“Not without the help of a magician, I suspect.”
The tribesman looked at him and smiled. “No.”
“So we’d better get you out of here sooner rather than later. How about we levitate over that pile of rocks and see if any of our Sachakan companions have dug themselves out yet?”
“Is a good idea,” the tribesman agreed.
When she had finally left Skellin, Sonea had simultaneously wanted to scream in frustration and cheer in relief.
By now, not only could Dannyl have found Lorkin, she’d thought, but there could have been a battle, funerals for the dead arranged, and a victory celebration held. Osen must have progressed from wondering where I am to discovering I haven’t been at the hospice all night to ordering Kallen to start strengthening himself ready to hunt me down.
And all for nothing. Well, not nothing. They had found one rogue. Just not the one they were looking for.
But at least she was away from Skellin, she’d reasoned, and headed back to the Guild at last. Then something happened that negated all her desire to rush back for news. She’d heard Lorkin’s voice in her mind. And felt hints at what he’d been feeling.
It had been very enlightening.
She’d forgotten how effective a blood ring could be at conveying the mind of the wearer. In a short time she had not only learned that Lorkin was alive, but that he did not fear for his life and was full of hope. Though he was not entirely certain how the people he was with would treat him, in general he respected them and believed they were benevolent. He was smitten with the woman who had rescued him, but the obligation he felt toward her was not entirely based on lust or fondness.
Ah, Lorkin. Why does there always have to be a woman involved?
Lorkin was as safe as she could hope, considering the situation. She’d rather he was home, and she did not like the possibility these Traitors would not let him leave their city, but he had decided to risk that and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
At least he’s a long way from the people who tried to kill him.
She’d got into the cart feeling much better. But before they had travelled far, Forlie had begun to groan and hold her head and stomach. A quick check told Sonea the woman was particularly susceptible to carriage sickness, so they had been forced to tell the driver to slow down.
She wondered if Lorkin had met Dannyl yet. And if Osen was now looking for her, to tell her the good news.
The cart slowed even further. Outside, someone was shouting, and the driver began shouting back. Sonea exchanged a frown with Regin as the vehicle stopped. Forlie began to whimper with fear.
They all jumped as someone began hammering on the side of the cart.
“Black Magician Sonea,” someone called. A young woman, Sonea guessed. “You have to come out. You’ve got the wrong woman.”
Sonea moved to the rear flap of the cart’s cover. She pulled it aside. The street beyond was empty but for a few people in the distance. A knocking came from the side of the cart again.
“I work for Cery,” the woman said. “I—”
“We know she’s the wrong rogue,” Sonea called out. “Cery told us.”
A slim young woman appeared, hurrying around the cart to scowl at Sonea.
“Then … you didn’t … you don’t know …” The girl stopped and took a deep breath. “You’re letting the other rogue go, then?”
Sonea stared at her. “Not if I can help it.”
“Well … I know where the real rogue is. I was watching you and Cery from the roof of one of the other buildings and saw her turn up to do the same. I think she’s still there.”
Regin uttered an oath. Sonea turned to look at him.
“Go,” he said. “I’ll get Forlie to the hospice and come back.”
“But …” But what if the woman has already left? My absence from the hospice might not have been noticed. If it hasn’t, I’ll be able to keep hunting for her. But if I get out of the cart and I’m seen …
“You should go,” she told Regin. “If I go and I’m recognised, the Guild will stop me hunting for h—”
“You must be the one to catch her.” Regin stared at her, his gaze intense and his expression unexpectedly angry. “People need to see you do it. They need to remember that you’re more than a Healer. That restricting you to that is a waste.” He pointed out of the cart. “Go! Before she gets away!”
Sonea stared at him for a moment, then pulled the flap wide and jumped out onto the road. Her coat flared open and the young woman’s eyes widened as she saw the black robes beneath. Sonea took the hint and buttoned the coat up. “What’s your name?”
“Anyi.” The girl straightened. “Follow me.” The girl broke into a jog, heading back toward the old butchery.
“Have you told Cery?” Sonea asked.
The girl shook her head. “I couldn’t find him.”
They moved into a maze of alleys, jogging from shadow to shadow. Sonea realised her heart was beating fast with a strange mix of long-forgotten excitement and something more primal. I’m like a hunter about to catch its prey, she thought. Then she remembered how it had felt to be hounded and frightened, sought by powerful magicians, and she sobered. Still, this woman is no untrained child. Why was she watching us? Did she know about Skellin’s trap?
She must have known about it. How had she found out? Had she sent Forlie in her place? Close to the old butchery, Anyi entered an alleyway. At the far end Sonea could see a busy main road.
“She was on the roof of this building,” she said. “There’s a spot out of sight around here where you can climb up—”
The girl had been about to dive into a small, dead end side alley, but suddenly checked her stride then backed away from the entrance.
“That’s her!” she hissed, pointing.
Her finger pointed upward. Sonea looked up, caught a movement and felt a chill run down her spine. She drew magic and threw up a shield around them. A woman was slowly levitating down into the side alley. She disappeared into the shadows.
“Can you trap her in there?” Anyi asked.
The sound of footsteps suddenly broke out, coming rapidly closer.
“Only one way to find out,” Sonea replied. She looked at Anyi. “Go back. When Regin returns, bring him here. I might need assistance.”
Anyi nodded and raced away. Sonea adjusted her shield to allow the girl out. When she turned back, the woman was about to emerge from the side alley.
Sonea stepped forward and threw up a barrier to block the woman’s way.
Surprise, shock and dismay crossed the woman’s dark face. Then her strange, angular eyes narrowed. A force hammered against the barrier. It was no test strike, but a full blast that was stronger than Sonea expected, and at the same time another strike flashed toward her. The barrier wavered and fell before she had a chance to strengthen it.
The woman dashed out of the dead end alley and ran toward the main road. Sonea ran after her, throwing out another, stronger barrier to envelop her, but the woman smashed this down with a violent blast. A moment later, the rogue was among the people moving up and down the road beyond.
Sonea reached the alley entrance. She saw the woman pause and turn to look at her, well within the flow of traffic. Seeing the distinctive red-brown skin, she knew why Cery had been so sure that Forlie was not the woman he’d seen. As Skellin’s face flashed through Sonea’s memory, she felt a chill run down her spine. Same reddish dark skin. Same strange eyes. This woman is of the same race!
A smile stretched the woman’s lips. A dangerous, triumphant smile.
She thinks I won’t dare use magic with all these people around, and she is right. I also don’t want to risk harming her. Though it would certainly make matters simpler for the Guild if the woman got herself killed.
To deserve that fate, she’d have to do much worse than be a rogue magician working for roet-sellers as a blackmailer. Like killing Cery’s family.
We need her alive to find out if
she’s guilty or knows who is. We also need her alive so we can find out where she came from, and if there are more magicians like her. And find out why she was watching us catch Forlie.
And it would be much harder for Sonea to gain forgiveness for not obeying rules if her disobedience had led to her killing someone.
Sonea drew magic. Lots of magic. She had no idea how long she could hold the woman for. Despite knowing how to take power from magicians and people and even animals, and store it away until needed, Sonea had not done so for over twenty years. She was forbidden to unless ordered to do so by the Higher Magicians.
She was no more powerful than she had been before she had learned black magic. No more powerful than she had been as a novice.
But she had been an exceptionally powerful novice.
With the magic she had gathered, Sonea sent power over the heads of the people passing between her and the rogue, and surrounded the woman in a globe of force. At once the woman began striking in all directions, but though her attacks were powerful, Sonea had expected them to be so, and kept the containment barrier strong. The flash and vibration of magic sent people scattering away from the woman. Sonea shrugged out of the old coat and tossed it aside. When people recovered enough to stop and watch, she did not want them wondering why she had been wearing it.
The black cloth of her robes stirred in a breeze as she stepped out of the alley entrance and walked toward the rogue. She heard exclamations, from either side, where crowds of onlookers were no doubt gathering, but kept her attention on the woman. The rogue snarled and increased her attack on the barrier. Sonea strengthened it further, trying not to worry at how rapidly she was using her reserves of magic.
How long can I keep this up? How long can she keep it up?
A sound broke out from either side. Sonea did not realise what it was at first, then as she did her concentration nearly faltered from amazement.
The crowd was cheering.
Through the sound came a different sort of shout. In the corner of her eye she saw someone approaching. Someone wearing purple.
“Need some help?” a young male voice asked.
An Alchemist. Not one she knew, however.
“Yes,” she said. “Come through.”
Letting him into her barrier, she held out a hand to him.
“Send me your magic.”
“The old-fashioned way?” he asked, surprise in his voice.
She laughed. “Of course. I think we can manage one rogue between us.”
He took her hand, and she felt magic flow into her. She channelled it to the containment barrier. The Alchemist called out, and she realised another magician was approaching. This time a Healer. As the woman took Sonea’s other hand, Sonea almost expected the rogue to give up. But the foreign woman fought on.
Yet her strikes were growing weaker and weaker. Sonea felt an unexpected pity as the woman threw all her strength at the barrier until her attack finally faltered. The rogue’s shoulders drooped. She looked haggard and resigned.
Letting go of her fellow magicians’ hands, Sonea glanced at them.
“Thank you.”
The Alchemist shrugged, and the Healer murmured something like “of course.” Sonea turned her attention back to the rogue. She closed the distance between them, taking slow measured strides. The Alchemist and Healer paced beside her, staying within her shield. The rogue regarded Sonea sullenly as she stopped before her.
“What is your name?” Sonea asked.
The woman did not answer.
“Do you know the law regarding magicians in the Allied Lands? The law that states that all magicians must be a member of the Magicians’ Guild?”
“I know it,” the woman replied.
“Yet here you are, a magician who is not a member of the Guild. Why is that?”
The woman laughed. “I don’t need your Guild. I learned magic long before I came to this land. Why should I bow to you?”
Sonea smiled. “Why indeed?”
The woman glowered.
“So,” Sonea continued. “How long have you lived within the Allied Lands?”
“Too long.” The woman spat on the ground.
“If you don’t like it, why do you stay?”
The woman stared balefully at Sonea.
“What is the name of your homeland?”
The rogue’s lips pressed together stubbornly.
“Well, then.” Sonea brought the barrier around the woman in closer. “Whether you like it or not, the Magicians’ Guild is bound by law to deal with you. We’re taking you to the Guild now.”
Anger contorted the woman’s face and a new blast of power pounded the barrier surrounding her, but it was a weak attack. Sonea considered waiting until the woman tired, then decided against it. She shrank the barrier around the woman, then used it to nudge her to the centre of the road. She began pushing the rogue firmly but gently forward. The Healer and Alchemist fell into step beside her.
And in this way, through streets lined with curious onlookers, they escorted the second rogue found that day to the Guild.
CHAPTER 28
QUESTIONS
The blindfold over Lorkin’s eyes itched, but each of his arms was being held by a Traitor.
“We’re stopping,” one of the women said, gently pulling him to a halt. “Now we’re going up again.”
The other woman let his arm go and he took the opportunity to scratch. He braced himself and felt his stomach lurch as they began to rise. After several heartbeats he felt the unevenness of the ground under his feet again. The woman tugged him into motion.
“Be careful, the ground slopes here. Duck your head.”
He felt a sudden coolness and guessed that they’d moved from sunlight into shadows. That wasn’t all. There was moisture in the air, and a faint smell of rotting vegetation or mould. His guide stopped.
“There’s stairs now, descending. Four of them.”
He found the edge with his toe, then cautiously stepped downward. The steps were wide and shallow, and from the way sounds were echoing he had entered a cave or room. The trickle of water came from a few strides away.
“It’s all flat from here.”
That wasn’t strictly true, he could tell as he walked. The ground was smooth, but there was a definite gradual incline. He listened to the sound of the group’s footsteps, and the flow of water. If they made any turns, they were too large and slow for him to detect.
The sound of wind, vegetation rustling and distant voices came from somewhere ahead. A few more strides and, from the way the noise surrounded him, he knew he was now outside. He felt the warmth of sunlight on his face and a breeze on his skin. He heard someone say Savara’s name.
Without warning, the blindfold was removed and he found himself blinking into the brightness of the midday sun. Before his eyes had adjusted, the Traitor who had been guiding him tugged at his arm, indicating he should continue walking.
Savara led the group, walking along a pathway beside tall, swaying stalks. He realised this was the edge of a crop, the large seed heads peeking out from the topmost leaves. The path ascended steeply and he found himself staring out over a wide valley.
Steep cliff walls rose on either side, meeting at the ends of the valley. Fields filled the floor, each at a different height, like disturbed tiles, but all level. The tiers of green stepped down to a long, narrow lake at the valley’s lowest point. Not one corner wasted, he thought. How else can they feed a whole city of people? But where are the buildings?
A movement up on the nearest cliff wall answered that question. Someone was looking out of a hole in the rock face. A moment later he realised that the entire wall was riddled with holes, from one end of the valley to the other.
A city carved into the rock. He shook his head in wonder.
“It was already here when we found the valley,” a familiar voice said, from beside him.
He looked at Tyvara in surprise. She had barely said a word to him since they’d join
ed Savara’s group.
“Of course, we’ve made it much bigger,” she continued. “A lot of the old part collapsed and had to be replaced sixty years after the first Traitors settled here.”
“How deep does it go?”
“Mostly it’s only one or two rooms deep. Think of it as a city half the size of Arvice, but more elongated, and tipped on its side. We have tremors here now and then, and parts collapse. Though we’ve got a lot better at judging if the rock is safe before making new rooms, then strengthening them with magic, people feel more comfortable living close to the outside.”
“I can understand how they’d come to feel that way.”
He could see, now, that part of the base of the wall was broken by sturdy archways, through which people were entering and leaving the city. Elsewhere there were smaller, more widely spaced openings. The arches suggested a formal, public entrance, and he was not surprised when Savara headed for them.
But not long after, she was forced to stop. A crowd had begun to gather. Many of the people were staring at him. Some were clearly curious, but others looked suspicious. Some were glaring in anger, but not just at him. Their attention was also on Tyvara.
“Murderer!” someone called out, followed by sounds of agreement here and there. But a few people frowned at the accusation, and some even voiced a protest.
“Move out of the way,” Savara ordered, her tone firm but not angry.
The people blocking the path obeyed. Lorkin read respect in their faces when they looked at Savara. She is definitely a Traitor to get on the good side of, he thought, as the group followed their leader to the arches and into the city.
A wide but shallow hall supported by several rows of columns spread before them.
“Speaker Savara,” a voice called. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned safely.”
The voice belonged to a short, round woman, who was walking toward them from the back of the hall. Her words had been spoken in a lofty tone. Savara slowed to meet her.
“Speaker Kalia,” Savara replied. “Have the Table assembled?”
The Ambassador's Mission Page 39