The High Lord (46 page)

“What is it?”

The Sachakan let out a short breath. “Akkarin has spoken to me. He has asked me to explain some things to you.”

Cery blinked in surprise, then gestured to the chairs.

“Let’s sit, then. I’ve brought some food and wine.”

Takan moved to a guestroom chair and perched himself on the edge of the seat. Cery sat down opposite him, while Gol disappeared into the kitchen to find plates and glasses.

“You know that these murderers Akkarin employed you to find were Sachakan magicians,” Takan began. “And you know that Akkarin and Sonea were exiled for using black magic.”

Cery nodded.

‘The murderers were former slaves,” Takan explained, “sent by their masters to spy on Kyralia and the Guild—and kill Akkarin if they had the chance. Their masters are powerful magicians known as the Ichani. They use black magic to draw magical strength from their slaves—or their victims. The people in my country call this higher magic, and have no law against its use.”

“This magic makes them stronger?” Cery asked. Though he knew all this from Savara, he must pretend it was all new.

“Yes. Akkarin learned black magic in my country. I returned to Kyralia with him, and he has been taking strength from me so he could fight the spies.”

“You were a slave?”

Takan nodded.

“You say these murderers—spies—were once slaves. Yet they used black magic, too.”

“They were taught the secret of higher magic so that they might survive long enough to gather information about Kyralia’s defenses.”

Cery frowned. “If they were free, why did they continue to do what their masters wanted?”

Takan looked down at the floor. “Servitude is a hard habit to break, especially when you are born to it,” he said quietly. “And the spies feared the Guild as much as they feared the Ichani. They saw only two choices: to hide in the enemy’s land, or return to Sachaka. Until Akkarin and Sonea were so publicly exiled, most Sachakans believed the Guild still used higher magic. All previous spies had been killed. Sachaka seemed a safer place. The dangers there are familiar. But they knew the Ichani would kill them if they returned without completing their mission.”

Gol returned carrying wine, glasses, and a plate laden with meat-filled savory buns. The big man offered Takan a glass of wine, but the servant shook his head.

“The Ichani know the Guild do not use higher magic now,” Takan continued. “They know they are stronger. Their leader, a man named Kariko, has been trying to unite them for years. Now he has succeeded. Akkarin contacted me this morning, and told me to tell you this: they plan to enter Kyralia in the next few days. You must warn the Guild.”

“And they’ll believe me?” Cery asked dubiously.

“The message must be anonymous, but its recipient will know from the content who it is from. Akkarin has told me what it should contain.”

Cery nodded, then sat back in his chair and took a sip of the wine.

“How much does the Guild know?”

“All but this latest news. They do not believe any of it, but Akkarin hopes they will prepare in case it proves true.” Takan hesitated. “You do not seem alarmed to learn that your country is about to face a war.”

Cery shrugged. “Oh, I am. But I am not surprised. I had a feeling something big was about to happen.”

“You are not concerned?”

“Why? It is magicians’ business.”

Takan’s eyes widened. “I wish, for your sake, that it was so. But when these Ichani have removed the Guild and the King, they will not leave ordinary people to continue their lives as if nothing happened. Those they do not enslave, they will kill.”

“They have to find us first.”

“They will collapse all your tunnels and tear down your houses. Your secret world will not survive.”

Cery smiled as he thought of Savara’s suggestions for killing magicians.

“They won’t find it as easy as they think,” he said darkly. “Not if I have any say in it.”

Dannyl stepped out of the University and considered the busy courtyard. Midbreak had just begun, and the grounds were full of novices enjoying the summer warmth. He decided to follow their example and take a stroll through the gardens.

As he entered the shady walkways, he considered his interview with Lord Sarrin. Now that the fate of the rebels had been decided, and Rothen had left for Sachaka, Dannyl had very little to do, so he had volunteered to help in the construction of the new Lookout. The Head of Alchemists had been surprised by Dannyl’s proposal, as if he had forgotten all about the project.

“The Lookout. Yes. Of course,” Sarrin had said distractedly. “It’ll keep us occupied, unless… but then it won’t matter. Yes,” he repeated, in a firmer tone. “You may ask Lord Davin how you may assist.”

On the way out of the University, Dannyl had glimpsed Lord Balkan leaving the Administrator’s office. The Warrior had looked worried. That was to be expected, but his manner suggested he had something new on his mind.

I
wish I knew what was going on,
Dannyl thought. He looked around, noting the tense expressions of a group of novices gathered together nearby.
It looks like I’m not the only one.

He turned a corner and noted a lone novice sitting on a garden seat. The boy was older, probably a fifth year, and very thin and sickly. He looked strangely familiar.

Dannyl stopped as he realized this was no boy. It was Farand. He stepped off the path and approached the garden seat.

“Farand.”

The young man looked up, then smiled self-consciously.

“Ambassador.”

Dannyl sat down. “I see they’ve got you a set of robes. Have you started training yet?”

Farand nodded. “Private lessons for now. I’m hoping they’re going to spare me the humiliation of joining the younger novices.”

Dannyl chuckled. “And miss all the fooling around?”

“From what I’ve heard, you didn’t have an easy time as a novice.”

“No.” Dannyl sobered. “Not in the first few years. But don’t let my experiences put you off. I’ve heard some magicians say their years in the University were their most enjoyable.”

The young man frowned. “I was hoping it would all be easier from here, but I’m beginning to wonder. I’ve heard it said that the Guild is facing a war. We’re going to either fight Akkarin or Sachakan magicians. Either way, nobody is sure if we’ll win.”

Dannyl nodded. “You may have joined the Guild at the worst possible time, Farand. But if you hadn’t, you would not have escaped the strife for long. If Kyralia falls to either enemy, Elyne would fall soon after.”

“Better that I’m here, then. I’d rather be a help, than gain a few safe months at home.” Farand paused, then sighed. “I have only one regret, however.”

“Dem Marane.”

“Yes.”

“It is my one regret, too,” Dannyl admitted. “I had hoped the Guild would be more forgiving.”

“I think, perhaps, this strife with your High Lord influenced the decision. The Guild ought to have noticed that its leader had learned black magic. It hadn’t, so it didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. And it should have executed Akkarin, but it couldn’t. So it dealt out the full punishment to the next man to break that law, to show itself and the world that it would not condone such crimes.” Farand paused. “I’m not saying that each magician was aware of this, just that the situation may have influenced their thinking.”

Dannyl glanced at Farand, surprised at the young man’s perceptiveness. “So we have Akkarin to blame.”

Farand shook his head. “I’m done with blaming people. I am here, where I was supposed to be all along. I’m expected to put all political matters behind me, and that is what I will do.” He hesitated. “Though I am not sure I could have if my sister hadn’t been pardoned.”

Dannyl nodded. “Did you see her before she left?”

“Yes.”

“How is she?”

“She grieves, but the children will give her something to hold to. I will miss them all.” He looked up as the gong signalling the end of midbreak rang out. “Time to go. Thank you for stopping to talk to me, Ambassador. Will you be returning to Elyne soon?”

“Not for a while. Administrator Lorlen wants as many magicians to remain here as possible, until he knows more about Sachaka.”

“Then I hope I have an opportunity to talk to you again, Ambassador.” Farand bowed, then strode away.

Dannyl watched the young man leave. Farand had been through so much, and faced the prospect of death three times—through loss of control, poisoning, and possible execution. Somehow he managed to view it all without resentment.

It was humbling. And his thoughts on the reason for Dem Marane’s execution were interesting.

He might make a good Ambassador one day,
Dannyl mused.
If he gets the chance.

But for now, the Guild could only go on as it always had. Dannyl sighed, stood up and went in search of Lord Davin.

Something brushed against Sonea’s lips. She blinked her eyes open and stared at the face hovering above hers. Akkarin.

He smiled and kissed her again. “Wake up,” he murmured, then he straightened, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She looked around. An eerie half-light had turned everything to gray. The sky was covered in cloud, but she guessed it was too early for the sun to have dropped below the horizon yet.

“We should find the road now, before the sun sets,” Akkarin said. “It will be very dark until the moon rises, and we can’t afford to stop.”

Sonea yawned and looked up at the gap between the two peaks. They had left the waterfall after the Ichani’s visit that morning, and continued up the ravine as far as they dared. A small space between some boulders and the rock wall had provided enough shelter to hide them as they slept. While it was not as concealed as the ledge behind the waterfall, there was no reason for the Ichani or his slaves to visit it.

Now, as the ravine narrowed and the light faded, the way became steadily more difficult. The small river filled most of the ravine, and the banks were strewn with huge rocks. After an hour or so, Akkarin stopped and pointed up at the ravine wall. In the fading light, Sonea could only see that a steep rock slope continued up from just beyond the top. Then Sonea blinked in surprise as she made out the stone steps hewn into the wall.

“The road runs alongside the ravine from here,” Akkarin murmured.

He started toward the stairs. They reached the base, then began to climb. When they finally reached the top, the darkness was like a thick smoke all around, and Akkarin a warm shadow within it.

“Be as silent as you can,” he murmured into her ear. “Put one hand to the rock wall. If you want to speak, take hold of my hand so we can communicate mind to mind without the Ichani hearing us.”

A persistent wind tugged at them now that they were out of the shelter of the ravine. Akkarin walked in front, setting a steady pace. She let her right hand brush the rockwall, and tried to keep her footsteps light. The occasional stone clattered across the ground as she or Akkarin disturbed it, but the sound was blown away by the wind.

After a long stretch of walking, Sonea found she could make out another wall several hundred paces to their left. She wondered how she could see it, then looked up. The peaks above were glowing faintly, bathed in moonlight filtering through the clouds.

The ravine was gone and the road continued along the floor of a narrow valley. Sonea moved to Akkarin’s side, and they strode on. As the hours passed, the left-hand wall drew closer, then fell back out of sight again. It returned, and the right-hand wall withdrew. The moon rose higher, then dipped down toward the peaks.

Much later the road started to twist and turn. It began to follow the curve of a rocky slope. The higher they climbed, the steeper the slope became, and soon they were walking with a cliff wall on one side and a precipice on the other. Still they strode onward.

Then she heard a faint noise ahead and Akkarin stopped. The sound came again.

A sneeze.

They crept forward to the next turn in the road. Akkarin reached out and squeezed her hand.

—
That must be Riko,
Akkarin sent.

In the faint moonlight, Sonea made out the dark shape of a man sitting on a rock beside the road. She could hear him shivering. As he rubbed his arms, something glinted on his finger. A blood ring, she guessed.

—
Parika probably took his outer clothing from him to ensure he stayed awake,
Akkarin added.

—
This makes things difficult,
Sonea replied.
How are we going to get past the slave as well as his master? Do we trick both of them?

—
Yes and no. The slave can be our bait. Are you ready?

—Yes.

It was not easy forcing herself to step past the turn in the road, knowing that the man would see them. Riko was too wrapped up in his misery to see them at first. Then he looked up, leapt to his feet and fled.

Akkarin stopped, cursed loudly, then propelled Sonea backward.

“A slave!” he said, loud enough for Riko to hear. “There must be someone in the Pass. Come on.”

They ran back down the road. Akkarin slowed and stared up at the rock walls on either side. He pulled Sonea to a halt. She felt the ground shift, then they were rising up in the air.

The cliff face sped past, then slowed and they moved into a shadow. Sonea felt her feet touch solid rock. The ledge Akkarin had set them upon was barely wide enough for her boots. She leaned back against the wall, her heart hammering.

A long silence followed in which the only sound was their breathing. Then a figure appeared below, walking cautiously around the turn in the road. It stopped. Akkarin’s hand tightened around hers.

—
He needs a little encouragement,
Akkarin observed.

From the distance came the sound of a rock skittering against the road. The figure took a step forward, then a light blazed into existence, flooding the area. Sonea caught her breath. The man was dressed in a fine coat and his hands glittered with jewels and precious metals.

—
Great,
she replied.
Now he has only to look up and he’ll see us.