The High Lord (30 page)

“Use
of black magic,” he repeated. “You know what that means.”

Rothen nodded. He could barely breathe. The Guild, by law, must execute Akkarin. Lorlen was not going to be able to prevent a confrontation now.

And I have nothing to lose by trying to prevent Sonea from being expelled.

From where he stood, Lorlen could see heads shaking and arms moving in rapid, expressive gestures. Some magicians were still and silent, obviously stunned by this revelation.

Akkarin stood calmly, watching it all.

Lorlen considered how the Hearing had gone so far. As he’d expected, Captain Barran’s news had caused the magicians to question the evidence, and the possibility that Akkarin was the murderer. Some had asked why the High Lord would walk boldly out into the street after committing a crime. Others had proposed that Akkarin had deliberately arranged for a witness to come forward and then be discredited so that any other witnesses might be dismissed, too.

This could not be proven, however. More than one magician had noted the cleanly cut edges of the scrap of cloth. Surely Akkarin would have noticed if Jolen had cut away part of his robes. He would not leave such a damning piece of evidence behind.

Lorlen was sure Akkarin would not have been found guilty of murder if the books on black magic had not been discovered. But now that the Guild knew of Akkarin’s secret, it would believe him capable of anything. The murder charge was irrelevant. If the Guild followed its law, it would vote for his execution.

Lorlen drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. There were tantalizing references to a group of magicians who used black magic in Akkarin’s notebooks. Lord Sarrin was worried about the possibility that such a group still existed. Akkarin had said there were good reasons for what he did.

Now, at last, Lorlen could finally ask what it was.

Standing up, he raised his hands for silence. The clamor died away surprisingly quickly. The magicians were eager to hear Akkarin questioned, Lorlen guessed.

“Does anyone have further evidence to offer this Hearing?”

A moment of silence followed, then somewhere to the right came a voice.

“I have, Administrator.”

Rothen’s voice was calm and clear. All faces in the hall turned toward the Alchemist. Lorlen stared at him in dismay.

“Lord Rothen,” he forced himself to say. “Please come down to the floor.”

Rothen descended to stand next to Balkan. He glanced at Akkarin, and the anger was clear in his face. Following his gaze, Lorlen saw that Akkarin was looking up at him. He slipped his hand in his pocket and felt the smoothness of the ring.

—I
asked him to stay silent,
Lorlen said.

—
Perhaps you didn’t ask nicely enough.

Rothen dropped to one knee and swore the oath of truth. Standing up again, he looked at the Higher Magicians.

“Sonea told me that the High Lord practiced black magic over two years ago.”

The hall filled with whispers and murmuring. “She had witnessed him taking power from his servant. Though she did not understand what she had seen, I did. I…” He looked down. “I had heard much about the High Lord’s strength and feared what he might do if challenged by the Guild. I hesitated to speak out. Before I could decide what to do, the High Lord learned that we had discovered his secret. He claimed Sonea’s guardianship, and since then she has been his hostage, ensuring that I would not reveal his crime.”

As exclamations of anger and outrage filled the hall, Lorlen sighed with relief. Rothen had concealed Lorlen’s part in it, and had risked nothing by mentioning his own. Then he saw why Rothen had spoken out. By revealing that Sonea had been Akkarin’s victim, he might have given her a hope of reprieve.

Looking around the hall, Lorlen read shock and concern in the magicians’ faces. He noted that Dannyl was staring at Rothen in open-mouthed amazement. He also noted that the novices now gazed at her in sympathy and even admiration. For a long time they had thought her unjustly favored by the High Lord. Instead she had been his prisoner.

Is she now?
Lorlen wondered.

—No.

Lorlen looked from Akkarin to Sonea. He recalled the way she had obeyed Akkarin’s every word when they were arrested in the underground room! He remembered her expression as she had joined Akkarin in the Entrance Hall.
Something
had changed her opinion of Akkarin. He felt a stab of impatience.

Lorlen raised his hand again. The magicians quietened reluctantly. He looked at Rothen.

“Do you have anything more to tell us, Lord Rothen?”

“No, Administrator.”

Lorlen looked up at the hall. “Has anyone any further evidence to offer this Hearing?” When no answer came he looked down at Akkarin.

“Akkarin of House Velan, will you answer our questions truthfully?”

The corner of Akkarin’s mouth twitched. “I will.”

“Then swear it.”

Akkarin looked up above Lorlen’s head, then dropped to one knee.

“I swear that all I speak in this Hearing will be the truth.”

The Guildhall was utterly silent. As Akkarin rose to his feet, Lorlen turned his attention to Sonea.

“Sonea, will you answer our questions truthfully?”

Her eyes widened. “I will.”

She dropped to one knee and spoke the oath. When she had risen to her feet again, Lorlen considered all the questions he wanted to ask.
Begin with the accusations,
he decided.

“Akkarin,” he turned to face his former friend. “Did you kill Lord Jolen?”

“No.”

“Have you studied and practiced black magic?”

“Yes.”

A murmur rose in the hall and quickly subsided.

“How long have you been studying and practicing black magic?”

The slightest frown passed over Akkarin’s face.

“The first time… was eight years ago, before I returned to the Guild.”

A momentary silence followed that revelation, and then the hall filled with the buzz of speculation.

“Did you teach yourself, or did another teach you?”

“I learned from another magician.”

“Who was this magician?”

“I did not learn his name. I know only that he was Sachakan.”

“So he was not of the Guild.”

“No.”

Sachakan?
Lorlen swallowed as foreboding began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

“Explain to us how you came to learn black magic from a Sachakan magician.”

Akkarin smiled. “I was wondering if you would ever get around to asking.”

Sonea closed her eyes as Akkarin began his story. He spoke briefly of his quest to find ancient magical knowledge, and how what he had unearthed led him to enter Sachaka. There was a self-mocking tone to his voice, as if he thought that young man he had been was a fool.

Then he described his encounter with the Ichani, Dakova. Though she had heard him recount this before, she had been too caught up in what he was telling her to notice the slight hint of remembered dismay and horror in his voice. Then bitterness crept in as he related the years he had been a slave, and the cruel ways of the Ichani.

She realized he had probably never told anyone about that time in his life until the day he had related the story to her beside the spring. He had hidden that part of his life for years, and not just because it revealed that he had learned and used black magic. It pained and humiliated him to recount what he had seen and endured.

Opening her eyes, she almost expected to see some of that pain in his face, but though his expression was serious, no emotion showed.

To the magicians in the hall, he appeared to be calm and in control. They probably didn’t notice the tension in his voice. Neither would she have a few months ago. Somehow she had grown so familiar with his manner that she could see a little of what lay underneath.

She heard regret in his voice as he told of the Ichani who had offered to teach him black magic so he might murder his master. He explained that he did not expect to survive; that, even if he managed to kill Dakova, the Ichani’s brother, Kariko, would hunt him down in revenge. He spoke of killing the other slaves, and then Dakova, with cold simplicity. Then he described his long journey home in a few short sentences.

His voice softened a little as he spoke of his relief at reaching the Guild, and how he had only wanted to forget Sachaka and black magic. He told how he had accepted the role of High Lord to keep himself busy, and so he could more easily keep an eye on the Ichani. He paused then, and the hall was utterly silent.

“Two years after my election I heard rumors of strange, ritual murders in the city,” he said. “The Guard said the victims were marked in a certain way to indicate that they had been punished by the Thieves. I knew better.

“I followed the cases closely, and disguised myself so I could enter the slums, where the murders had taken place, to question and listen. When I found the murderer, he was exactly what I had suspected: a Sachakan black magician.

“Fortunately, he was weak and easily subdued. From his mind I read that he was a slave, freed and taught black magic in exchange for undertaking a dangerous mission. Kariko had sent him to gauge the strength of the Guild and, if the opportunity arose, assassinate me.

“Dakova had told Kariko much of what he had learned from me, including that the Guild had banned black magic and was much weaker than it had once been. But Kariko dared not attack the Guild alone. He needed to convince others to join him. If he could prove that the Guild was as weak as his brother had claimed, he would easily find allies among the Ichani.”

Akkarin looked up. Following his gaze, Sonea saw he was looking at the King. The monarch watched Akkarin intently. Sonea felt a spark of hope. Even if the King did not completely believe Akkarin’s story, surely he would feel it prudent to check. He might allow Akkarin to live and stay at the Guild until…

The King’s gaze suddenly shifted to hers. She found her self staring into a pair of unwavering green eyes. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to hold that gaze.
It is true,
she thought at him.
Believe him.

“What did you do with this slave you found in the city?” Lorlen asked.

Sonea looked back down at the Administrator, then at Akkarin.

“I could not set him free to continue preying upon the people of Imardin,” Akkarin said. “Nor could I bring him to the Guild. He would relay everything he saw, including our weaknesses, to Kariko. I had no choice but to kill him.”

Lorlen’s eyebrows rose. Before he could ask further questions, Akkarin continued, his tone dark with warning.

“In the last five years I have tracked down and killed nine of these spies. Through them I have seen Kariko’s attempts at uniting the Ichani fail twice. This time, I fear, he will succeed.” Akkarin’s eyes narrowed. “The last spy he sent was no slave. She was Ichani, and had no doubt read Lord Jolen’s mind and learned all that I hoped to prevent the Sachakans from discovering. If she had made Jolen’s death look natural, and left his family and servants alive, none of us would have thought to question it, I might not have realized the Ichani knew the truth about the Guild. Instead, by trying to make it look as though I killed him she has forced me to reveal the existence of the Ichani to you.” He shook his head. “I only wish that was to your advantage.”

“So you believe this Ichani woman murdered Lord Jolen?”

“Yes.”

“And these spies are the reason why you started practicing black magic again?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us of this five years ago?”

‘The threat was not great then. I hoped that, by killing off the spies, I might eventually convince the other Ichani that the Guild was not as weak as Kariko claimed. Or Kariko might eventually give up trying to gain their support. Or one of the Ichani might kill him; he did not have his brother’s protection any more.”

“Yet you should have let us decide that.”

“It was too great a risk,” Akkarin replied. “If I was publicly accused of using black magic, the Ichani would learn of it and know Kariko was right. If I managed to convince you of the truth, you might decide that learning black magic yourselves was the only way to protect Kyralia. I would not have that on my conscience.”

The Higher Magicians exchanged glances. Lorlen looked thoughtful.

“You have used black magic to strengthen yourself, so that you could fight these spies, and this Ichani woman,” he said slowly.

“Yes.” Akkarin nodded. “But it was strength given willingly, by my servant and lately by Sonea.”

Sonea heard indrawn breaths. “You used black magic on Sonea?” Lady Vinara gasped.

“No.” Akkarin smiled. “There was no need. She is a magician, and can give her strength to another in more conventional ways.”

Lorlen frowned and glanced at Sonea. “How much did Sonea know of all this before today?”

“All,” Akkarin replied. “She had, as Lord Rothen pointed out, accidentally discovered more than she should have, and I had to take steps to ensure she and her former guardian remained silent. I recently decided to allow her to know the truth.”

“Why?”

“I realized that someone should know of the Ichani threat other than myself.”

Lorlen’s eyes narrowed. “So you chose a novice? Not a magician, or one of the Higher Magicians?”

“Yes. She is strong, and her knowledge of the slums has proved useful.”

“How did you convince her?”

“I took her to see one of the spies, then taught her to read his mind. She saw more than enough there to know that what I told her of my own experiences in Sachaka was true.”

Murmuring filled the hall as the implications of that sank in. The eyes of the Higher Magicians turned to Sonea. She felt her face warming and looked away.

“You told me that you couldn’t teach another that skill,” Lorlen said quietly. “You lied.”

“No, I didn’t lie.” Akkarin smiled. “I couldn’t teach another, at the time, or you would have realized it had been taught to me, and asked where I had learned it.”

Lorlen frowned. “What else have you taught Sonea?”