Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 03] - The High Lord

by Trudi Canavan

  Then blood welled from the cut and a sharp ache began to nag at her senses. She let the blood drip into the bowl.

  “Heal yourself,” Akkarin instructed. “Always heal yourself without delay. Even half-healed cuts are a break in your barrier.”

  She concentrated on the wound. The blood stopped flowing, then the edges of the cut slowly sealed together. Akkarin handed her the cloth, and she wiped the blood off her hand.

  Akkarin handed her a piece of glass. “Hold this in the air and melt it. It will keep its shape easier if you set it spinning.”

  Sonea focused her will on the fragment of glass and lifted it up. She sent heat around it and willed it to spin. It began to glow around the edges, then slowly shrank into a globule.

  “At last!” Akkarin hissed.

  Startled, she lost her hold on the globule. It dropped to the table, where it made a small scorch mark.

  “Oops.”

  Akkarin hadn’t noticed, however. His eyes were focused far beyond the room. As she watched, his gaze sharpened. He smiled grimly, then picked up the knife.

  “Takan has just received a message. The Thieves have found the spy.”

  Sonea’s heart skipped.

  “Your lesson will have to wait until we return.” Moving to a cupboard, Akkarin took out the leather belt with the knife sheath she had seen him wearing the night she had spied upon him, so long ago. He wiped the blade of his knife on the cloth, and slipped it into the sheath. Sonea blinked in surprise as he then untied the sash of his robes and removed the outer garment. Beneath it he wore a black vest.

  He strapped the belt about his waist, then moved to another cupboard and took out a long, worn-looking coat for himself, a cloak for Sonea, and a lantern.

  “Keep your robes well covered,” he said as she donned the cloak. It had many small buttons down the front, and two side openings for her hands.

  He paused to regard her, and frowned.

  “I would not take you with me if I could avoid it, but if I am to prepare you to face these spies, I must show you how it may be done. You must do exactly as I instruct.”

  She nodded. “Yes, High Lord.”

  Akkarin moved to the wall and the hidden door to the passages opened. Sonea followed him through. The lantern spluttered alight.

  “We must not let this woman see you,” he told her as he started down the passage. “Tavaka’s master probably saw you through his gem before I destroyed it. If any of the Ichani see you with me again, they will guess I am training you. They will try to kill you while you are too weak and unskilled to defend yourself.”

  He fell silent as they reached the first barrier, and did not speak again until they had navigated the maze of passages and reached the blocked tunnel. Akkarin gestured at the rubble.

  “Have a good look with your mind, then shift the stairs into place.”

  Extending her senses, Sonea examined the arrangement of rocks. At first it appeared to be a random jumble, then she began to see a pattern in them. It was like a large version of the wooden puzzles sold in the markets. Push on one particular spot, and the puzzle pieces slid against each other to form a new shape—or fell apart. She drew a little magic and began shifting the rocks. The passage filled with the sound of stone sliding against stone as the stairs moved into place.

  “Well done,” Akkarin murmured. He strode forward, taking the stairs two at a time. Sonea followed him up. At the top, she turned and willed the rock slabs back into their former positions.

  The light of the lantern illuminated the familiar brick walls of the Thieves’ Road. Akkarin started forward. After several hundred paces they reached the place where the guide had met them before. A smaller shadow stepped out to greet them.

  The boy was about twelve, Sonea guessed. His eyes were hard and wary, however—the eyes of a much older person. He stared at them both, then looked down at Akkarin’s boots and nodded. Without a word, he indicated that they should follow him and started down the passages.

  Though their path wound about from time to time, it took them in one general direction. Their guide finally stopped beside a ladder and pointed up to a trapdoor. Akkarin shuttered the lamp and the passage filled with darkness. Sonea heard him set a boot on the rungs of the ladder and begin to climb. Faint light filled the passage as he lifted the trapdoor cautiously and peered out. He beckoned to her and, as she started up the ladder, opened the trapdoor fully and climbed out.

  Following, Sonea found herself in an alley. The houses around her were roughly made from all kinds of scavenged materials. Some looked as if they might fall down at any moment. The smell of garbage and sewage was powerful. She felt a long-forgotten sympathy and wariness. This was the outer edge of the slums, where the poorest dwells scratched an existence. It was a sad and dangerous place.

  A heavily built man stepped out of a nearby doorway and strolled toward them. Sonea let out a small sigh of relief as she recognized him as the man who had been guarding the previous spy. He stared at her, then turned to Akkarin.

  “She just left,” the man said. “We’ve been tagging her for two hours. The locals say she’s been minding herself away down in there for two nights.” He pointed toward a nearby door.

  “How do you know she’ll come back tonight?” Akkarin asked.

  “Had a look at the place after she left. She got some stuff down there. She’ll be back.”

  “The rest of the place is empty?”

  “A few beggars and whores use it, but we told them to get busy for the night.”

  Akkarin nodded. “We’ll have a look inside and see if it is a suitable place for an ambush. Make sure no one comes in.”

  The man nodded. “Hers is the last room on the right.”

  Sonea followed Akkarin to the door. It squeaked in protest as he pulled it open. They descended crumbling steps of compacted dirt supported by rotting beams of wood, and started along a corridor.

  It was dark inside, and the earth floor was uneven. Akkarin opened the shutter of his lamp just enough to light the way. The openings into the rooms had no doors. Some were covered with rough sacking material. The walls were lined with wood, but planks had fallen away here and there and the dirt behind them had formed mounds on the floor.

  Most of the rooms were empty. The last entrance on the right was covered with sacking. Akkarin stared at the covering intently, then pushed it aside and opened the shutter of the lamp.

  The room inside was surprisingly large. A few wooden crates and a warped plank formed a table. A shelf had been carved along one side of the room, and in one corner was a thin mattress and some blankets.

  Akkarin began to walk around the room, examining everything closely. He looked through the bedding, then shook his head.

  “Morren spoke of valuables. Surely he didn’t mean this.”

  Sonea smothered a smile. She walked over to the nearest wall and began to poke her finger between each of the boards. Akkarin watched as she made her way around the room. Near the bedding she felt a tell-tale sponginess.

  The planks came away easily. The sacking that lay behind them was caked with dried mud, but here and there a thread showed. She carefully lifted a corner. Inside was an alcove large enough for a child to sit in, its roof supported by more rotting wooden planks. A small bundle of cloth lay at the center.

  Akkarin moved to her side and chuckled. “Well, well. You have proven to be useful.”

  Sonea shrugged. “I lived in a place like this, once. Dwells call them Holes.”

  He paused. “For long?”

  She looked up to find him regarding her appraisingly.

  “For a winter. It was a long time ago, when I was very small.” She turned back to the alcove. “I remember it was crowded, and cold.”

  “But there are few people living here now. Why is that?”

  “The Purge. It doesn’t happen until the first snows of the year. This is where all those people the Guild drives out of the city go to. The ones the Houses say are dangerous thieves, wh
en the truth is they just don’t like ugly beggars and cripples making the city look shabby, and the real Thieves aren’t inconvenienced by the Purge—”

  From behind them came the faint, distant squeak of a door. Akkarin spun about.

  “It’s her.”

  “How do you—”

  “Morren would have stopped anyone else.” He snapped the shutter of the lamp mostly shut and looked quickly around the room. “No other way out,” he muttered. He lifted the corner of the sacking covering the alcove. “Can you fit in there?”

  She didn’t bother replying. Turning, she sat on the edge of the alcove and pushed herself backward. As she folded her legs into the small space, Akkarin let the sacking fall and pressed the boards back into place.

  Complete darkness followed. The pounding of her heart was loud in the silence. Then Sonea suddenly found herself staring at lines of bright stars.

  “You again,” a woman said in a strangely accented voice. “I wondered when you would give me another chance to kill you.”

  The stars brightened and Sonea felt the vibration of magic. Realizing that the points of light were holes in the mud-soaked sacking, Sonea leaned forward, hoping to see into the room beyond.

  “You came prepared,” the woman observed.

  “Of course,” Akkarin said.

  “I have, too,” she said. “Your dirty city is a bit smaller now. And your Guild will soon be another man less.”

  In one place, where the dried mud coating the sacking was thin and crumbling, Sonea could see moving shapes illuminated by flashes of light. She scratched at the sacking to unclog more of the cloth’s rough weave.

  “What will your Guild think when its ruler is found dead? Will they work out what killed him? I think not.”

  Sonea could make out a figure now. A woman in a dull-colored shirt and trousers stood on one side of the room. Sonea couldn’t see Akkarin, however. She continued scratching at the mud coating of the sacking, trying to get a better view. How was she going to learn anything about fighting these spies, if she couldn’t see the battle?

  “They won’t know what’s hunting them,” the Sachakan continued. “I was thinking of walking in and taking them all at once, but now I think it’ll be more fun to lure them out and kill them one by one.”

  “I recommend the latter,” Akkarin replied. “You’ll not get far, otherwise.”

  The woman laughed. “Won’t I?” she sneered. “But I know Kariko is right. Your Guild doesn’t know higher magic. They are weak and stupid—so stupid that you must hide from them what you know or they would kill you.”

  The room flared with light as strikes pounded at the woman’s shield. The woman responded in kind. A creaking sound came from above. Sonea saw the woman glance up, then step sideways, toward the alcove.

  “Just because we do not abuse our knowledge of magic, does not mean we are ignorant,” Akkarin said calmly. He moved into sight, maintaining a position opposite the woman.

  “But I have seen the truth in the minds of your people,” the woman replied. “I know this is why you chase me alone—why you cannot let anyone see us fighting. Let them see this, then.”

  Suddenly the room filled with the deafening crack of splintering wood. A shower of wooden beams and roofing tiles fell down from the roof, filling the air with dust. The woman laughed and moved closer to the alcove and Sonea.

  Then she stopped as another fall sent rubble down blocking her path. The Sachakan was suddenly thrown back against the side wall. Sonea felt the impact of Akkarin’s forcestrike through the floor of the alcove, and a shower of dirt pattered onto her back.

  The woman pushed herself away from the wall, snarled something, then strode toward the rubble…and through it. Sonea blinked in surprise as she realized it had been an illusion, then her heart skipped as she saw that the woman was walking straight toward her.

  Akkarin attacked, forcing the woman to slow. As the woman stopped in front of her hidden store, Sonea found herself facing Akkarin’s attack. Disturbed, she hastily put up a strong shield around herself.

  The room vibrated as the two magicians struck at each other. More dirt trickled down Sonea’s back. Reaching up, she felt the beams holding up the roof of the alcove beginning to split and sag. Alarmed, she expanded her shield to give them support.

  A laugh brought her attention back to the room. Peering through the sacking, she saw that Akkarin was backing away. His strikes didn’t seem to be as strong. He took a sideways step toward the door.

  He’s losing strength, she realized suddenly. Her stomach sank as he edged closer to the door.

  “You’re not getting away from me this time,” the woman said.

  A barrier filled the doorway. Akkarin’s expression darkened. The woman seemed to grow straighter and taller. Instead of advancing, she took a few steps backward and turned toward Sonea.

  Watching Akkarin, Sonea saw his expression change to dismay and alarm. The woman reached out toward the alcove, then stopped as he threw a powerful strike at her.

  He was faking, Sonea thought suddenly. He was trying to draw her away from me. But instead of following him, the woman had approached the alcove. Why? Does she know I’m here? Or is it something else?

  Feeling around, Sonea found the bundle of cloth. Even in the dark she could tell that the material was of good quality.

  She created a tiny, faint globe light. Unravelling the bundle, Sonea saw that it was a woman’s shawl. As she lifted it, a small object fell out of the folds. A silver ring.

  She picked it up. It was a man’s ring, the kind that the elders of a House wore to indicate their status. A flat square on one side of it bore the incal of House Saril.

  Then the alcove exploded into a storm of dirt and noise.

  Sonea felt herself thrown backward. Curling into a ball, she concentrated on holding her shield around her. The weight pushing down on it increased, then became constant.

  Then all was still. Opening her eyes, she created another tiny globe light. All about her was earth. Her shield was holding it back, forming a spherical hollow around her. She uncurled, rolled into a crouch and considered her situation.

  She was buried. Though she could hold the shield for some time, the air within it would not last long. It would not be hard to push her way out. Once she did, however, she would no longer be hidden.

  So I should stay here as long as possible, she decided. I won’t get to see any more of the fight, but that can’t be helped.

  Thinking back on what she’d witnessed, she shook her head. The battle had been nothing like Akkarin had predicted. The woman was stronger than the usual spy. Her attitude was not like that of a slave, and she had referred to the Ichani as “us” not “my masters,” as the previous spy had. She was skilled in fighting. The former slaves sent into Kyralia had no time to gain any fighting skills.

  If this woman was no slave, then, there was only one other thing she could be.

  Ichani.

  Sonea’s stomach clenched at the realization. Akkarin was fighting an Ichani. She concentrated and found she could feel the vibration of their magic somewhere near. The battle was still raging.

  The pressure on her shield began to ease. Looking up, she saw a small hole appear where the soil was falling away from her shield. As she watched, it enlarged as more dirt slipped away.

  A view of the room began to emerge. She straightened, and caught her breath in horror. The Sachakan woman was standing only a few steps away.

  Alarmed, Sonea reduced the size of her shield, but this only sent the dirt cascading down faster. As it did, Akkarin came into view. His eyes flickered to hers once, but his expression did not change. He started to move forward.

  Sonea crouched within her shield, helplessly watching the Sachakan woman’s back as the dirt continued to fall away. She dared not move in case the woman heard something and turned around. The Sachakan took a step backward as Akkarin drew closer. Her body was stiff with concentration.

  Sonea felt Akkarin�
��s magic brush her shield as he encircled the woman with a barrier and tried to drag her forward. But the woman broke his hold and took another step back. As her shield drew closer, Sonea pulled her own inward to avoid contact. The woman’s shield now buzzed within a hand’s span of Sonea. Another step, and the woman would discover her.

  If she detects me, Sonea thought. If I stop shielding, her shield might slide over me without her noticing.

  The woman’s shield was a globe, which was the easiest shape to hold. A globe-shaped shield protected a magician’s feet by dipping under the ground a little, but for a shield to be strong enough to hold back a subterranean attack, it couldn’t move through the ground. All novices learned to weaken the part of their shield that overlapped an obstacle or the ground as they moved, then strengthen it as soon as they were still again.

  If this woman had the same habit, she might allow her shield to slide over Sonea—thinking Sonea was merely an obstacle—when she moved back again.

  But she will notice. She will sense my presence.

  Sonea caught her breath. But I’ll be inside her shield! For a moment, before she realizes what has happened, she’ll be defenseless. I just need something to…

  Sonea’s eyes slid to the ground. A sliver of wood from the alcove lay half buried nearby. As she contemplated what she intended to do, her heart raced even faster. She drew in a deep, quiet breath and waited for the woman to step backward again. She did not have to wait long.

  As the shield passed over her, Sonea grabbed the piece of wood, stood up and slashed it across the back of the woman’s neck. The woman began to turn, but Sonea had anticipated that. She pressed her other hand against the wound and focused all her will into drawing energy into herself as fast as she could.

  The woman’s eyes widened in horrified realization. Her shield disappeared and her knees buckled. Sonea nearly lost her grip, and quickly wound her free arm around the woman’s waist. The Sachakan was too heavy, however, and Sonea let the woman sink to the ground.