The High Lord (52 page)

“Come in for a cup of sumi?” he asked.

Dannyl nodded. “If Ezrille doesn’t mind.”

Yaldin chuckled. “She likes to tell people I’m in charge, but you and I—and Rothen—know better.”

He opened the door and ushered Dannyl into his guestroom. Ezrille was sitting in one of the chairs, dressed in a gown of shimmering blue material.

“That was a quick Meet,” she said, frowning.

“Yes,” Dannyl replied. “You are looking beautiful today, Ezrille.”

She smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling. “You should come home more often, Dannyl.” Then she shook her head. “With manners like yours, I’m amazed you still haven’t found yourself a wife. Sumi?”

“Yes, please.”

She rose and busied herself with cups and water. Dannyl and Yaldin sat down. The old magician’s brow furrowed.

“I can’t believe they’ve decided to allow black magic.”

Dannyl nodded. “Lorlen said that
some
of Akkarin’s claims have proven to be true.”

“The worst ones.”

“Yes, but I wonder if that means some of his claims were proven to be
untrue.”

“Which ones?”

“Obviously not the ones about Sachakan black magicians invading Kyralia,” Ezrille said as she laid a tray on the table before the chairs. “What will Rothen do? He doesn’t need to go to Sachaka now.”

“He’ll probably come back.” Dannyl took the cup she offered and sipped at the steaming brew.

“Unless he decides to go on in the hope of finding Sonea.”

Dannyl frowned.
Rothen might just do that…

They looked up at a knock on the door. Yaldin waved a hand and the door opened. A messenger bowed, glanced around the room, then stepped inside when he saw Dannyl.

“Ambassador. A man is here to see you. All the places for receiving visitors are in use, so I brought him to your rooms. Your servant was present and admitted him.”

A visitor? Dannyl put down his cup and rose. “Thank you,” he said to the messenger. The man bowed and retreated from the room.

Dannyl smiled apologetically at Yaldin and Ezrille. “Thanks for the sumi. I had better find out who my visitor is.”

“Of course,” Ezrille replied. “You must come back later and tell us about him.”

The corridor was a little quieter now that most magicians had returned to their rooms or duties after the Meet. Dannyl strode to his door and opened it. A young man with blond hair rose from one of his guestroom chairs and bowed. For a moment Dannyl didn’t recognize him, as he was dressed in the sober fashion preferred by Kyralians.

Then he hastily stepped inside and let the door close.

“Greetings, Ambassador Dannyl.” Tayend grinned. “Did you miss me?”

At first Imardin appeared as a shadow against the yellow-green of the fields. Then, as they drew nearer, the city sprawled out on either side of the road like outstretched arms welcoming them back. Now, hours later, a thousand lamps burned before them, lighting their way through the rain and the darkness to the Northern Gates.

When they were close enough to hear the rain beating on the glass of the first lamp, Dorrien drew his horse to a halt and looked back at Akkarin and Sonea. His eyes strayed to the other people using the road. They must make their farewells quick, and be careful what they said. People would think it strange, if he spoke to his “commoner” companions with too much familiarity.

“Good luck,” he said. “Be careful.”

“You be in more rub than us, my Lord,” Sonea replied, speaking with the typical slum dweller drawl. “Thanks for your help. Don’t let those foreign magicians get you.”

“You either,” he replied, smiling at her accent. He nodded at Akkarin, then turned away and urged his horse forward.

Sonea’s stomach clenched with anxiety as she watched him ride away toward the gates. When he had disappeared, she glanced at Akkarin. He was a tall shadow, his face hidden in the hood of his cloak.

“Lead on,” he said.

She directed her horse off the main road and into a narrow street. Dwells eyed them and their bedraggled horses.
Don’t try anything,
she thought at them.
We might look like simple country people oblivious to the dangers of the city, but we aren’t. And we can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves.

After winding their way through the slums for half an hour, they reached the horse sellers at the edge of the Market. They stopped in front of a sign with a painting of a horseshoe on it. A wiry-looking man limped through the rain toward them.

“Greetings,” he said in a gruff voice. “You looking to sell your horses?”

“Maybe,” Sonea replied. “Depends on the price.”

“Let me have an eye, then.” He beckoned. “Come on in out of the rain.”

They followed the man into a large stable. Stalls had been built on either side, some occupied. They dismounted and watched as the man examined their horses.

“What’s this one’s name, then?”

She paused. They had changed horses three times, and she had given up remembering their names.

“Ceryni,” she said. “After a friend of mine.”

The man straightened and turned to stare at her.

“Ceryni?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

Then from one of the stalls came the sound of laughter.

“You named your horse after
me?”

A stable door opened and a short man in a gray coat strode out, followed by Takan and a large, muscular man. Sonea looked closer at the speaker, then gasped as she recognized him.

“Cery!”

He grinned. “Hai! Welcome back.” Then he turned to the horse seller and the grin disappeared. “You didn’t see this.”

“N-no,” the man agreed. His face was white.

“Take the horses and leave,” Cery ordered.

The man grabbed the reins of the horses, and Sonea watched, bemused, as he hurried away. Akkarin had told her that Takan was hiding with a Thief. If Cery was also working for this Thief, then was the Thief Faren, or had Cery started working for another? In any case, it seemed he had gained some influence in the last few years, if the horse seller’s reaction was any indication. Sonea turned to see Takan drop to his knees before Akkarin.

“Master.”

Takan’s voice was laden with emotion. Akkarin pushed back his hood and sighed.

“Get up, Takan,” he said quietly. Though his voice was all command and tolerance, Sonea recognized signs of embarrassment in his face. She smothered a smile.

The servant climbed to his feet. “It is good to see you again, master, though I fear you have returned to a dangerous and impossible situation.”

“Nevertheless, we must do what we can,” Akkarin replied. He turned to Cery. “Has Takan explained what we intend to do?”

Cery nodded. “There’ll be a meeting of the Thieves tomorrow. Seems most of them have heard something’s up, even if it’s just that the Houses are all packing up and leaving the city. You need to tell me how much you want them to know.”

“Everything,” Akkarin replied, “if that will not damage your standing among them.”

Cery shrugged. “It won’t, in the long term—and I get the feeling we’ll have no city left to deal in if these Sachakan magicians win. Now, before we get to the grit of it, I’ll take you somewhere better than a stable. I’m sure you’d like a bit of food, too.”

As he strode back to the stall he had emerged from, Sonea watched him closely. There was a sureness about the way he carried himself that she hadn’t seen before. He had expressed none of the fear or awe of Akkarin that she had expected. They spoke as if they had dealt with each other before.

No doubt he was one of the men helping Akkarin find the spies. But why didn’t Akkarin tell me Cery was involved?

Cery unlocked a hatch at the back of the stall and held it open.

“Lead the way, Gol.”

The large, silent man bent double and stepped through, then began to descend a ladder. Takan followed, then Akkarin. Sonea paused to look at Cery. He grinned.

“Go on. We’ll catch up when we get to my place.”

She climbed down the ladder into a large passage. Gol held a lamp. Familiar smells brought back old memories of the Thieves’ Road. As Cery joined them, he nodded to Gol, and they set off through the passage.

They travelled for several minutes, then passed through a large metal door into a luxuriously furnished guestroom. A low table at the center was covered with several plates of food, glasses, and bottles of wine.

Sonea collapsed into a chair and helped herself to a few morsels of food. Akkarin sat down beside her and picked up one of the bottles. His eyebrows rose. “You live better than magicians do, Ceryni.”

“Oh, I don’t live here,” Cery said, taking another of the seats. ‘This is one of my guest places. Takan’s been staying here.”

“The Thief has been generous,” Takan said quietly, nodding at Cery.

The Thief?
Sonea choked, swallowed, then stared at Cery. Catching her look, he grinned. “Only just clicked, did it?”

“But…” She shook her head. “How is that possible?”

He spread his hands. “Hard work, clever moves, good connections… and a little help from your High Lord.”

“So you’re the Thief who helped Akkarin find the spies?”

“That’s right. I started after he helped you and me with Fergun,” Cery explained. “He wanted someone to find the murderers for him. Someone with the right connections and influence.”

“I see.”
So Akkarin has known about this since my guardianship Hearing.
She turned to glare at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Akkarin’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Initially, I couldn’t. You would have believed I had forced or tricked Cery into helping me.”

“You could have told me after I had learned the truth about the Ichani.”

He shook his head. “I am always wary of revealing more than I need to. If you were captured by the Ichani, they might discover Cery’s connection to me from your mind. As it turns out, I do need the association to remain a secret.” He turned to Cery. “It is important that our presence in Imardin does not become common knowledge. If the Ichani read it from someone’s mind, our only chance of winning the battle will be lost. The fewer who know we are here, the better.”

Cery nodded. “Only Gol and I know you are here. The other Thieves think we’re just going to talk about what’s stirring up the city.” He smiled. “They’ll be surprised to see you.”

“Do you think they will agree to keep our presence a secret?”

Cery shrugged. “Once they know what’s going on and see that they’ll lose everything they’ve got if the Sachakans win, they’ll mind you like their own children.”

“You told Takan you had been considering ways of killing magicians,” Akkarin said. “What were you—”

—
Balkan
?

Sonea straightened in her seat. The mental voice belonged to—

—
Yikmo?
Balkan replied.

—
The Sachakans are nearing Calia.

—I
will advise you shortly.

“What is it, master?” Takan asked.

“A communication,” Akkarin replied. “Lord Yikmo reported that the Ichani are approaching Calia. He must be there.”

Sonea felt a shiver run down her spine. “Surely the Guild hasn’t gone out to meet them?” She looked at Cery. “You’d have heard if they had left the city.”

Cery shook his head. “Nothing like that has been reported.”

Akkarin frowned. “I wish Lorlen would use the ring.”

“About twenty magicians left the city four days ago,” Gol interjected. “In the morning.”

—
Yikmo
?

—
Balkan
.

—
Take your time.

—We will.

Sonea frowned at Akkarin. “What does that mean?”

His expression darkened. “No doubt it’s a prearranged code for an instruction. They can’t tell Yikmo and his men what to do without giving away their intentions to the Ichani.”

“But what does it mean?”

He drummed the tips of his fingers together. “Twenty magicians. Four days ago. They left before the Ichani attacked the Fort. What purpose could they have had?”

“A guard for the South Pass?” Sonea suggested. “Balkan left our escort at the Fort. Perhaps he thought the South Pass needed guarding, too.”

Akkarin shook his head. “We would have passed them on the road. They must have been north of Calia, where the road forks. Whatever the reason, they could not have travelled so far before the attack that they could have returned to Imardin again. They have remained in Calia for a reason.”

‘To report the Ichani’s position?” Cery suggested.

“All twenty of them?” Akkarin’s frown deepened. “I hope the Guild hasn’t planned something foolish.”

“That would be a surprise,” Takan remarked dryly.

Cery looked down. “We better eat this, before it goes cold. Wine anyone?”

Sonea opened her mouth to reply, but froze as an image flashed into her mind. Three carts trundled down a village main road. Several men and women rode in each cart, some of them splendidly dressed.

The horses pulling the first cart halted, and their driver slowly turned to face the viewer. Sonea recognized Kariko with a shiver. He handed the reins to a man sitting beside him, then jumped to the ground.

“Come out, come out, Guild magician,” he called.

A strike flashed from the window of a house on the other side of the street, followed by several more from both sides. They struck an invisible shield around each cart.

“An ambush,” Sonea heard Akkarin mutter.

Kariko turned full circle, surveying the houses and street, then looked at his allies.

“Who wants to hunt?”

Four of the Ichani stepped down from the carts. They separated and started toward the houses on either side. Two brought yeel with them, the animals barking with excitement.

Then the view shifted. She caught a glimpse of a window frame, a room, and a Guild magician.

“Rothen!” she gasped. The images stopped, and she stared at Akkarin in horror. “Rothen is with them!”

It has been far too many years since I had a Warrior lesson or a bout in the Arena,
Rothen thought as he hurried across the yard to the back door of the house.