The two middle-aged men were still in their cell when Lorkin returned from his second day with the interrogator, but the couple who had been imprisoned there had gone. Once again water had been left for him, but no food. Hunger had made it difficult to sleep until he gave in again and soothed it away with magic.
It was impossible to tell what time it was. No windows allowed in light to indicate day or night. Lorkin had to rely on the routine of the interrogator and watcher to measure the passing of the days. When he woke he noted that the watcher was still in place, gazing at him with alert eyes but no expression. Sitting with his back to the wall, Lorkin entertained himself with mental games and memories.
A sound eventually drew his attention. Footsteps warned of someone approaching. The watcher turned away, then stood up. Lorkin sighed quietly and got to his feet, bracing himself for another day of questions and hunger.
Instead of the interrogator, a male slave appeared holding a tray on which lay a bowl, a lump of bread and a goblet. Lorkin could not help feeling his heart skip with hope as the watcher examined the items then stepped forward to open the gate to his cell.
The slave’s eyes remained downcast as he stepped inside, lowered the tray to the floor and backed out again.
The watcher paused to regard Lorkin thoughtfully after he’d relocked the gate. Lorkin waited until the man returned to his seat before approaching the tray. He picked it up and carried it to the far side of the cell.
The bowl was full of a cold, opaque soup. The goblet contained wine. There were no utensils.
If any of this is poisoned, I won’t know until I try eating it. I’ve never had to Heal away poison before. It’ll use up more of Tyvara’s power than simply quashing hunger. Should I risk it? Do I need to eat badly enough?
The particles in the soup were settling to the bottom, leaving most of the liquid clear. But the growing sediment was not forming a flat layer. It clung to something lying at the bottom. Something square and thin. He felt a tingle run down his spine.
Aware that the watcher was observing his every move, he drew a tiny amount of magic and used it to gently nudge the particles away from the object. At first the soup clouded at the slightest stirring, but soon it settled allowing him to confirm what he’d suspected.
The object was a piece of paper.
‘ Boil soup to make safe. Bread good. Wine bad.’
Beneath was a squiggle. It would have been taken as a flourish or hastily drawn initials by someone else, but Lorkin recognised it as one of the code signs the Traitors had told him to look for.
They know I’m here, he thought, his heart lifting in relief and hope. They’re going to get me out of here. But even as the thought crossed his mind he knew he could not expect that much. The prison was under the very palace itself and guarded by Ashaki and the independent, fiercely loyal guard class that was unique to this place.
It was nice to know the Traitors were trying to help him, though. Drawing more magic, he set the soup boiling. That at least explained to the watcher why he’d been staring at it so intently. He still drank it slowly and paid attention to his body in case the note was a clever lie. The bread was stale, so he dipped it in the soup to soften it.
He didn’t touch the wine. Would the interrogator, or whoever had poisoned it, wonder how Lorkin had known to avoid it, or would he assume Lorkin simply didn’t want his senses fogged by wine during the next session?
Not long after he’d finished eating, the slave returned for the tray. Lorkin held it up for the man to take. The slave’s gaze rose to meet his.
“Lord Dannyl says King Merin wants you to tell them everything,” the man said, his words barely a whisper.
Lorkin nodded to show he understood, and turned away so that the watcher would not see his smile.
As if I’d believe that! They must think I’m stupid, if they think I’d accept such an order from anyone but Dannyl himself. Even then… I’d have to consider that Dannyl was being blackmailed or threatened.
Administrator Osen had given Lorkin a code word as well, in case the Sachakans tried something like this. Forcing the smile from his face, Lorkin leaned back against the wall and waited for the interrogator to arrive and the day’s questioning to begin.
The Foodhall was almost vibrating with noise, despite the midday meal finishing some time ago. Lilia resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at the other novices. The sudden announcement that lessons had been cancelled for the afternoon while the entire Guild attended a Meet had sent them into a mix of giddy exhilaration at their unexpected freedom and excited speculation as to the cause of the meeting.
Lilia already knew the reason for it, but nobody was asking her and she had much more important things to worry about. Like keeping Cery, Gol and Anyi fed and supplied with lamp oil and candles. Lilia had decided Jonna, Sonea’s servant, was the key to both. She had to find a way to persuade the woman to bring more supplies these things to Sonea’s rooms, without it sounding suspicious.
It was easy enough to smuggle small items into the tunnels. The lacquered boxes that servants used to carry food could be lowered down the gap in the wall of Sonea’s room using magic. Larger items like whole pieces of furniture weren’t going to fit in the narrow space, however. Perhaps they could use other entrances to the tunnels. She had heard that there were some in the University.
Even if she did find another way in, most of the furniture in the Guild was old and valuable so likely to be missed. The servants’ furniture might be less precious, but they lived and worked away from the areas magicians and novices frequented. If Lilia wandered over to the servants’ quarters, or even slipped into the kitchens beside the Foodhall, she’d stand out like, as her mother would say, “a prince at a beggar’s ball”.
I need to find cast-offs that nobody is using. They’ll probably be broken, but I suppose we can try to fix them. We might have to pull them apart and reassemble them anyway, to get them into the tunnels. I’d have to get hold of some wood and nails — and tools. Hmm, if I’m going to do that, maybe we could smuggle wood in and make furniture from scratch.
“Look, it’s the black novice.”
The words were spoken loudly and from close by. Lilia looked up and met the eyes of the speaker. He was Bokkin, a tall novice — a lowie who liked to bully those weaker than him. None of the lowies protested too loudly because he was bold enough to pick on the snooties as much as the lowies.
He’d stopped to lean on a nearby table, the usual group of followers hovering around him. She doubted they actually liked him. More likely they allied themselves with him to avoid being his target.
“Got anybody killed lately?” he asked, his lips twisted in a sneer.
She tilted her head to the side and pretended to consider. “Well, no actually.”
“What are you going to do with yourself now that Black Magician Sonea is leaving?” He pushed away from the table. “You’ll be all alone in her rooms. Got a new girlfriend? Or do you want to see what a man’s like for once?” He strutted up to her table and thrust his groin close to her face. “How about I show you what you’ve been missing?”
So they know Sonea’s leaving. Lilia leaned back and looked up at him. She’d considered that someone might try to take advantage of the situation, but hadn’t expected anyone to test her so soon.
“You never showed any interest before.” She stood up slowly, staying close so that her face ended up near to his, and stared straight into his eyes. “Must be the black magic that changed your mind. You’re attracted to it, aren’t you? The thrill of danger. I’ve been told to watch for people like you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she grabbed his face, fingers digging into the flesh of his jaw. At the same time she pushed at him with a sharp jab of magic, forcing him to stagger backwards before he could summon up the magic to resist it. She followed and pressed him back against the edge of the next table.
“You know what’s going on in that Meet? Black Magician Sonea is taking power from every magician in the Guild. Using black magic. One day — maybe one day soon — I might do that to you. You’ll have no choice. King’s orders. Do you really want to give me reason to make it as unpleasant as possible?”
He stared back at her, his face pale. She let go and wiped her hand on the front of his robe. The novices around her were silent, and the silence was spreading. She did not take her eyes from Bokkin, but she could see in the edges of her vision that faces were turning toward her.
“You had better hope she returns,” she told him. She turned her back, picked up her bag and the pieces of fruit and spiced bread rolls she’d collected for her evening meal, and left the hall.
As she stepped into the corridor she felt a rush of triumph.
That’ll get them talking. And worrying about the reason for Sonea’s trip to Sachaka, but they’ll wonder about that anyway. I’m not going to let anyone think that her leaving makes me vulnerable.
If the only future she had was to be restricted to the Guild grounds, groomed to be a protector of the Allied Lands and the main target of any enemy who might attack, then she wanted to be treated with respect in return.
Failing that, with people like Bokkin who are too stupid to remember who’ll be risking their life for him, I’ll settle for being feared.
From her seat at the front of the Guildhall, Sonea watched the gathering magicians and struggled to keep her breathing slow and even.
What will they do? Is twenty years of getting used to the idea of black magic long enough for them to agree to take part in it? Will they consider my mission to free my son justification enough?
It would have been easier to dismiss these questions if the other Higher Magicians hadn’t also expressed the same concerns earlier. None could predict the outcome of the Meet. All had thought some magicians would refuse to give their magic and some would not, but their opinions differed greatly on the likely numbers of either.
On both sides of the long hall, magicians were taking their seats. As always, patches of green, red and purple formed where friends of the same discipline gathered together. The dominant colour was the Alchemist’s purple, but the numbers of Healers had grown in the last few decades and there was plenty of green around the hall. Though more Warriors existed than ever before, red robes were still in the minority. This didn’t worry her, though. While most magicians dedicated their energies to something more useful, she knew that the majority of them still maintained their fighting skills in their spare time.
At the front of the hall the Higher Magicians waited. Only Administrator Osen was missing from the tiered seats. As always he would address the room from the Front, the area before the Higher Magicians. Sonea looked at the row of seats above hers. The king’s chair was empty, but both King’s Advisers had joined the Meet — which was unusual. Adviser Glarrin met her eyes and nodded; Adviser Rolden, who had been present twenty years before when she and Akkarin had been judged and exiled, glanced at her and frowned.
Looking down, Sonea noted how the Higher Magicians in the lower tiers of seats kept casting glances upward. From his place among the Heads of Studies in the bottom row, Rothen met Sonea’s eyes. He looked grim, but managed a reassuring smile.
Their dinner the night before had been shadowed by frightening possibilities. She knew he was wondering if this was the last time he’d see her. It was another fear to add to the worry that he’d never see Lorkin again. He’d offered to go with her. She’d reminded him that he knew too much about her other reason for the journey. He’d nodded, then said that he would take comfort from the fact she had chosen a reliable assistant.
Looking around the hall, she searched for Lord Regin and found him sitting, as she’d expected, near the front. He looked serious and aloof. This might have been a deliberate mask of his true feelings, but it was hard to tell. He always looked serious and aloof.
I hope Rothen is right about him. Well, of course he is. Regin takes his responsibility to the Guild, Kyralia and the Allied Lands much too seriously to jeopardise our task.
Which meant, no matter how unpleasant things got between them, he would obey her orders.
Most of the magicians had settled in their seats now. Administrator Osen strode out in front of the Higher Magicians and a gong rang to mark the beginning of the Meet.
The room immediately quietened.
“At this Meet here today we have an exceptional situation to discuss and deal with,” Osen began, “and, as such, the course of action given to us will be unique in the history of the Guild.” He paused and looked around the room. “As you may already know, Ambassador Dannyl travelled to Sachaka some months ago to serve in the Guild House of Arvice. He took with him the young magician Lord Lorkin, who had volunteered to be his assistant.
“Not long after settling in Arvice, Lord Lorkin was saved from assassination by a slave. The slave was a spy for the people known as the Traitors, Sachakans who have lived separately to the rest of the country for hundreds of years. To evade future attacks on his life, this slave helped Lorkin flee to the Traitors’ secret home.
“There Lorkin learned more about these people. They reject slavery and though they use black magic they appear to live peacefully. They have a network of spies throughout Sachaka — though from all I have heard the main aim of their spying is their own protection.
“Recently Lorkin sought to return home. On arriving in Arvice he was summoned by King Amakira and ordered to reveal all he had learned of the Traitors. Knowing that he must give any such information to King Merin first, Lorkin refused. Though this was made clear to King Amakira, and he agreed when we sent the first ambassadors to Sachaka that they will answer to their own king, he sent Lorkin to the palace prison.”
Sonea felt her stomach sink. No matter how many times she heard it spoken, the thought of Lorkin in a dank cell made her heart shrivel.
The hall had grown quiet. Funny, I expected there to be protests and anger. I think they’re mostly too shocked to speak, though I’m not sure whether they’re more appalled at the audacity of Amakira daring to imprison a Guild magician, or at the possibility this might lead to another conflict with Sachaka.
“The king has approved our request to send a negotiator to seek Lorkin’s release,” Osen continued. “We chose our negotiator carefully, considering who might have the greatest influence on the Sachakan king. The Sachakan prejudice against magicians who do not know black magic narrowed our choices.” Osen turned to look up at the Higher Magicians and held out his arm toward Sonea as if offering her a hand out of a carriage. “We chose Black Magician Sonea.”
She felt her skin prickle and her face heat as hundreds of gazes shifted to her. A murmur of voices filled the hall. Resisting an urge to look down and away, she stared back at the assembled magicians, heart beating a little too fast. What will they do?
Osen’s outstretched hand beckoned. Swallowing a sigh, she rose and started to descend the steep stairs to the Front.
“But the advantage in sending a black magician will not count unless that black magician is as powerful as we can make her,” Osen continued. As Sonea reached his side, he glanced at her once then turned to face the assembly. “The permission of the king has been granted for Black Magician Sonea to gather strength for this mission. We call for volunteers to give their power to this cause.”
The hum of voices that had been gathering now grew louder, swelled, then diminished again. Osen, judging their mood, raised his arms and the room fell into a restless quiet.
“This is the first time such permission has been granted, and thankfully not for the reason we have long feared. We have learned, in the last twenty years, that black magic need not involve barbaric rituals and unpleasant bloodletting. Though this fact is taught to our novices and such reassurances given to all else, there may be some for whom this is not clear. I call upon Black Magician Sonea to explain.”
Sonea drew in a deep breath and worked magic into the air before her to amplify her voice.
“Sachakan magicians cut the skins of their slaves because their slaves are not magicians and can’t offer up their power. They do the same to their victims in war because their victims are hardly going to offer up their power willingly. The ritual of higher magic in our past was a symbolic gesture of an apprentice’s submission to his master, and no longer relevant.”
She managed a smile, though she suspected it would look more grim than reassuring. “I only require a magician to draw and send power to me so I can take it and store it. That is all. The giver need do nothing more than a trick taught to every novice in their first year of University.” She looked around the hall. That’s really all the explanation it needs, she thought, but as Osen began to turn away from her she thought of something else.
“It seems only a small thing to ask of each of you,” she said. “A day’s strength. But if it leads to the freeing of my son you… at the least you’ll have my own and my son’s heartfelt gratitude.”
Osen nodded. “And you’ll have ensured the safety of a member of the Guild, a citizen of Kyralia and the Allied Lands, while securing ongoing peace with Sachaka. Which is no small thing at all.” He turned to face the tiered seats. “We will begin with the Higher Magicians.”
Sonea felt her heart skip as High Lord Balkan rose and descended from the tiered seats, followed by several other Higher Magicians. As Balkan approached, a voice called his name from the side of the hall. All turned to see that King’s Advisers had come down from the highest row.
“Would you permit me to be the first,” the adviser asked Balkan. The High Lord smiled and stepped aside, gesturing to Sonea.
“The king sends his best wishes,” Glarrin told her. He held out his hands to her.
Taking them, she nodded. “Please convey my thanks in return, Adviser.” She felt her skin tingle as he sent power to her. Drawing it inward, she felt a slight sensation that told her she now held more magic than her natural limit, but when he was done she could not judge how much power he had given her.
Glarrin stepped away, bowing slightly toward Balkan. Sonea looked up at the tall Guild leader. He regarded her with a familiar slightly surprised expression. As if he has as much trouble thinking of me as a Higher Magician as I do of him being High Lord. Though Balkan is a competent leader, only Akkarin will ever fit the title in my mind.
She took his hands and power, and slowly the rest of the Higher Magicians took their turn. All but Kallen. Osen had decided that a few magicians should still retain their full strength at the end of the meeting. When the last of the Higher Magicians stepped away, Sonea turned to face the hall.
And felt her heart stop.
All of the seats were empty. Every magician was standing in the centre of the hall, waiting. Well, it’s possible that those who don’t intend to volunteer have slipped out already, she told herself. But the crowd that waited was too large for many to have decided not to participate.
She realised she had stopped breathing, and heard a gasp escape her mouth as the first magician stepped forward.
Regin. His eyes brightened with unexpected humour as he reached out to take her hands.
“You really don’t know how much people respect you, do you?” he murmured as he sent her magic.
“Respect me?” She shook her head. “They’re not doing this for me. They’re doing it for a fellow magician and Kyralia.”
“That as well,” he admitted. “But it’s not the only reason.”
He gave her a lot of power. At least it seemed that way. She watched him walk away, looking for indications of physical weariness and worried that he would be tired at the start of their journey that night, but the next magician stepped forward and she had to turn away.
And then the next, and the next. Healers, Warriors, Alchemists. Men and women. Old and young. Magicians from the Houses and all other classes. They all spoke a few words, wishing her luck, expressing their hopes that Lorkin had been treated well and would be released, even warning her to watch out for Ichani when crossing the wasteland, and urging her to come home safely. Overwhelmed and surprised, she struggled at times to appear calm and dignified. At one point she felt a wave of sadness as she suddenly remembered another time, standing in this hall while magicians filed past. Then, they had been tearing her robes and those of Akkarin as they spoke ritual words of banishment.
Because we learned black magic in order to defend Kyralia. How much things have changed.
When finally a magician moved away and she found there were no more waiting, she felt a great relief and weariness. She nearly laughed aloud at that. This taking of power was supposed to make her stronger, not tired. She focused on the power within her, detecting that a glow of magic was escaping from her control. Remembering Akkarin’s instruction, she strengthened the barrier of influence lying at her skin, and felt the leakage stop. Then she considered the power within.
Aside from knowing her strength had been boosted, the only way she could guess at how strong she’d become was to add up the number of magicians who had given her magic. She wasn’t even sure how powerful the average Guild magician was. I haven’t held this much power since the Ichani Invasion, when the poor people offered their strength in preparation for the battle ahead.
Osen was still standing beside her. The hall was empty but for him, Regin and Rothen. A gong rang out, indicating the end of the Meet despite most of the magicians not being present to hear it.
“What time is it?” she found herself asking.
Osen considered. “I believe the University gong rang a short while ago.”
She looked at him in surprise. “That late?” She looked at Regin. “It’s nearly time to load up the carriage.”
“You have a few hours still.” Osen smiled. “You should both eat a good meal before you go.”
Sonea felt her stomach knot. “I’m not sure I can.”
“That’ll disappoint everyone.”
She frowned at him. “Why?”
His smile widened. “The Higher Magicians have a farewell dinner waiting for you in the banquet room. You didn’t think we’d let you go without saying goodbye, did you?”
She looked at him in amazement. Osen chuckled. “Come on, they’re all in the Night Room having a drink while they wait for you to join them.”