The High Lord (32 page)

“What is that?” Vinara asked.

Balkan turned to the left. “Look at Sonea closely. Do you sense it?”

They turned to stare at the novice.

“Power,” Sarrin said.

“Yes,” Balkan said. “A great deal of it. She hasn’t yet learned to hide it as he does.” He paused. “She said he was teaching her black magic two nights ago. I don’t know how long this training ought to take, but he claims he learned the gist of it in one lesson. Sonea didn’t have this aura of strength when she was practicing in the Arena a week ago. I’m sure I would have sensed it if she had. I think this woman she admits to killing was the source of her sudden increase in strength. Sonea could not have become so powerful in one night by killing any ordinary woman.”

They turned to regard the novice in thoughtful silence.

“Why did Akkarin attempt to hide Sonea’s involvement?” Sarrin wondered aloud.

“And why did she decide to reveal it?” Vinara added.

“Perhaps he wanted to ensure someone with the ability to fight the Sachakans remained alive,” Sarrin said. He frowned. “That does suggest that the books, alone, are not enough.”

“Perhaps he just wanted to protect her,” Vinara said.

“Lord Balkan,” a new voice spoke.

The Warrior looked up in surprise. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

All heads turned to face the King. He was leaning over the back of the empty High Lord’s chair, his green eyes bright and piercing.

“Do you believe the Guild is capable of driving Akkarin out of the Allied Lands?”

Balkan hesitated. “I honestly don’t know, Your Majesty. Even if we managed it, it would exhaust most of our magicians. Should these Sachakan magicians exist, they may see it as the perfect opportunity to invade.”

The young King absorbed this.

“Administrator Lorlen, do you believe he will comply if he is commanded to leave the Allied Lands?”

Lorlen blinked in surprise. “Do you mean… exile?”

“Yes.”

The Higher Magicians looked at each other thoughtfully.

“The nearest non-allied land is Sachaka,” Balkan pointed out. “If his story is true…”

Lorlen frowned, then slipped his hands in his pockets. His fingers touched the ring.

—
Akkarin
?

—Yes?

—
Will you accept exile?

—
Instead of fighting my way out of here?
Lorlen caught a faint amusement.
I was hoping for better.

Silence followed.

—
Akkarin ? You know where they’ll send you.

—Yes.

—
Should I try to convince them to take you somewhere else?

—
No. They would have to take me far from Kyralia. The Guild needs the magicians it would send as my escort to remain here and defend Kyralia if the Ichani invade.

He fell silent again. Lorlen glanced at the other magicians. They were watching him expectantly.

—
Akkarin? The King is waiting for an answer.

—
Very well. See if you can talk them into keeping Sonea here.

—
I’ll see what I can do.

“I guess we can only try to convince him to leave peacefully,” Lorlen said. “The alternative, if you wish to avoid a confrontation, is to allow him to stay here as a prisoner.”

The King nodded. “To imprison a man you cannot control is foolish, and he must be seen to be punished, as Lady Vinara said. This threat from Sachaka must be investigated and confirmed, however. If he is proven right, and trustworthy, we may find and consult with him.”

Balkan frowned. “I would like to question Akkarin further.”

“You can do so on the way to the border.” The King’s eyes were hard.

The others exchanged worried glances, but none protested.

“May I speak, Your Majesty?”

All turned to see Rothen standing at the base of the stairs.

“You may,” the King replied.

“Thank you.” Rothen bowed his head for a moment, then looked at each of the Higher Magicians.

“I ask that you consider Sonea’s youth and impressionability when you judge her. She had been his prisoner for some time. I do not know how he persuaded her to join him. She is stubborn and good-hearted, but when I persuaded her to join the Guild, I encouraged her to question her distrust of magicians. Now, perhaps, that has led her to discard her distrust of Akkarin.” He smiled faintly. “I think once she has realized she has been deceived she will punish herself better than any of us could.”

Lorlen looked up at the King. He was nodding.

“I will consider your words, Lord… ?”

“Rothen.”

“Thank you, Lord Rothen.”

Rothen dropped to one knee, then rose and moved away. The ruler watched him go, then drummed his fingers on the back of the High Lord’s chair.

“How do you think the High Lord’s novice will react when her guardian is exiled?”

Sonea stood in utter silence.

The Warriors surrounding her and Akkarin had enclosed them in a barrier that blocked all noise in the hall. She had watched as magicians had gathered to debate. After a long break, the Higher Magicians had returned to their seats and began an intense discussion.

Akkarin shifted a step closer, but didn’t look at her.

“You chose an inopportune time for disobedience, Sonea.”

She winced at the anger in his voice. “Did you really think I’d let them execute you?”

There was a long pause before he replied.

“I need you to remain here and continue the fight.”

“How can I do that with the Guild watching my every move?”

“Little opportunity is better than none. If nothing else, they would have you to call on as a last resort.”

“If they had me, they would never have considered allowing you to live,” she retorted. “I won’t let them use me as an excuse to kill you.”

He began to turn toward her, then stopped as sound abruptly returned. Lorlen stood up and struck a gong.

“It is time to judge whether Akkarin of family Delvon, of House Velan, High Lord of the Magicians’ Guild, and Sonea, his novice, are guilty of the crimes of which they have been accused.”

He held out a hand. A globe light appeared above it, then floated up to the ceiling. The other Higher Magicians followed suit, then hundreds more globe lights floated up from the rest of the magicians, and the Guildhall was filled with brightness.

“Do you judge that Akkarin of family Delvon, of House Velan, is undoubtedly guilty of the murder of Lord Jolen, his family and servants?”

Several of the globes slowly turned red, but most remained white. The Higher Magicians stared up for a long time, and Sonea realized they were counting the globes. When they looked down again at Lorlen each shook their head once.

“The majority choose the negative,” Lorlen declared. “Do you judge that Akkarin of family Delvon, of House Velan, is guilty of seeking knowledge of, learning, practicing and, in addition to earlier accusations, killing with black magic?”

At once all of the globes turned red. Lorlen did not wait for the Higher Magicians to count the globes.

“The majority choose the affirmative,” Lorlen called. “Do you judge that Sonea, the High Lord’s novice, is guilty of seeking knowledge of and, in addition to this earlier accusation, learning, practicing and killing with black magic?”

The globe lights remained red. Lorlen nodded slowly.

“The majority choose the affirmative. The punishment for this crime as set down by law is execution. We, the Higher Magicians, have debated the appropriateness of this penalty in light of the reasons given for the crime, if they be true. We would prefer to delay judgment until the validity of these reasons is established, but due to the nature of the crime, feel immediate action must be taken.” He paused. “We have chosen exile as Akkarin’s punishment.’”

The hall filled with muttering as this was considered. Sonea heard a few weak protests, but no magician raised his or her voice to argue.

“Akkarin of family Delvon, of House Velan, you are no longer welcome in the Allied Lands. You will be escorted to the nearest non-allied country. Do you accept this judgment?”

Akkarin looked up at the King, then dropped to one knee.

“If the King wills it.”

The ruler’s eyebrows rose.

“I do,” he said.

“Then I will go.”

The hall was silent as Akkarin rose to his feet again.

Lorlen’s sigh of relief was audible. He turned to regard Sonea.

“Sonea. We, the Higher Magicians, have decided to offer you a second chance. You will remain here with us under these conditions: you must vow to never use black magic again, you will not be allowed to leave the Guild grounds from this day, and you will never be allowed to teach others. Do you accept this judgment?”

Sonea stared at Lorlen in disbelief. The Guild had exiled Akkarin yet forgiven her, even though they had both committed the same crime.

But it wasn’t the same. Akkarin was their leader and his crime seemed worse because he was supposed to represent the Guild’s values. She was just an impressionable young woman. The slum girl. Easily corrupted. They believed she had been led astray, and that Akkarin had embraced black magic willingly. In truth she had chosen to learn it, and
he
had been forced to.

So they would allow her to stay in the temporary safety and the comfort of the Guild, while Akkarin was sent out of the Allied Lands to the nearest non-allied country, which was… She caught her breath.

Sachaka.

Suddenly she could not breathe. They were going to send him into the hands of his enemies. They must know that if his story was true he would die.

But this way, they won’t have to risk a battle they might lose.

“Sonea,” Lorlen repeated. “Do you accept this judgment?”

“No.”

She was surprised by the anger in her voice. Lorlen stared at her in dismay, then looked at Akkarin.

“Stay.” Akkarin told her. “There is no sense in us both going.”

Not if we’re going to Sachaka,
she thought.
But perhaps, together, we might survive.
She could help him strengthen himself. Alone, he would only grow weaker. She clung to this small hope and turned to face him.

“I made Takan a promise to take care of you. I intend to keep it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sonea—”

“Don’t tell me I’ll get in the way,” she said under her breath, conscious of the many witnesses. “That didn’t stop me before, and it won’t now. I know where they’re sending you. I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not.” Turning to the front, she raised her voice so all could hear.

“If you send High Lord Akkarin into exile, you must send me too. Then, when you come to your senses, he might still be alive and able to help you.”

The hall was silent. Lorlen stared at her, then looked up at the Higher Magicians. Sonea could see defeat and frustration in their faces.

“No, Sonea! Stay here.”

Sonea felt her stomach turn over at the voice. She forced herself to look across the room at Rothen.

“I’m sorry, Rothen,” she said, “but I will not stay.”

Lorlen took a deep breath. “Sonea, I can give you only one more chance. Do you accept this judgment?”

“No.”

“Then let it be known throughout the Allied Lands that Akkarin of family Delvon, House Velan, formerly High Lord of the Magicians’ Guild, and Sonea, formerly the High Lord’s novice, have been exiled for the crimes of learning, practicing and killing with black magic.”

He turned to Lord Balkan and said something in a voice too quiet to hear. Then he descended from his seat, strode into the circle of Warriors and stopped a step away from Akkarin. Reaching out, he grasped the black robe in both hands. Sonea heard the material rip.

“I cast you out, Akkarin. Do not enter my lands again.”

Akkarin stared at Lorlen, but did not speak. The Administrator turned away and approached Sonea. He met her eyes for a moment, then looked down, took hold of her sleeve and ripped it.

“I cast you out, Sonea. Do not enter my lands again.”

Turning on his heel, he strode away. Sonea looked down at the rip in her sleeve. It was small, only a finger-length long. A small gesture, but so final.

The Higher Magicians rose to their feet and began to descend from the tiers of seats. Sonea’s heart sank as Lord Balkan stepped into the circle and approached Akkarin. As he tore the black robes and spoke the ritual words, the rest of the Higher Magicians formed a line behind him, and she realized they were waiting their turn.

As Balkan approached she forced herself to watch as the Warrior tore her robe and spoke the ritual words. It took all her determination, but she managed to meet his gaze, and then those of each of the magicians who followed.

When the Higher Magicians had all performed the ritual, Sonea sighed with relief. The rest of the Guild rose from their seats. Instead of walking out of the Guildhall doors, they began to approach Akkarin one by one.

It looked as if she would have to endure this ceremony of rejection many, many more times.

The realization unsettled her. It took all her will to face them. She kept still as magicians who had taught her stopped to tear her robes, their expressions disapproving or disappointed. Lady Tya’s ritual words were barely audible, and she quickly hurried away. Lord Yikmo gazed at her searchingly, then shook his head sadly. At last there were only a few magicians left. She looked up as they entered the circle, and felt her stomach twist.

Rothen and Dannyl.

Her former guardian approached Akkarin slowly. He stared at Akkarin, his eyes burning with anger, then Akkarin’s lips moved. She could not quite hear what he said, but the fire in Rothen’s eyes died. Rothen murmured a reply and Akkarin nodded once. Frowning, Rothen reached forward to tear Akkarin’s robe. He spoke the ritual words, then kept his eyes on the floor as he took the few short steps to her.

She felt her throat constrict. Rothen’s face looked haggard and deeply lined. He looked up at her and his pale blue eyes shimmered as tears gathered in them.

“Why,
Sonea?” he whispered hoarsely.

She felt moisture spring into her eyes. She closed them tightly and swallowed hard.