The old magician gave Cery a withering look, then regarded Akkarin again. “If we encourage these volunteers to stay in one place—a safehouse with comfortable beds and a generous supply of food—they will recover their strength and you will be able to increase your power again tomorrow.”
Akkarin stared at the magician, then nodded. “Thank you, Senfel.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Senfel replied. “They may take one look at me and run.”
Sevli chuckled. “You might have to try being charming for once, Senfel.” He ignored the old man’s glare, and looked around the circle. “Now that we know the nature of these Ichani, I can see the suggestions I was going to make for fighting them will not work. We should keep out of the way as much as possible.”
“Yes,” Faren agreed. “And warn the dwells to keep out of sight, too.”
“Better still,” Ravi said, “bring the dwells into the passages. It will be a tight squeeze, and the air might get a bit thin, but,” he glanced up at Senfel, “magicians’ battles don’t take long, from what I’m told.”
“So how are we going to lure an Ichani away from the main group?” Zill asked.
“I hear Limek has a good tailor,” Cery said, giving the bushy-haired Thief a meaningful look.
“Fancy yourself in robes?” the man said in a deep voice.
“Oh, they’d never believe a magician could be so short,” Faren scoffed.
“Hai!” Cery protested. He pointed at Sonea. “There are short magicians.”
Faren nodded. “I suppose you might be convincing in novices’ robes.”
Sonea felt something brush against her arm, and looked down to find Akkarin’s fingers lightly touching her skin.
—These people are braver than I thought, he sent. They appear to understand how dangerous and powerful the Ichani are, yet they are still willing to fight them.
Sonea smiled and sent him a fleeting image of dwells throwing stones at magicians during the Purge, then of the sewer system that had enabled Cery to bring them into the city.
—Why wouldn’t they? They’ve been fighting and outwitting magicians for years.
32
A Gift
Something was tickling Rothen’s nostril. He snorted, then opened his eyes.
He was lying face down on dried grass. As he rolled over, he felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder. Memories of the previous night rushed back: the carts arriving, the young Warrior cornered by an Ichani, Lord Yikmo at the window of the house, blasting the carts, Kariko, the blood gem, hurrying away…
Looking around, he saw that he was in a barn. From the angle of the beams of light streaming between the slats of wood, it was close to midday.
As he pushed himself into a sitting position, he felt a stronger twinge of pain. He slipped a hand under his robes and touched his shoulder. It sat a little higher than it should. Closing his eyes, he sent his mind inward and regarded his shoulder with dismay. As he had slept, his body had used his returning powers to begin Healing the broken bones in his arm and shoulder. But something wasn’t quite right.
He sighed. Unconscious self-Healing was a benefit of being a magician, but it wasn’t a reliable reflex. The bones had set themselves at twisted, crooked angles. An experienced Healer could break and set them again, but for now he would have to put up with discomfort and restricted movement.
Standing up brought a short spell of dizziness, and hunger. He walked to the door of the barn and peered out. Houses surrounded the barn, but all was silent. The building closest to him looked familiar. He felt a chill as he realized it was the house where he had faced Kariko.
He felt a strong reluctance to leave the protection of the barn. The Sachakans might still be in the village, looking for replacement vehicles. He should wait until nightfall, then slip away under the cover of darkness.
Then he saw the magician lying by the back door of the house. There had been no body there the night before. It could only be one magician: Lord Yikmo.
Rothen stepped into the sunlight and hurried to the red-robed figure. He grasped Yikmo’s shoulders and rolled him over. The magician’s eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.
Streaks of blood had dried on the Warrior’s chin. His robes were torn and covered in dust. Thinking back, Rothen recalled the moment when the front of the house had exploded inward. He had assumed that Yikmo had escaped. Instead, it seemed he had been fatally injured by the blast.
Rothen shook his head. Yikmo had been respected and admired in the Guild. Though he hadn’t been strong magically, his sharp mind and ability to teach novices with learning difficulties had gained him the high regard of both Balkan and Akkarin.
Which was why Akkarin chose him as Sonea’s teacher, Rothen thought. She liked Yikmo, I think. She’ll be upset when she hears of his death.
As would the rest of the Guild. He considered communicating the news, but something made him hesitate. The Guild must know, from the silence following the battle, that all had perished. The Sachakans could not be sure. Best not tell them anything they don’t already know, he thought.
Getting to his feet, Rothen turned to the house. He entered cautiously and approached the front room. A gaping hole opened onto the road. The shattered remains of two carts formed two piles in the center of the thoroughfare.
They’ve gone.
Three bodies lay among the mess. Rothen looked closely at the houses on either side, then cautiously stepped out.
“Magician!”
Rothen spun around, then relaxed as a teenage boy ran toward him. He remembered the boy from the evacuation of the village. It had taken some firm words from Yikmo to dissuade the youngster from hanging about to watch the fight.
“What are you doing here?” Rothen asked.
The boy stopped, and the unpracticed bow he gave was almost comically awkward. “Came back to see what happened, my lord,” he replied. His eyes strayed to the carts. “That the enemy?”
Rothen moved to the bodies and examined them. All were Sachakan. He noted the numerous scars on their arms. “Slaves,” he said. He looked closer. “Looks like they were injured when we struck the carts. They’re bad wounds, but nothing that couldn’t have been Healed, and nothing that would have killed them quickly.”
“You think the Sachakans killed their own people?”
“Maybe.” Rothen straightened and looked from one dead Sachakan to another. “Yes. Those cuts on their wrists aren’t from splinters of wood.”
“I guess they didn’t want their slaves slowing them down,” the boy said.
“Have you looked around the village?” Rothen asked.
The boy nodded.
“Seen any other Guild magicians?”
The boy nodded again, then lowered his eyes. “All dead, though.”
Rothen sighed. “Are there any horses left?”
The boy grinned. “Not here, but I can get you one. My da trains racehorses for House Arran. The estate isn’t far away. I can run there and back in half an hour.”
“Then go fetch a horse.” Rothen looked around at the houses. “And some men to take care of the bodies, too.”
“Where you want them put? In the Calia cemetery?”
A cemetery. Rothen thought of the mysterious cemetery in the forest behind the Guild, then of Akkarin’s claims that black magic had been in common use before it was banned. Suddenly the reason for the existence of the graves was all too clear.
“For now,” Rothen replied. “I will stay to identify them, then ride to the city.”
Like so many of the people before her, the woman who entered the room hesitated when she saw Sonea.
“I know, the veil’s a bit much,” Sonea said, speaking with the slum accent. “They say I got to wear this so nobody know who the Thieves’ magicians are.” The veil had been Takan’s idea. Wearing it meant that even the hundred or so potential magicians she took power from would not see her. Akkarin, who was meeting people in another room, was wearing a mask.
“Sonea?
” the woman whispered.
Sonea felt a stab of alarm. She looked closer, then pulled the veil off as she recognized the woman.
“Jonna!”
Sonea hurried around the table and hugged her aunt tightly.
“It’s really you,” Jonna said, leaning back to stare at Sonea. “I thought the Guild sent you away.”
“They did.” Sonea grinned. “I came back. We can’t let these Sachakans make a mess of our city, can we?”
Different emotions crossed the woman’s face. Concern and fear were followed by a crooked smile. “You sure know how to get yourself into a lot of rub.” She looked around the room. “They made me wait for hours. I thought I’d be cooking or something, but they told me I had some sort of magical ability, and I should help their magician.”
“Really?” Sonea ushered her aunt to the chair, then moved back to her own seat on the other side of the table. “I must get my abilities from my mother’s side, then. Give me your hand.”
Jonna offered her hand. Sonea took it and sent out her senses. She detected a small source of power. “Not much. That’s why they made you wait. How’s Ranel and my little cousins?”
“Kerrel’s growing fast. Hania’s a crier, but I keep telling myself she’ll grow out of it soon. If Ranel knew you were here, he would have come, but he thought he’d be no use because of his limp.”
“I’d love to see him. Perhaps after all this…I’m going to make a little cut on the back of your hand, if that’s okay with you.”
Jonna’s shoulders lifted. Sonea opened a box on the table and brought out the tiny knife that Cery had given her. He had reasoned that a small blade wouldn’t frighten the dwells as much as a larger one. This one was so tiny, it had earned a few laughs.
Sonea nicked the back of Jonna’s hand with the knife, then laid a finger over the cut. Like all the previous dwells, Jonna relaxed as Sonea drew energy from her. When Sonea stopped and healed the cut, the woman straightened.
“That felt…very strange,” Jonna said. “I couldn’t move, but I felt so sleepy that I didn’t want to.”
Sonea nodded. “That’s what most people say it’s like. I’m not sure I could do it if I knew it was unpleasant. Now, tell me what you and Ranel have been doing lately.”
The problems Jonna related seemed wonderfully simple and ordinary. Sonea listened, then told her aunt of everything that had happened since their last meeting, including some of her doubts and fears. At the end of the story, Jonna regarded her speculatively.
“It’s hard to believe that the quiet little child I had to raise has grown into such an important person,” she said. “And you with this Akkarin, the High Lord of the Guild and all.”
“He isn’t any more,” Sonea reminded her.
Jonna waved a hand. “Even so. How sure of him are you? Do you think you’ll marry?”
Sonea felt her face heat. “I…I don’t know. I…”
“Would you agree?”
Marriage? Sonea hesitated, then slowly nodded.
“But you haven’t talked about it, have you?” Jonna frowned leaned forward. “You are being careful?” she murmured.
“There are…” Sonea swallowed. “I know there are ways, with magic, of being sure a woman doesn’t…It’s one of the advantages of being a magician. Akkarin wouldn’t want that.” She felt her face grow hotter. “Not now, anyway. It wouldn’t be wise, with all the fighting.”
Jonna nodded and patted Sonea’s hand. “Of course. Perhaps later, then. When all this is over.”
Sonea smiled. “Yes. And when I’m ready. Which wouldn’t be straightaway.”
The woman sighed. “It’s good to see you, Sonea. It’s such a relief knowing you’re back.” She sobered. “But it isn’t, too. I wish you were somewhere far away and safe. I wish you didn’t have to fight these Sachakans. You…you will be careful?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t try anything foolish.”
“I won’t. I don’t much like the idea of dying, Jonna. That’s a strong deterrent against foolishness.”
A knock at the door interrupted them.
“Yes?” Sonea called.
The door opened, and Cery slipped inside carrying a large sack. He was grinning widely.
“Catching up?” he said.
“Did you arrange this?” Sonea asked.
“I might have,” Cery replied slyly.
“Thank you.”
He shrugged. Jonna rose. “It’s late. I must get back to my family,” she said. “I’ve been gone too long already.”
Sonea stood and stepped around the table to hug her aunt again. “Take care of yourself,” she said. “Give Ranel a kiss for me. And tell him not to say anything about us being here. Not to anyone.”
Jonna nodded, then turned away and left the room.
“That was the last of them,” Cery said. “I’ll take you back to your rooms.”
“What about Akkarin?”
“He’s waiting for you there. Come on.”
Moving to a door at the back of the room, he led her out into a corridor. At the end of it they entered a small cupboard. Cery untied a rope hanging from a hole in the roof and as he let it slip through his hands, the floor of the cupboard slowly descended.
“You make a good pair,” Cery said.
Sonea turned to frown at him. “Me and Jonna?”
He grinned and shook his head. “You and Akkarin.”
“You think so?”
“I hope so. I’m not sure I like him getting you into all this rub, but he seems just as worried about you surviving it as I am.”
The floor stopped before another door. Cery pushed it open and they stepped into a familiar passage. A few steps later, they were passing the large metal door to his guest rooms. Akkarin sat before a table laden with plates of fresh food, a glass of wine in his hand. Beside him sat Takan.
Akkarin looked up at Sonea and smiled. She noticed that Takan was regarding her closely, and began to wonder what they had been talking about before she arrived.
“Ceryni,” Akkarin said. “Once again, you’ve provided for us generously.” He lifted his glass. “Anuren dark, no less.”
Cery shrugged. “No expense spared for the city’s defenders.”
Sonea sat down and began eating. Though she was hungry, the food sat like stones in her belly and she soon lost her appetite when they began discussing their plans for tomorrow. They had not been talking long before Akkarin stopped and looked at her closely.
“Your power is detectable,” he said quietly. “I need to teach you to hide it.”
Akkarin held out his hand. As she took it, she felt his presence grow strong at the edge of her mind. She closed her eyes.
—This is what I can sense.
At once she felt the power within him radiating out, like a glowing mist.
—I see it.
—You’re letting power leak through the barrier that surrounds your natural area of magical influence. You need to strengthen the barrier. Like this.
The glow faded to nothing. Concentrating on her own body, she sensed the store of power within her. She hadn’t had the opportunity to consider how much strength she had gained from the dwells. She had tried to keep track of the volunteers, but lost count after thirty.
Now she marvelled at the immense power she held, contained by the barrier at her skin. But that barrier was only strong enough to contain her natural level of power. She must use some of the extra magic to strengthen it. Concentrating, she began sending a steady trickle of power to the barrier.
—That’s it.
Instead of retreating, Akkarin’s mind lingered.
—Look at me.
She opened her eyes. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized she could see and sense him at the same time. His expression was the thoughtful one he always wore when she caught him watching her…and now she knew with certainty what he was thinking of at those times. She felt her face flush, and the corner of his mouth curled upward.
Then his mind faded and he let her hand go. When he looked away, she felt a vague disappointment.
“We should make blood gems for each other. There will be times we’ll need to be able to communicate privately in the next few days.”
Blood gems. Her disappointment faded and was replaced by interest.
“We need some glass.” He looked at Takan. The servant rose and entered the kitchen, then returned and shook his head.
“Nothing there…”
Akkarin picked up a wineglass, then glanced at Cery. “Do you mind if I break this?”
Cery shrugged. “No. Smash away.”
The glass shattered as Akkarin struck it against the table. He picked up a sliver and handed it to Sonea, then took one for himself. Cery watched, clearly bursting with curiosity.
Together, Sonea and Akkarin melted the glass fragments into tiny spheres. Akkarin took another sliver of glass and cut his palm. Sonea did the same. Once more he held her hand and she sensed his mind touch hers. She followed his instructions on how to apply the blood and magic to the hot glass.
When the gems had cooled, Takan set a small square of gold on the table. It rose and hovered before Akkarin’s face, then curled and twisted into two rings. As Akkarin dropped his blood gem into the setting of one ring, Sonea placed hers in the other. She noted how the gem protruded from the inner side of the band, allowing it to touch the skin of the wearer.
The gold claws of the settings closed over the gems. Akkarin plucked the two rings out of the air, holding them by their bands, then turned to regard Sonea solemnly.
“With these rings, we will be able to see into each others’ minds. This has some…disadvantages. Sometimes, hearing and knowing exactly how another person regards you can be an unpleasant experience. It can end friendships, turn love to resentment, and destroy self-regard.” He paused. “But it can also deepen understanding. We should not wear these any more than we must.”
Sonea took his ring and considered his words. Turn love to resentment? But he had never said he loved her. She thought of Jonna’s words. “But you haven’t talked about it, have you?”
We haven’t needed to, she told herself. Just the occasional fleeting glimpse of his thoughts has been enough.
Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 03] - The High Lord Page 44