The Traitor Queen tst-3 Page 6

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You... but you...”

  “Won a formal challenge and defeated invading Sachakans. It’s amazing what you can learn when you have to. Still, I did have a wonderful teacher.”

  “You won...?” Lilia blinked and straightened. “Which teacher was that?”

  Taking her raka to the main table, Sonea sat down and helped herself to a sweet bun from a platter. “Lord Yikmo. He died in the invasion.”

  “Oh.” Lilia’s shoulders dropped. Then she looked up again. “A formal challenge?”

  Sonea smiled. “A fellow novice who was making life difficult for me.”

  “He accepted a challenge from a black magician?”

  “It happened before then. I don’t recommend it as a way of dealing with annoying novices. Only as a last resort, and if you’re confident of winning.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Are any novices giving you a hard time?”

  Lilia shook her head. “No, they ignore me most of the time. That’s fine. I understand why they avoid me. And I have Anyi.”

  Sonea felt a pang of sympathy, and gratitude toward Cery for allowing Anyi to visit. “Well, if any of the novices are friendly toward you – properly friendly, not a trick – then don’t turn them away too quickly. You’ll be working with them soon enough.”

  “I know.”

  Lilia looked resigned, but not unhappy. Finishing the bun and raka, Sonea rose and sighed. “Will you be all right staying here on your own while I’m gone, Lilia?”

  The girl looked up. “Of course. With Jonna and Black Magician Kallen looking after me, how could I not be?” She frowned. “You’re the one who is going to be in danger, Black Magician Sonea. You... you will be careful?”

  Sonea smiled. “Of course. I have every intention of coming back. After all, I want to see your graduation.” She moved to the door, then paused and looked back. “I won’t be working at the hospices now, so I’ll probably be coming and going a lot. I’ll make sure I knock before entering, in case Anyi has snuck in to see you.”

  Lilia nodded. “Thanks.”

  Leaving her rooms, Sonea found the Magicians’ Quarters corridor busy with magicians. She returned respectful nods and greetings on her way out. The courtyard outside was crowded with novices and magicians, some making their way to and from the Baths, others heading toward the University, and more than a few simply enjoying the early spring sunshine.

  Heads turned toward her as always. There was something about black robes that drew the eye. Not even the white robes of the High Lord or the blue of the Administrator attracted as much attention. Novices might notice and watch them pass, bowing respectfully as they were meant to do to all graduated magicians, but they did not stare and take a step back as they did for Sonea and Kallen.

  And every time they do, I remember Akkarin, and how everyone did the same to him, though they didn’t know, as I did, that he practised black magic. He wore black only because it was the colour of the High Lord then, but since it also marked him as the most powerful magician in the Guild I guess that made him as intimidating as a Black Magician is now.

  She suppressed a sigh, ignored the stares, and headed toward the University.

  Once inside she chose the passage through the centre of the building rather than the main corridors on either side. Stepping out of this into the Great Hall, she looked up at the glass-panelled ceiling three levels up, then at the rough stone of the original Guildhall building standing proudly within the vast room. There won’t be another Meet before I leave, she realised, slowing her steps. This might be the last time I see this place.

  She stared at the building, then shook her head and quickened her stride again. Only if everything goes terribly wrong, she amended.

  Reaching the end of the Great Hall, she passed through the other end of the central passage then turned into the right-hand side corridor and stopped at the first door. At a tap from her knuckles the door swung inward, and she stepped into Osen’s office.

  The Administrator was sitting at his desk, facing two magicians who had turned to regard her. High Lord Balkan inclined his head respectfully and murmured her name, as did Osen. The third magician was becoming more familiar to her.

  “King’s Adviser Glarrin,” she said, nodding to him first before turning to the others. “High Lord. Administrator.”

  “Black Magician Sonea,” Glarrin replied.

  He was in his sixties, she knew, but looked younger. Though he was officially the king’s military adviser in matters relating to magic and the Guild, he also handled peacetime international relations. A second King’s Adviser handled domestic matters – mostly political wrangling between the Houses. A task I don’t envy him.

  “Please sit,” Osen said. He gestured to three chairs, which slid closer and into a half-circle before his desk. They all sat down. Osen leaned forward onto his elbows. “We’re here to discuss how Black Magician Sonea should go about negotiating the release of her son. First I have some news from Ambassador Dannyl.”

  Sonea felt her heart skip a beat.

  “Ashaki Achati, the king’s representative that Ambassador Dannyl has established a friendly relationship with, visited the Guild House last night,” Osen continued. “He relayed the king’s desire for Dannyl to persuade Lorkin to answer questions about the Traitors. Dannyl, of course, repeated that he was in no position to order Lorkin to. Ashaki Achati would not say what would happen if Lorkin did not talk, but he did make it clear that Sachaka feels no great reluctance to sever friendly ties with the Allied Lands. It was not a threat, Dannyl assures me, but a statement of fact. They do not need to trade with us or feel we would be a threat as an enemy.”

  “Is it a bluff?” Balkan asked.

  “Perhaps,” Glarrin replied. “It is too close to the truth, however. I would not want to test it. Sachaka doesn’t need us just as we do not need it, but we would both lose some lucrative opportunities if stricter restrictions on trade were imposed.”

  “So reminding them of the wealth they may miss out on is all I can do?” Sonea asked.

  Glarrin pursed his lips in thought. “It would not hurt to point out that the Allied Lands seek trade with Sachaka rather than rebels. That might at least reassure them that we don’t plan to side with their enemy.”

  “Of course, the fact that we are seeking trade with the Traitors should not be mentioned,” Balkan added, with a chuckle.

  “Of course not.” Sonea smiled. “Though should I hint that we might consider such a possibility, should Sachaka prove uncooperative... and perhaps unreliable when it comes to upholding agreements relating to the safety of Guild magicians?”

  “No,” Glarrin said. “They will not take kindly to that sort of threat. I...” He paused, his eyes focusing on a distant point. “The king asks if the Traitors can be contacted – if they can do anything to help us. After all, they can’t have planned for Lorkin to be imprisoned.”

  The Kyralian king and Glarrin must be communicating via a blood ring, Sonea realised. That one little magical trick of Akkarin’s has become very popular since the Guild decided using one wasn’t technically using black magic.

  “We can try,” Balkan replied. “Dannyl’s assistant, Lady Merria, has established a way to send messages to the Traitors.”

  “We won’t get an answer before Sonea leaves,” Osen pointed out. He looked at Balkan. “Sonea should leave a blood ring of hers here. Should she carry a blood ring from one of us as well?”

  “Whoever gives her a ring risks seeing the secret of black magic in her mind.”

  “Not if she’s wearing Naki’s ring.” Osen pointed out.

  Sonea nodded. The ring Lilia’s former friend had used to stop her mind being read also protected the wearer from access via a blood ring.

  Balkan nodded. “It will be useful if Sonea can contact us when she chooses – but Dannyl already has a ring of yours. Would it be better to give her one from me?”

  “If the Sachakans seize them, then they can an
noy the both of us.” Osen shook his head. “She should take one from me.”

  Sonea hid her amusement at his choice of words. If someone got hold of Osen’s blood ring, the malicious things they could do with it wouldn’t be designed to annoy him. Then she sobered. As they could to me, if they got hold of the blood ring I gave Lorkin. Thankfully Osen had told Lorkin not to take it to the meeting with the Sachakan king. If they had it, all they’d have to do is torture Lorkin while...

  “When will I be leaving?” she asked, to turn her thoughts somewhere less frightening.

  “Tomorrow night,” Osen said. “We’ll call a Meet tomorrow and ask for volunteers to give you magical strength. We’ve decided to let it be known that Lorkin has been imprisoned by the Sachakan king and we are sending you to negotiate for his release.”

  “Amakira has given us the perfect excuse to send you to Sachaka,” Glarrin said. “You are to try meeting with the Traitors as well, though it would be best if you did it after Lorkin was free – even better if he was home – in case the meeting is discovered.” He frowned and looked away, then smiled. “The king asks how Lilia’s Warrior training is going.”

  Balkan grimaced. “Lilia is no natural Warrior. Her reflexes and comprehension are good, and her defence strong, but she shows no initiative in battle.”

  “Ah,” Sonea said, smiling. “A familiar problem.”

  Glarrin looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

  “I was much the same,” she explained. “If only Lord Yikmo hadn’t been killed in the Ichani Invasion. He was good at teaching reluctant novices.”

  “Lady Rol Ley had studied Yikmo’s methods,” Balkan said, his expression thoughtful. “She teaches many of the standard classes all novices attend, so she will know Lilia’s strengths and weaknesses.”

  “She sounds like she could help,” Sonea said. “I’d offer to if I wasn’t about to leave.”

  “Maybe you can when you get back,” Osen said. “Is there anything else we need to discuss.”

  “Nothing that can’t be relayed through blood rings,” Glarrin said. “We should not delay Sonea’s leaving more than necessary.”

  Osen looked at her. “Is there anything you must do before you go?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Then you had better let your assistant know he’ll be leaving tomorrow night.”

  She stood up. “If we’re done here, I’ll do that next.”

  * * *

  Final-year Warrior classes had never been a part of Lilia’s plans for the future. According to the University standards, she had achieved the minimum level of understanding and skill required for a novice to graduate. She ought to be off in the Healer’s Quarters learning advanced techniques, but instead she was being roundly trounced by novices destined to be the next generation of red-robed magicians.

  They were finding her presence in the class fascinating. It wasn’t every day that a novice or magician got to practise fighting with and against a black magician. They didn’t even seem to mind that she wasn’t good at it, because the lessons were mostly demonstrations with little actual magic used. She wasn’t allowed to take and store power – not even if that power was given willingly. But she had to admit that, when the lessons didn’t involve her making decisions or taking the initiative, she found them as interesting as the other novices did.

  Black magic certainly changed the dynamics of fighting. She’d have thought being able to steal magic from a person would be the most useful black magic ability in battle, but it wasn’t. It still required her to get close enough to that person to cut their skin and break their natural barrier against magical outside interference. By the time she had worn an enemy down enough to do this, there was little magic left to take.

  Being able to store magic was a much bigger advantage. It was disturbing how it made non-black magicians redundant, once they’d given their power to a black magician. It was also frightening to realise how important it made her, over the others. And more of a target.

  When it came to actually engaging in a fight, she nearly always made the wrong decisions, acted too soon or hesitated too long. As her latest attack on the “enemy” scattered ineffectually off his shield, Black Magician Kallen called a halt.

  “Better,” he told her. He looked around the Arena. The tall spires supporting the invisible barrier of magic that protected everything outside from the practice bouts within were now casting shorter shadows on the ground. “That’s enough,” he said, looking at the trainee Warriors. “You may go.”

  They all looked surprised, but did not argue. Kallen waited as they left through the short tunnel entrance, then walked beside Lilia as she followed them.

  “Wait, Lilia,” he said as they emerged.

  He said nothing as the other novices strode away, but then sighed. Looking up at him, Lilia saw that he was scowling, but his expression smoothed as he noticed her looking at him. She looked down and waited for his assessment.

  “You’re improving,” he said. “It may not feel like it, but you are learning how to respond to different challenges.”

  “I am?” She blinked at him in surprise. “You looked so... disappointed.”

  His mouth thinned into a grim line and he looked over at the University. “I am merely annoyed at my own deficiencies.”

  Looking closer, she saw a tension in his face. Something about his eyes brought a sudden jolt of pain as a memory of Naki rose. Naki with that same distressed look about her, which usually led straight to the lighting of her roet brazier.

  A shiver of realisation ran down Lilia’s spine. She had smelled roet smoke on Kallen, wafting from his robes, once or twice before. Never before a Warrior lesson, thankfully. She did not like the idea of fighting against or relying on the shield of someone taking a drug that reduced their ability to care about their actions.

  If he hadn’t smoked any roet before this lesson, was he now craving it as a result? Was that why he’d ended the class early?

  Taking a step away, he opened his mouth to speak. “Well that’s all—”

  “I have a message from Cery,” she said.

  He stopped, his gaze sharpening. “Yes?”

  “He was attacked. Someone betrayed him. He has had to go into hiding and let people think he’s dead. You won’t be able to meet him for a while. It’s too risky.”

  Kallen’s brows lowered. “Was he injured?”

  She shook her head and felt a small pang of gratitude at his concern. Not what I would have expected. Maybe he isn’t as cold and rigid as I thought. “One of his bodyguards was, but he’s fine now. He asks that you not tell anybody that he is alive, and that you send messages through me and Anyi.”

  “You see Anyi often?”

  She nodded.

  His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t leaving the Guild grounds to see her, are you?”

  “No.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully, as if pondering whether she was lying or not.

  “Cery would like to know if you have made any progress in finding Skellin,” she told him.

  “None. We’re following a few leads, but nothing promising has come from them so far.”

  “Anything I can ask Cery about?”

  The look he gave her did not conceal his scepticism. “No. If I find out anything that he needs to know, I will pass it on.” He looked toward the University again. “You may go now.”

  Lilia suppressed a sigh at his dismissal, bowed, and walked away. After several paces she looked back, and caught a glimpse of Kallen before he disappeared behind the University building. From the angle of his path, she guessed he was heading for the Magicians’ Quarters.

  Off to have a dose of roet? she wondered. Did he avoid telling me anything about his hunt for Skellin because he doesn’t think Cery or I need to know, or was it going to take too long, keeping him from the drug?

  And why don’t I have this craving for it? She hadn’t smoked roet for months. The smell of it sometimes made her want it, but not i
n a way that overcame her determination never to use it again. Donia, the bolhouse owner who had helped Lilia hide from Lorandra and the Guild, had said it affected people differently.

  I’m just lucky, I guess. She felt a pang of unexpected sympathy for Kallen. And he obviously isn’t.

  * * *

  “Tell us what you know and you can go free.”

  Lorkin could not hold back a chuckle. The interrogator straightened a little at his reaction, his eyes brightening.

  “Why do you laugh?”

  “I could tell you anything. How would you know it was the truth?”

  The man smiled, but there was no humour in his eyes. He knows I am right. Meeting the man’s eyes, Lorkin felt a chill run down his spine. There was a sharpness to them. A patience that suggested he would enjoy the hours of interrogation to come. That he was just beginning. This was only the second day of many to come.

  They hadn’t tried to read his mind yet. Something was holding them back. A reluctance to damage relations with the Allied Lands? But then why lock him up in the first place?

  They can’t have dismissed the idea entirely. Eventually they would try it. Once they attempted and failed to read his mind, they would realise they had sacrificed good relations with the Allied Lands for no benefit. With restraint for the sake of diplomacy abandoned, nothing would stop them torturing him – but they would face the same problem: not knowing if what he said was true.

  Perhaps they would verify his words in other ways. Perhaps they hoped imprisonment, discomfort and fear would drive him to give them permission to read his mind.

  He almost wished they’d get it over and done with. He was tempted to offer a willing mind-read, to speed things up. Instead he thought of a range of ridiculous lies he could tell the interrogator. It would be fun, at least temporarily, to lead the man on for a while. But not yet, he told himself. It’s only the second day. You can hold out for much longer than this.

  The interrogator’s companion appeared in the doorway carrying a bowl. Glancing at him, the Ashaki questioner smiled, then looked back at Lorkin.