The High Lord (36 page)

Rock is a better description,
she amended.

She turned in her saddle and looked back up at the Fort. Lights beyond some of the windows made silhouettes of the watching occupants.

The sound of hoofbeats faded. Her horse stopped.

“Dismount.”

As Akkarin swung out of the saddle, Sonea realized that Balkan’s order had been solely for her and Akkarin. She slid to the ground, wincing at the stiffness in her legs. Lord Osen leaned down to take the reins and led the horses away.

With the horses and Osen gone, only she and Akkarin remained standing within the ring of Warriors. A globe of light flared above Balkan’s head, flooding the area with brightness.

“Remember the faces of these two magicians,” Balkan called. “They are Akkarin, former High Lord of the Magicians’ Guild, and Sonea, former novice of the High Lord. They have been cast out of the Guild and exiled from the Allied Lands for the crime of practicing black magic.”

A chill entered Sonea’s blood. At least this was the last time she would hear those ritual words. She glanced at the darkened road beyond the lamplight.

“Wait!”

Her heart skipped. Osen stepped forward.

“Yes, Lord Osen?”

“I would speak to Sonea once more before she leaves.”

Balkan nodded slowly. “Very well.”

Sonea sighed as Osen climbed down from his horse. He approached her slowly, his expression tense.

“Sonea, this is your last chance.” He spoke quietly, perhaps so the escort would not hear. “Come back with me.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He turned to regard Akkarin. “Would you have her turn down this opportunity?”

Akkarin’s eyebrows rose. “No, but she seems determined to discard it. I doubt I could change her mind.”

Osen frowned and turned to regard Sonea again. He opened his mouth, then thought better of it and merely shook his head. He looked at Akkarin again.

“You had better look after her,” he muttered.

Akkarin stared impassively at the magician. Osen scowled and turned on his heel. He strode back to his horse and stepped up into the saddle.

At a signal from Balkan, the escorts blocking the road into Sachaka fell back.

“Be gone from the Allied Lands,” Balkan said. His voice was neither angry nor regretful.

“Come, Sonea,” Akkarin said quietly “We have a way to go yet.”

She looked at him. His expression was distant and hard to read. As he turned away and started walking, she followed a few steps behind.

A voice murmured behind them. She listened carefully. It was Lord Osen.

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

She shivered, then set her gaze upon the darkening road before her.

As the last of the sun’s rays left the garden, Lorlen turned from the window of his office and began to pace. The route took him around the room, from chair to chair, then back to his desk. He stopped, looked down at the mass of paper, and sighed.

Why, of all places, did they have to send Akkarin to Sachaka?

He knew why. He knew, with a cold certainty, that the King hoped Akkarin would perish in Sachaka. Akkarin had broken one of the most serious Guild laws. No matter how much the King had liked the High Lord, he knew there was nothing more dangerous than a magician who would not obey laws, and was too powerful to control. If the Guild could not execute Akkarin, then they must send him to the only magicians who could: the Ichani.

Of course, the Ichani might
not
exist. If they didn’t, the Guild was about to free a magician who had learned black magic willingly. He might come back, stronger than ever. That couldn’t be helped, however.

If the Ichani did exist, it seemed foolish to send to his death the only magician who could tell them about their enemy. Akkarin wasn’t the only one, though. There was Sonea.

That was where the King had misjudged the situation badly. He had assumed the ex-slum girl, who’d been guided and manipulated by more than one magician, would be easily swayed. Lorlen smiled wryly as he remembered her angry refusal.

“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 King had been angry at her defiance.
What do you expect?
Lorlen had wanted to say.
Loyalty? From one who once lived among those you drive out of the city during the Purge each year?
Eventually the King had concluded that, if she would not accept the judgment of the Guild and her ruler, then perhaps exile was for the best.

Lorlen sighed and began pacing again. In truth, the Guild didn’t need Sonea to tell them about the Ichani so long as he had Akkarin’s ring… and Akkarin remained alive. But if Lorlen began relaying information from Akkarin to the rest of the Guild, he would eventually have to admit how he was receiving it. The ring was a tool of black magic. How would the Guild react to the news that their Administrator owned and continued to use such a thing?

I
should throw it away,
he thought. But he knew he wouldn’t. He took out the ring and considered it, then slipped it on a finger.

—
Akkarin? Are you there?

Nothing.

Lorlen had tried to contact Akkarin through the ring several times. Occasionally he thought he had detected a faint feeling of anger or fear, but had decided this was only his imagination. The silence tortured him. If it wasn’t for Osen’s mental reports on the journey, Lorlen might have worried that Akkarin was dead.

Lorlen finished his circuit of the room, then stepped behind his desk and collapsed into his chair. He removed the ring and put it back in his pocket. A moment later, there was a sharp knock on the door.

“Come in.”

“A message from the King, my lord.”

A servant entered, bowed, and placed a wooden cylinder on Lorlen’s desk. The King’s incal was imprinted on the stopper and the wax was dusted with gold powder.

“Thank you. You may go.”

The servant bowed again, then retreated from the room. Lorlen broke the seal and pulled out a rolled sheet of paper.

So the King wants to talk about Sachaka,
Lorlen mused as he read the formal script. He let the letter curl back into a roll, returned it to the cylinder and stowed it inside a box he kept for royal messages.

A meeting with the King was unexpectedly appealing. What he had longed for most was just to be able to
do
something. For too long he had been restrained and helpless to act. He stood up, then froze as he heard his name echo at the edge of his senses.

—Lorlen!

Osen. Lorlen sensed the minds of other magicians, attracted by the call, fade as they turned their attention away.

—
Yes, Osen
?

—
It is done. Sonea and Akkarin are in Sachaka.

Lorlen felt his heart sink.

—
Could you ask Fergun and the Captain if anyone in the Fort or surrounding locality has noticed anything unusual going on in Sachaka?

—I
will ask and tell you his reply tomorrow. He has requested that some magicians remain here in case Akkarin and Sonea try to return.

—
Did you explain that it would make no difference?

—
No, I didn’t want to make them more nervous than they already are.

Lorlen considered the Captain’s request.

—
I’ll leave that decision to Balkan.

—
I’ll tell him.
There was a pause. I
must go.
The image of a hall with a large open fire and magicians taking seats at a long dining table reached Lorlen’s mind. He smiled.

—
Enjoy your meal, Osen. Thank you for informing me.

—
Thank you for informing
me, another voice replied. Lorlen blinked in surprise.

—
Who was that?
Osen asked.

—I
don’t know,
Lorlen replied. He thought back over their conversation and shivered. If someone was waiting over the border, ready to ambush visitors, then they now knew Akkarin and Sonea were on their way.

Then he considered what might have been discussed by magicians in the last few days and his heart sank even further.
We’ve been fools,
Lorlen thought.
Not one of us has really considered what it might mean if Akkarin’s story is true.

—
Balkan,
he called.

—
Yes
?

—
Please tell your men that all mental communication must cease from this moment. I will inform the rest of the Guild.

As Osen and Balkan’s presence withdrew, Lorlen drew Akkarin’s ring out of his pocket. His hands shook as he slipped it over his finger.

—
Akkarin
?

But silence was his only reply.

Ninth day of the fifth month

We were forced to stop this morning when we encountered a landslip that had blocked the road. The servants have spent the day digging, but I fear we will not move on until tomorrow. I have climbed to the top of a hill. The mountains are now a dark line across the horizon. Looking ahead, I see dusty hills continuing to the north. These wastelands seem endless. Now I understand why Kyralian merchants do not often trade with Sachaka. It is an impossible journey, and Riko tells me it is easier for the Sachakans to trade with lands in the northeast. And, of course, they distrust the Guild…

A knock at the door interrupted Rothen. He sighed, lowered the book and willed the dooj open. Dannyl stepped into the room, his brow creased with a frown.

“Dannyl,” Rothen said, “would you like some sumi?”

Dannyl closed the door, walked to Rothen’s chair, and stared down at him. “You
volunteered
to go to Sachaka?”

“Ah.” Rothen closed the book and set it down on the table. “So they told you.”

“Yes.” Dannyl seemed to struggle for words. “I want to ask why, but I don’t have to. You’re going to look for Sonea, aren’t you?”

Rothen shrugged. “In a way.” He gestured to a seat. “Sit down. Even I feel uncomfortable when you’re towering over me like that.”

Dannyl sat down and stared across the table at Rothen.

“I’m surprised the Higher Magicians agreed. They must have realized finding Sonea might become more important to you than discovering if the Ichani exist.”

Rothen smiled. “Yes, they did consider that. I told them that if there was a choice between saving Sonea and completing the mission, I would choose to save Sonea. They accepted that condition because I have a better chance of persuading her to return—and because I am not the only spy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I only volunteered this morning.”

“But you must have been thinking about it before then.”

“Only since last night. After I watched you dealing with Garrel, I came to the conclusion that you don’t really need my help.” Rothen smiled. “My support, perhaps, but not my help. Sonea, however, does need my help. I’ve been unable to do anything for her for so long. Now I finally can.”

Dannyl nodded, but he did not look happy. “What if Akkarin’s story
is
true? What if you walk into a land ruled by black magicians? He said any Guild magician entering Sachaka would be killed.”

Rothen sobered. It
was
going to be a dangerous mission. He was not a little frightened by the possibility he would encounter the magicians Akkarin had described.

If the Ichani were not real, however, then Akkarin must have had a reason to invent them. Perhaps he’d done so simply to ensure the Guild allowed him to live. Perhaps it had been part of some greater deception. If that were so, he would be anxious to hide the truth. He might be the black magician who killed any Guild magician who entered Sachaka.

But surely he expected the Guild to investigate his claims. By telling them this story, he had ensured they
would
send spies into Sachaka. Rothen frowned. What if Akkarin had spun the tale so he could hunt down the magicians who entered Sachaka, kill them one by one for their strength?

“Rothen?”

Looking up, Rothen managed a wry smile. “I know it’s going to be dangerous, Dannyl. We’re not going to blunder into Sachaka wearing robes and flaunting our magical abilities. We’ll do everything we can to remain unnoticed.” He pointed to the book. “Every record of journeys into Sachaka has been copied for us to study. We’ll be questioning merchants and their servants. We’re going to be trained by a professional spy, sent by the King, who will teach us to speak and behave like commoners.”

A reluctant smile pulled at Dannyl’s mouth. “Sonea would find that amusing.”

Rothen felt a familiar pang of grief. “Yes. She would have, once.” He sighed. “Well then, tell me about your meeting with the Higher Magicians. Did they ask any awkward questions?”

Dannyl blinked at the change of subject. “A few. I don’t think they approve of Tayend, but that was no surprise.”

“No,” Rothen agreed. He considered Dannyl closely. “But you approve of him.”

“He is a good friend.” Dannyl met Rothen’s gaze. There was a hint of defiance in his expression. “Will I be expected to avoid him now?”

Rothen shrugged. “You know what the gossips will say if you don’t. But you can’t let gossips run your life, and Elyne is Elyne. Everyone knows the social rules are different there.”

Dannyl’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Yes. What may be considered prudent here would be considered rude there.”

“Now, did you want a cup of sumi?”

Dannyl smiled and nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Standing up, Rothen took a step toward the cabinet where the sumi cups and leaves were kept, then froze.

—
All magicians, listen to me!

Rothen blinked in surprise at Lorlen’s mental voice.

—
All mental communication must cease from now on, unless in an emergency. If you are unable to avoid conversing in this way, be mindful of what you reveal. If you hear another magician communicating mentally, please inform him or her of this restriction.

“Well,” Dannyl said after a moment. “I hate to say it, considering what you’ve set out to do, but every day I grow more worried.”