent plenty of time regretting learning black magic and feeling a fool about it. But I’ve spent a lot more thinking about Naki, and that feels a lot worse.

Even when she tried to think of something else, in particular whether Lord Leiden’s murderer had been found yet, she knew she was really worrying about Naki.

Since the Guild had not found any proof that she had killed Leiden, she had decided that she couldn’t have. She hoped, for Naki’s sake, that someone discovered who had. If Leiden’s murderer is found, surely someone will come and tell me. It wouldn’t make any difference to her punishment, since that was for learning black magic, but at least Naki would stop hating her. Black Magician Sonea would tell me, she thought. It would be even better if Naki did. Maybe she’ll make regular visits … no, best not get my hopes up. Ten years is a long time. But if she loves me like I love her, surely she’ll visit.

She’d tried to turn her thoughts to happier ones, but something always turned them sour. It was like when they were at the brazier house and she’d imagined someone was looking at them. Her mind always managed to shift to gloomier matters.

At times she sought distraction, and walked around the room, putting her ear to the side door. Occasionally, she could hear the other woman, humming to herself.

Returning once more to the window, beside which she’d pulled up a chair, she leaned on the sill. At least the view outside changed occasionally, even if it was just a bird flying over the treetops, or the angle of the shadows as the hours slowly passed. She was growing increasingly sick of the sight of her room.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. She sat up straight and turned to stare at the main door. She could see part of a face in the window, then it vanished. The lock clattered. The door opened.

Welor entered carrying a tray. But I’m not even hungry …

“A good evening to you, Lady Lilia,” he said, placing the tray on the dining table. “Your meal – and I have something else I promised.”

He took two hard rectangular objects out from where they were wedged between his arm and his side. Her heart leapt as she recognised what they were. Books!

She was on her feet and hurrying forward before she realised it. He grinned as she took them from him.

“They’re from the Guards’ library,” Welor told her. “Maybe not as interesting as books on magic, but there are some exciting stories in them.”

She read the titles and felt her heart sink a little. Battles of the Vin Fleet before the Alliance was imprinted in tiny letters across one cover, and Strategies for Effective Control of Crowds During Processions and Events was surrounded by an elaborately decorated frame on the other. She looked up at Welor, saw that he was watching her expectantly, and hoped her dis appointment didn’t show.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s all I could get my hands on,” he explained. “Until I have a day off.”

“It’s more than I should ever expect,” she told him, looking down.

“Well … we are supposed to make sure you’re comfortable.” He shrugged. “If you like those, I can get more. Or maybe … my wife likes those romantic adventures. I don’t know if they’re to your taste, but I’m sure she’d let you borrow them.”

Lilia smiled. “I could give them a try. If she thinks they’re good.”

He grinned. “She likes them a lot.” He stood a little straighter. “Well, best eat before it gets cold.”

He made a sketchy bow and left.

Since there was nobody to offend by reading at dinner, Lilia examined the first book as she ate. The introduction was long and dry, and the first chapter not much better. She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed that Welor had read and enjoyed such a challenging book, or not. Not all men who joined the Guard could read, and those of the classes who could afford an education but resorted to a career in the Guard usually did so because they weren’t smart enough for higher-paid jobs.

Perhaps Welor is an exception. Perhaps he likes being in the Guard. She pursed her lips in thought. But how then did he end up with the lowly job of prison guard?

It was a mystery she would have to unravel. Or maybe it wasn’t much of a mystery; maybe being reduced to living in a smaller world only made it seem so.

Finishing the meal, she picked up the books and headed toward the window, but as she passed the side door she heard three sharp taps.

She froze, then turned to look at the door. Her heart beat four … five times, and then the taps came again.

This is crazy. The slightest sound from outside and I’m all jumpy. Moving toward the door, she bent and put her ear to it.

“Don’t be fooled by what he says about the wife. He likes you.”

Lilia leapt backwards and stared at the door. She felt a flash of anger and moved back again.

“You think he’s lying? That he hasn’t got a wife?”

A low noise, muffled by the door, came from the other room. Possibly a chuckle.

“Maybe not. Or maybe he’s telling you about her to make you trust him.”

“Surely he’d tell me about her to make sure I didn’t get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea about what?”

“About him doing favours for me. Being nice.”

“Maybe. But you watch out. If he starts telling you how lonely he is, don’t be surprised if he wants something in return for those favours.”

Lilia pulled away from the door a little. Did this woman have something to gain from Lilia not trusting Welor?

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Just trying to help. You’re young. You’ve never been a prisoner before. You want to feel safe, but you shouldn’t let that desire blind you to the dangers of your situation.”

Lilia considered that. Though it made her feel uneasy, what the woman had said made sense. I’ve already got too comfortable in this place, and it’s only been two days!

“My name is Lorandra,” the voice said.

Leaning forward, Lilia rested her head on the door. “Mine is Lilia.”

“I’m here because foreign magicians have to join the Guild or not use magic,” Lorandra said. “I didn’t see why I should have to join if I didn’t want to.”

Though Lilia already knew why the woman was locked away, suddenly it seemed a little unfair. Why should a foreign magician have to join the Guild? Maybe if this woman hadn’t been forced to choose between the Guild and hiding, she would not have got mixed up with Thieves.

“Why are you here?” Lorandra asked. “If you don’t mind telling.”

“I’m here because I learned black magic – but we were just being silly and I didn’t expect what I was doing to work.”

The woman didn’t speak for a long moment.

“That is the magic the ones in black use?”

“Yes.” Lilia found herself nodding, despite knowing Lorandra couldn’t see her, and made herself stop. “Black Magicians Sonea and Kallen.”

“They bound your powers, too?”

“Yes.”

“And you say you didn’t expect what you were doing to work. Do you mean trying to learn it?”

“Yes. They told us we couldn’t learn unless a black magician taught us, so I thought what I was doing was safe.”

“So they were wrong. That doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Trying to learn it is forbidden, too.”

“Ah. So why did you try?”

Lilia regarded the door thoughtfully. She probably shouldn’t be talking to this woman. But who else was there to talk to? And so long as she didn’t describe how she learned black magic – and she kept her desire for Naki to herself, too – she wouldn’t be telling Lorandra anything she shouldn’t. And it wasn’t as if Lorandra was going to be able to use or pass on any information Lilia told her.

Taking a deep breath, she began to explain.

Lorkin wasn’t sure why he hadn’t simply walked out of the Care Room and gone to bed, or at least ignored Kalia’s order to start early. Kalia had kept him back so late he’d had less than four hours’ sleep on average over the last two nights.

She was, no doubt, punishing him for managing to Heal with magic without generating disapproval among the Traitors, instead generating some for her. It was very likely she was also trying to stop him visiting and Healing the young man sick with chill fever.

But she couldn’t keep him working all night, and eventually she’d had to let him go. He hadn’t been surprised when he was waylaid again on the way to the men’s room, and taken to see the sick young man. Already struggling, due to lack of sleep, to recover properly from the first Healing session, he was left almost staggering with exhaustion after a second. He had no magic left to Heal away the tiredness.

Tomorrow I will ignore Kalia’s early start. In fact, I may not have much choice. Once I’m asleep I suspect it’ll take an advancing army to wake me.

He turned a corner and forced his legs to carry him onwards. It wasn’t far to the men’s room now. Just another hundred paces – or two …

Something settled against his cheek. He reached up to brush it away and realised, simultaneously, that he couldn’t see any more, that there was a dry vegetable smell in the air, and that something was wrapping itself firmly around his shoulders.

A sack? Yes. It’s a sack. He tried to push it back off his head but something smashed against his back and knocked him to the ground. He instinctively reached for magic. Ah, but I have none. Strong hands took hold of his arms and forced them behind his back, and he knew there was nothing he could do.

How did they know? Or was this deliberate? Kalia wasn’t just keeping me back late to punish me, was she?

To his surprise, the sacking covering his face lifted, though not far enough that he could see anything beyond the floor and two pairs of legs. He took in a deep breath of clean air.

But that was a mistake. Something was pressed over his mouth and nose, and a familiar smell filled his nostrils. Though he caught and held his breath, enough of the drug had entered his body to set his senses reeling. He gasped and began to pass out.

The last thing he heard was a low, hoarse voice, laced with disgust and satisfaction.

“Too easy,” it said. “Pick him up. Follow me.”