“I’m a bit… new at this,” Lorkin said, his expression apologetic as Dannyl sat beside him. “It may take a while.” Dannyl shrugged. “Don’t hurry it. I have plenty to think about. Like a way to get you out of this mess.”
“Let’s hope we have time enough for both tasks.” Lorkin called one of the slaves over. The man threw himself to the floor. Lorkin instructed the slave to kneel before him, then placed his hands on either side of the man’s head and closed his eyes.
Dannyl examined the rest of the waiting slaves. Aside from a few eyebrows rising in surprise, they showed no expression that might indicate which were the king’s spies. He looked across at Tayend, sitting on the other side of Lorkin. The Elyne met Dannyl’s eyes and nodded, perhaps indicating that he was keeping an eye on the slaves, too.
The Traitor woman, Savi, had assured him other Traitor spies would be among the slaves and would help should a fake slave react to imminent discovery by attacking them. It would be better if they were not forced to reveal their identities, however. As for the failed abductor, he had been locked in a stone-walled storeroom under the kitchen, watched over by Savi and Merria.
So. Time to get thinking, Dannyl told himself. If the king did arrange this, then he will know his plan has failed when his abductor doesn’t turn up with Lorkin. He may already know it’s failed, if the man was supposed to deliver Lorkin by now. So what will he do?
He can’t do anything unless we reveal something happened, unless he had another spy in place ready to slip away and call for “help”. So what if he did? If we claim Lorkin read the abductor’s mind and found out the truth, the king will insist on taking the man away to check. The man will suffer some kind of accident so when Amakira claims the man was tricked into thinking he worked for the king, nobody will be able to prove otherwise. He’ll then use the attempted abduction as an excuse to take Lorkin away.
If we pretend nothing happened, the king will know we’re lying. The abductor can prove otherwise. Dannyl did not want to kill the man. Not just because he’d rather not have to murder anybody, but if evidence was found that a Kyralian had killed a Sachakan — especially a free Sachakan — it would weaken the already shaky peace between their countries. And I’d end up in the palace prison for having destroyed the king’s property.
What else could he do with the man? Smuggle him away? With the House being watched so closely that even a Traitor didn’t think she could sneak out, he doubted they’d succeed. If we kill him we’ll have to destroy the body completely or make sure someone else is blamed. I’m not sure how to do the former, but it has to be less risky than the latter. He shook his head. I can’t believe I’m contemplating this.
A faint hammering noise brought his attention back to his surroundings. Lorkin had sent the first slave away to the other side of the room. He looked at Dannyl.
“I think someone’s knocking on the front door.”
With all slaves in the Master’s Room, there was nobody outside to greet anyone. “Well, that didn’t take long.” Dannyl muttered.
“It’s not too late for social visits,” Tayend pointed out. “According to Sachakan customs.”
Dannyl sighed and stood up. “I’ll go see who it is.”
Lorkin didn’t look reassured. “Should I… clear the room?”
“Yes, but…” Where to put the slaves?
“Take them to my rooms,” Tayend offered. “You can continue the mind-reading there.”
Dannyl looked at the lone slave who had been read. “Is he trustworthy?”
Lorkin shrugged. “He’s not a spy, if that’s what you mean.”
“Good enough,” Dannyl beckoned to the man, who hurried forward and threw himself on the floor. “Wait until everyone but me has left the room, then go bring our visitor here,” Dannyl ordered.
Within a surprisingly short time, Dannyl found himself alone in the Master’s Room. He drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly and braced himself for a troupe of Sachakan magicians to emerge from the corridor. Only one set of footsteps reached his ears, though, then a lone man appeared and hesitated at the threshold of the room.
“Achati!” The name leapt out of Dannyl’s mouth. “Ashaki Achati,” he quickly added, as proper formality dictated.
Achati’s forehead was deeply wrinkled. He searched Dannyl’s face as he hurried forward. He looks anxious, Dannyl thought. He’s actually wringing his hands.
“Ambassador. Dannyl.” Achati paused two steps away, once again gazing at Dannyl searchingly. “I must warn you of a plot. I expect that you won’t believe me, but I had to at least try to warn you. The king has a spy among your slaves. Probably a man, since we have few woman magicians and they aren’t trusted. He will try, some time in the next few days, to abduct Lorkin. You need to keep a watch and limit the slaves’ access to Lorkin. And perhaps, to weed out the spy, you could use those interrogation skills you put to use when we were looking for Lorkin.”
Dannyl stared at Achati in amusement and suspicion. What is he up to? Why warn us when it’s already happened? Does he mean to trick us into trusting him? Has the king sent him to check if his abductor has acted yet? Hmm. I guess I’ll have to play along and see where this leads.
“When we thwart this abduction, what should we do then?” he asked. “Kill the spy?”
Achati shook his head. “No, you would be destroying the king’s property.”
“Only if the spy is a slave, and the king admits he owns the man.”
“Oh, he won’t admit to anything. He’ll claim to have no knowledge of the plot, and say the man was bribed by the Traitors. When the man is revealed to be a magician, not a slave, you’ll be charged with murder.”
“Despite the fact that I didn’t know this?” Dannyl shook his head. “So he’s setting me up, then?”
Achati shook his head. “Not specifically, but if you were foolish enough to kill the man, it would give him the perfect excuse to send you back to Kyralia.”
“Then what is the king’s aim? Ah. It’s to manufacture a good reason to claim Lorkin isn’t safe here and take him away.”
Achati’s mouth twisted into a grim but approving smile. “I knew you’d see the danger.”
“So what do we do? We won’t be able to pretend nothing happened. The spy will inform the king of his failure. He’ll try again, or the king will send another spy to abduct Lorkin. There may already be others here already, in case the first attempt fails.”
Achati grimaced. “If Lorkin can be smuggled back to Kyralia, you should arrange it.”
Disobey the king? That’s not what I expected. “How?”
Pinching his lower lip between two fingers, Achati frowned. “If there are any Traitors among the slaves, they might be able to arrange it.”
“With the House being watched so closely? I doubt it. Is this all a ploy to capture some Traitors?”
Achati opened his mouth to reply, but another voice cut him off.
“Well, well. Ashaki Achati. What brings you to the Guild House at this late hour?”
Dannyl and Achati turned to see Tayend stroll into the room. The Elyne’s lips thinned in apology as he approached Achati. He glanced at Dannyl. “Merria is helping out,” he added quietly, reassuring Dannyl that Lorkin wasn’t dealing with the slaves alone.
Achati nodded. “I was sent to make another attempt to persuade Lorkin to talk tomorrow, but…” He repeated his warning about the abductor. “That is my true reason for visiting.”
“You think Dannyl should interrogate the slaves?”
“Yes, to find out which is the spy.”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous? You said this spy is a magician? How strong is he? Is he a higher magician?”
“I don’t know,” Achati admitted. “Probably. He has been ordered not to kill anybody. He…” His gaze shifted to the doorway Tayend had entered through. Dannyl followed his gaze and felt a shock of surprise as Lorkin walked into the room.
The young man’s gaze met Dannyl’s, then slid away. His eyes were very dark and his face pale. Straightening his back, he gave Achati a forced smile.
“Ashaki Achati. What brings you here so late at night?” Lorkin asked, his tone jovial but strained. “Come to take me back to the palace prison?”
A strange, pained look crossed Achati’s face, then the man’s expression smoothed. “No, no. I am trying to prevent that.”
What was that expression? Dannyl asked himself. Then he felt a jolt as he recognised what he had glimpsed: sympathy and sorrow. He felt his recent doubts about Achati weaken a little.
“Achati has warned us that a spy among the slaves is going to attempt to abduct you soon,” Tayend said.
Lorkin’s eyes widened and he looked from Tayend to Dannyl. “Really?”
“Yes,” Dannyl replied. “Tomorrow night, or a following night.”
Dannyl was relieved to see Lorkin’s eyes narrow as he considered the implications. He looked at Achati again.
“Why are you helping us?” he asked bluntly.
“I…” Achati sighed and looked down, then lifted his head to regard Tayend, Lorkin and Dannyl in turn. “I don’t like how the king is treating you. Sachaka may not need Kyralia as an ally, but it also doesn’t need another enemy. We received news a few months ago that has divided our opinion. The…” Achati paused and frowned, then shook his head. “I see no way to explain this without telling you: our spy among the Duna revealed that the Traitors proposed they join forces and attempt to take over Sachaka.”
Dannyl felt a chill run down his spine. I wonder…
“Unh?” he asked.
Achati smiled. “I’m hardly going to tell you who our spies are, Dannyl.”
“No,” Dannyl agreed. “But Unh’s name did spark some interesting reactions from his people when I mentioned it. If it is him, then I suspect they know he is a spy.”
“The Duna turned down the Traitors. Many of the Ashaki have concluded that the Traitors would not approach the Duna unless they needed them, and they feel confident the Traitors would not win a confrontation with us.”
Was this why the Traitors had destroyed the Duna’s stone caves? Was it punishment for refusing to help? Dannyl wondered.
“The king agrees,” Achati continued. “He does not believe the Guild is to be feared. He says you are a Guild of only two magicians. It is more important to rid Sachaka of the Traitor threat before they become strong enough to beat us than to avoid offending Kyralia and the Allied Lands. Only the voices of Ashaki who do not want to lose trade and peace with the Allied Lands, like myself, prevent him taking the information from Lorkin by force.”
A tense silence followed Achati’s words. Lorkin was staring at the floor. The young magician sighed and narrowed his eyes at Achati.
“You wouldn’t have come here if you weren’t willing to work against your king’s orders and wishes,” he said. “How far are you willing to go?”
The Sachakan stared back at Lorkin. He looked uncertain. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s a big difference between preventing my king doing something foolish, and outright betrayal. What do you have in mind?”
Lorkin opened his mouth to reply, but did not get to speak.
“Take the spy away,” Tayend injected. “Make him disappear.”
Dannyl frowned. Though it was a test of Achati’s trustworthiness, it was not a good one. If Achati took the spy to the king instead, the king would still claim that Lorkin wasn’t safe in the Guild House — and he would find out Savi was a Traitor, too.
“No,” Lorkin said. “Take me.”
Dannyl blinked in surprise. Maybe he hasn’t realised this could all be a trick to get us to trust Achati. Tayend shook his head and laid a hand on Lorkin’s arm, but before anyone could speak, Lorkin raised his hands to stall their protests.
“I’m not stupid. I know it’s a risk.” He looked at Achati levelly. “He could hand me over to the king, but judging by the number of slaves here that aren’t slaves — and I don’t mean they’re Traitors — I’m going to end up back at the palace soon anyway.”
This time the shiver that travelled down Dannyl’s back sent cold through his whole body. Just how many spies are there? How many of them are magicians?
“All you need to do is smuggle me out of the Guild House and take me to your mansion,” Lorkin told Achati. “The Traitors will arrange the rest. They will ensure the king does not know your part in my escape. In return, and not until I am sure of my safety and freedom…” Lorkin sighed, then his expression hardened “… I will answer the question your king most wants to ask me. I will tell you where the Traitors’ home is.”
Achati stared back at Lorkin, his surprise changing to thoughtfulness, then approval. He nodded. “I can do that. It won’t be easy getting you into the carriage unseen but-”
“Lorkin,” Dannyl interrupted. “You don’t have to betray the trust of-”
“Let him go,” Tayend said. He met Dannyl’s eyes, his gaze sharp and unwavering, and nodded. Dannyl felt a stab of anger, but it quickly faded.
Tayend wouldn’t do anything to risk Lorkin’s life unnecessarily. He must think this will work. Or that it is the only chance Lorkin has. Which meant that Tayend thought Achati was telling the truth. How strange that it is Tayend who trusts Achati now, when I’m no longer sure of him.
Dannyl could believe that Achati didn’t approve of the king’s actions, but it would take a lot to convince him that the man was willing to go against his ruler’s orders, and risk that his actions would be discovered and considered treachery. He would lose not just the king’s trust, but his position, reputation and wealth. And possibly his life.
But Dannyl couldn’t think of an alternative, so he watched in silence as Achati and Lorkin sealed their agreement with vows. When they were done, Tayend beamed at them all.
“Perfect! Now all we have to do is figure out how to get Lorkin into Achati’s carriage without any of those pesky watchers noticing.”
Finishing her cup of raka, Lilia sighed with relief. In the last day or so she had begun to feel a bit worn around the edges — like the old clothes Jonna had given her to wear when she visited Anyi, Cery and Gol. Late nights spent underground and early morning lessons with Kallen were starting to take a toll.
She suppressed a groan at the thought of facing Kallen this morning. Anyi had told her about the cellar she, Cery and Gol had found under the Guild, and the conversation they’d overheard. From the descriptions, she suspected the two magicians were Lady Vinara and the Healer in charge of growing cure ingredients.
The news that they wanted to grow roet had shocked her at first, but it made sense. She didn’t agree with Cery’s theory that the Guild wanted to grow roet in order to put Skellin out of business — or at least prevent him being the sole supplier of the drug to magicians. It was far more likely that the Guild wanted it to help them find a cure for roet addiction, as well as to explore the plant’s potential as a cure for other maladies. After all, cures for the ill effects of plants were often found in the very plant that caused them.
But the news that the Guild was seeking roet seeds roused other suspicions, and for that reason she was not looking forward to meeting Kallen. Part of her wanted to confront him with what she’d learned. Is this why he won’t help Cery set a trap for Skellin? Are he, and the other magicians addicted to roet, afraid of removing Skellin in case it cuts off the roet supply?
Cery had told her to keep what she knew to herself, unless she had good reason to reveal it. She would have to pretend not to know anything while around Kallen, and somehow act as if she didn’t suspect him of having selfish motives for failing to help her friends.
“You’re lost in thought today,” Jonna noted. She moved to the table and leaned down to pick up the empty dishes from the morning meal. As she did, Lilia caught a strange but pleasant fragrance.
“Are you wearing perfume, Jonna?” she asked.
Jonna hesitated and looked a little guilty. “Yes.”
“What’s wrong?” Lilia frowned. “You don’t usually wear perfume. Are servants not supposed to?”
“Oh, nobody would be that fussy,” Jonna waved a hand, “but… Sonea doesn’t like this one. It was hers, but after she found out what it was made from she told me to throw it out. I like it and… well you can’t blame the plant for what it is. I don’t wear it when I’ll be around her, of course.”
“Which is why I haven’t noticed it before.” Lilia nodded. “It is lovely. What’s it made from?”
Once again, Jonna looked sheepish. “Roet flowers.”
Surprised, Lilia sniffed the air and tried to find some link between the odour and the smell of roet smoke. “It’s hard to believe the scent comes from the same plant.” Then something else occurred to her. “Where do the perfume makers get roet flowers from?”
Jonna shrugged. “I suppose from the people who grow it for the drug.”
Thinking back to Healing lessons on the sources of the Guild’s cures, Lilia considered what she knew about plants. Flowers usually contained a plant’s seeds. The Guild wanted roet seeds. From what Anyi had said, the plants the Guild had grown were not roet. They’d been tricked. Cery didn’t think any roet grower would dare sell seeds to the Guild — though they weren’t averse to cheating the Guild for what would have been a huge profit by substituting some other plant seed. If Skellin found out they had sold anyone roet seed, they wouldn’t live long.
Cery didn’t think roet was grown in Kyralia at all. He suspected it was cultivated elsewhere, harvested and dried before it was shipped to Imardin. Was the same true of the perfume? Most perfume makers were based in Elyne. Did they need fresh plants, or would dried ones do for making perfume?
Lilia stood up. “I had better go. Don’t want to be late and make Kallen nervous.”
Jonna smiled. “See you tonight.”
As she walked to the Arena, Lilia considered everything she knew and how little she could reveal in order to get answers to her questions. In brief moments of rest during Kallen’s lesson she weighed the risks and benefits. The sooner the Guild gets roet seeds, the sooner Kallen will help Cery. I just need to work out how to tell Kallen that I know the Guild is trying to grow it without revealing how I know…
She did not head to the University as soon as Kallen said they were done. He already had that distant, distracted manner where he didn’t meet her eyes but gazed into the distance when she approached him. As he saw she wasn’t leaving, he frowned and then his lips thinned.
“You can go now,” he told her again.
“I know, but I thought you’d like to know something: word on the street is that the Guild tried to buy roet seeds. Is it true?”
His gaze snapped to hers. His pupils widened. That got your attention, she thought.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear from your friends,” he told her.
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this why you won’t help Cery? Afraid the supply will run out if the supplier is captured?”
Kallen’s eyes flashed with anger and his jaw tightened. “You have no idea how lucky you are,” he told her.
She blinked in surprise then felt a flash of anger. “Lucky? Me? My closest friend tricked me into learning black magic to set me up for murdering her father, then tried to kill me. The only people who care about me are far away, or likely to die any day now.”
His eyes widened, then his expression softened. “I apologise. I only meant…” He looked away, grimacing as if in pain. “You are fortunate to avoid being trapped by roet. There are many, many magicians who wish they had your resistance.”
Like yourself, she thought. But she found she couldn’t sustain her disgust at him. His reputation as a man whose integrity was infallible was essential to his role as a black magician. To lose his will to a mere pleasure drug must be humiliating, and would have shaken his confidence. The fact that he was a black magician must be making the other magicians who knew of his affliction nervous. Though, it was as frightening to contemplate what could happen if high numbers of ordinary magicians were held hostage by Skellin.
“How many?” she asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice.
He frowned. “I can’t tell you that. But… we are doing something about helping them.”
“By trying to grow it?”
“To take control of the supply at least. To find a cure or breed a less damaging drug if we can.” Kallen sighed. “You are partly right. We may reduce our chances to acquire seeds if Skellin is killed. We can’t risk attempting to catch him. Yet.” He met her gaze levelly and a fierce determination entered his gaze. “I promise once we have what we need we will find and remove Skellin. That may include accepting your friend’s offer, if he is still willing to take the risk.”
Lilia nodded. She considered what he had told her. It made sense, and she could see no hint that he was lying. There was no advantage in holding back from telling him her idea.
“Did you know there’s a new perfume being sold in the city that is made from roet flowers?”
His eyebrows rose and the spark of interest she had expected flared in his eyes. “No.”
“They have to get the flowers from somewhere.” She smiled. “Maybe the Guild should investigate. Anyway, I should be getting to the next class.”
“Yes. Don’t be late…” he said distractedly.
She left him standing there. When she looked back she saw that, as always, his gaze had fixed on the distance again, but this time he wore an expression of startled realisation.
It was almost unbearably stuffy and hot in the cart, and Lorkin had lost count of the times he’d had to grab his nose to stop sneezing. Like the other slaves in the vehicle, he was covered in a grey powder meant to kill off body lice. For the same reason, his hair had been shaved off. His ankles were chained together and to a metal loop in the centre of the cart’s floor.
His back itched and burned where he’d been whipped, and he had to resist the constant urge to Heal the welts. There had been no reason for the punishment other than the driver establishing his superiority, after Ashaki Achati’s slave master had warned that “this one is trouble”. He resisted gazing in horror at his fellow passengers and tried to hide the anger he felt at their fate. They were the rejects of the city’s slaves, too old, damaged, ugly or disobedient to be of use to their former owners. As far as they knew, they were being shipped off to work in a mine in the south of the Steelbelt mountains.
Bartering had been quick and few questions had been asked, to hasten the sale. Apparently some Sachakans believed that a slave who had been born into a household ought to be cared for by that household if he or she had worked hard for their master, or was crippled in their service. Sometimes they followed the mine cart around, calling shame upon owners who sold slaves to it. None of these protestors had pursued the cart today. It had trundled to the edge of the city without attracting any attention.
Now it was rolling slowly out into the countryside. Lorkin closed his eyes and thought back to his escape from the Guild House.
Tayend had come up with the solution to getting Lorkin out without the watchers noticing. They knew it was likely that the watchers had counted how many slaves Achati had brought with him, so he had gone out to the carriage and told one that he was being loaned to the Guild House to help keep an eye on Lorkin, but in truth to spy on the magicians.
Once the slave had been accepted with thanks and sent off to join the rest, Lorkin had donned Achati’s clothing, padding his torso by stuffing his clothes with clean rags. Achati had put on a slave’s wrap. It would have been amusing to watch Tayend instructing the dignified Ashaki how to walk with a slave’s hunch, if they hadn’t all been so worried that their plan would fail.
As always, the courtyard of the Guild House had been lit by one lamp and they had both kept their faces turned from it. At Tayend’s suggestion they had kept their actions simple: Lorkin strode out of the House and into the carriage, Achati had hurried after and climbed onto the back of the carriage. They’d left the Guild House without any interference. All the way to Achati’s home, Lorkin had sat rigid in the carriage, waiting for a call for them to halt, but none came. Once the carriage passed through the gate of Achati’s mansion, the Ashaki climbed inside the carriage and they’d quickly exchanged clothing.
Lorkin’s rescuer had told him to stay put, then left to have a quiet conversation with a man Lorkin learned later was the household’s slave master. Achati had returned to explain his plan. Once again Lorkin would be disguised as a slave, only this time he must be prepared to endure much harsher treatment — and hope that there were Traitors among Achati’s all-male slaves.
I also have to hope that they saw and recognised me, found out I’d been put on the cart, were able to pass on messages to other Traitors, and that the Traitors are actually able to catch up with the cart, stop it and free me without revealing their, and my, identities.
Thinking about it like that, it sounded a crazy scheme with far too many ways it could all go wrong.
What’s the worst that could happen? I might have to go all the way to the mine. The Steelbelt Ranges run along the border between Sachaka and Kyralia. How hard would it be to free myself with magic, and travel the rest of the way to Kyralia?
How hard depended on whether Sachakan magicians ran the mine. Or if Ichani lurked in the mountains.
I should leave the cart before I get there, when there are no Sachakan magicians around, but we are close to the mountains. If only I knew what Sachaka was like down in the southern corner. Does the wasteland extend as far as the sea? Do the Ichani roam that far?
The cart began to slow. Opening his eyes, Lorkin glanced around to see both fear and hope in the faces of the other slaves. He heard the sound of a stomach growling. Perhaps they were going to be given food and water.
The cart stopped and he heard voices outside.
“The well’s likely to collapse. I don’t want to risk one of mine. They’re healthy and useful,” a haughty voice said.
The driver replied in a low, wheedling voice. Lorkin could not make out the words.
“Name the price,” the haughty one commanded.
A pause, then the cart shifted and two sets of footsteps moved around to the rear. The lock rattled, then the doors opened. Bright light flooded in, blinding Lorkin.
“That one will do.”
“He’s trouble.”
“Then you’ll be glad to be rid of him. If he survives and is troublesome, I’ll sell him back to you. Here.”
The clink of coins followed. Lorkin’s eyes had begun to adjust to the light. He could see an Ashaki standing next to the driver, who was leaning in to unlock the chains of one of the slaves.
Lorkin’s heart stopped as he realised those chains were his own.
For a wild moment he considered blasting his way out of the cart with magic, but stopped himself with an effort. Wherever you end up, there will be Traitors, he told himself. They will find you. They will free you.
Whatever work this Ashaki planned for him sounded dangerous, but at least Lorkin could use magic to protect himself. At least none of these other poor slaves will have to risk their lives doing it.
“Come on,” the driver said, grabbing Lorkin’s leg and pulling. Lorkin hauled himself to his feet, stepping over the legs of other slaves between him and the open doors. He had to jump to the ground, and the restraining chains prevented him keeping his balance. He fell face first on the ground.
Well, at least that saves me the humiliation of throwing myself on the ground before my new owner.
“Stay there,” the haughty voice said.
The man waited until the cart had driven away before he spoke again. By then Lorkin had stolen enough glances to either side to see there were two burly male slaves standing alongside him and the Ashaki.
“Get up. Follow me.”
Lorkin obeyed. The chains rattled and shortened his stride as he followed the Ashaki and his two slaves through a small gate and into a courtyard. Another slave waited with a large hammer.
“Get rid of those,” the Ashaki ordered.
The slave pointed to a bench. Lorkin sat down and obediently positioned the leg chains where the man directed. After a few nerve-wracking but accurate blows, the chains fell from Lorkin’s ankles.
The Ashaki watched it all, looking bored. He then gestured for Lorkin to follow and led the way into the building. Damp, freshly scented air surrounded them as they entered a bathhouse. The Ashaki gestured to a pile of cloth on a wooden seat.
“Clean yourself and put those on. Don’t take too long. We don’t have much time.”
Lorkin glanced behind to find that the two burly slaves hadn’t followed them into the building. The Ashaki smiled, all haughtiness gone, then left the room. Alone, Lorkin stared after the man.
Something isn’t right about this.
Moving over to the seat, Lorkin lifted the topmost piece from the pile of cloth. His heart skipped, then soared, and he found himself grinning.
They were the simple, comfortable clothes of a Traitor.