Black Magician 03 - The High Lord

by Trudi Canavan

  Akkarin's eyebrows rose. Then Takan let out a bark of laughter.

  "I like this one, master," he said. "You chose well when you took on her guardianship."

  Akkarin snorted quietly and uncrossed his arms. "You know very well I didn't choose anything, Takan." He approached the table and regarded the items on it.

  "Now, Sonea, I want you to examine each of these living things on the table and consider how the skill I have taught you may be applied to them. Then I have some more books for you to read."

  12

  The Price of Keeping Deadly Secrets

  Rising from his bed, Rothen slid aside one of his window screens and sighed. A faint light brightened one side of the sky. Dawn was close, and he was wide awake already.

  He looked at the High Lord's Residence lurking at the edge of the forest. Soon Sonea would rise and make her way to the Baths.

  He had watched her closely over the last week. Though he hadn't seen her with Akkarin again, something in her manner had definitely changed.

  There was a new confidence in the way she walked. At midbreak, she would sit in the garden and study, giving him an opportunity to watch her from the University windows. During the last week she had been easily distracted. She would often stop and look around at the Guild with a frown of concern or worry. Occasionally she would stare at nothing, her expression grim. At these times she looked so grown up he barely recognized her.

  But it was when she gazed at the High Lord's Residence that she gave him the most reason to fear. There was such a thoughtful look on her face at these times, but it was what was lacking in her expression that scared him most. There was no dislike or fear in it.

  He shivered. How could she regard Akkarin's house without showing at least some discomfort? She had before. Why not now?

  Rothen drummed his fingers on the windowsill. For a year and a half he had obeyed Akkarin's order to stay away from

  Sonea. The only times he had spoken to her had been in situations where, because others were watching, it would have seemed strange if he didn't.

  I've been cooperative for so long. Surely he won't harm her if I try to speak to her alone just once.

  The sky was a little lighter now. The gardens were growing clearer. All he had to do was go down there and catch her on the way to the Baths.

  He turned from the window and began to dress. Only when he reached his door did he pause and reconsider. A few questions, he thought. That's all He probably won't even notice us.

  The Magicians' Quarters corridor was empty and silent. Rothen's boots rapped out a quick rhythm as he hurried down the stairs to the exit. He entered the courtyard and turned toward the gardens.

  He chose to wait in one of the little garden rooms next to the main path. It was well hidden from the High Lord's Residence. Most of the garden was visible from the top floor of the University, but it was too early for any magicians to be roaming about up there.

  Half an hour later he heard light footsteps approaching. He glimpsed her through the trees and sighed in relief. She was late, but was still following her routine. Then his heart began to race. What if she refused to talk to him? He rose and reached the entrance of the garden room just as she passed the entrance.

  "Sonea."

  She jumped, then turned to stare at him.

  "Rothen!" she whispered. "What are you doing out here this early in the morning?"

  "Trying to catch you, of course."

  She almost smiled, then a familiar wariness returned to her expression and she glanced up at the University.

  "Why?"

  "I want to know how you're getting along."

  Her shoulders lifted. "Well enough. It's been a long time. I've got used to it—and good at avoiding him."

  "You spend every evening there now."

  Her gaze wavered. "Yes." She hesitated, then smiled faintly. "It's good to know you're keeping an eye on me, Rothen."

  "Not as closely as I'd like." Rothen took a deep breath. "I have to ask you something. Is he ... has he made you do anything you don't want to, Sonea?"

  She blinked, then frowned and looked down. "No. Other than becoming his favorite and studying so hard."

  He waited until she looked up to meet his gaze again. There was something about the way her mouth was set that was familiar. It had been so long, but it reminded him how she . ..

  ... how she almost smiles when she's telling the truth, but knows it's not the full truth!

  He quickly reconsidered his question. "Has he asked you to do anything I would not want you to?"

  Her mouth quirked up at one corner again. "No, Rothen. He hasn't."

  Rothen nodded, though her answer hadn't reassured him. He could not keep reshaping his question over and over. Perhaps Ezrille is right, he thought. Perhaps I am worrying too much.

  Sonea smiled sadly. "I keep waiting for something bad to happen, too," she said, "but every day I'm learning more. If it ever comes to a fight, I won't be that easy to defeat." She glanced in the direction of the High Lord's Residence, then took a step away from him. "But let's not give anyone reason to start one yet."

  "No," he agreed. "Be careful, Sonea."

  "I will." She turned to walk away, then hesitated and looked over her shoulder. "You take care of yourself too, Rothen. Don't worry about me. Well, don't worry too much anyway."

  He managed a smile. Watching her walk away, he shook his head and sighed. She asked the impossible.

  Reaching the center of the Arena, Sonea noted the low position of the sun. It had been a long day, but soon classes would be over. Just this last bout to go.

  She waited as the novices Balkan had chosen took their places. A ring of twelve formed around her, like the points of a compass. She turned a full circle, meeting the eyes of each in turn. They returned her stare confidently, no doubt reassured by their numbers. She wished she was feeling as sure of herself. Her adversaries were all from Fourth and Fifth Year classes, and most of them favored the Warrior Skills discipline.

  "Begin," Balkan called.

  All twelve novices attacked at once. Sonea threw up a strong shield and sent out a spray of forcestrikes in return. The novices combined their shields into one.

  This would not happen if they were Ichani. She frowned as she remembered Akkarin's lessons.

  "The Ichani don't fight well together. They have battled and distrusted each other for years. Few know how to channel power to another, to construct a barrier with the power of several magicians, or to fight cooperatively."

  Hopefully, she would never have to fight any Ichani. She would only need to face their spies, and then only if Akkarin died. Unless this latest one—the woman—was an Ichani. But Akkarin would deal with her.

  "These spies have a deep fear of Guild magicians, despite what Kariko tells them. When they kill, it is carefully planned and carried out so that they do not attract the Guild's attention. They strengthen themselves slowly. If you face one, and you are prepared, you should be able to defeat him quickly and quietly."

  The novices increased their attack, forcing Sonea to concentrate on the fight again. She fought back. Individually, they were no match for her. Together they could eventually defeat her. But she had only to strike the inner shield of one novice to win the bout.

  There was far more at stake than her pride. She had to win, and quickly, in order to save her strength.

  Every night for the last week she had been giving Akkarin most of her strength. Talk of the murders in the city increased as new victims were found every day. It was difficult to say how much strength the Sachakan woman had recov-

  ered in that time. Akkarin, however, had only Sonea and Takan to take energy from each night.

  She must not exhaust herself in this fight.

  That was not going to be easy, however. Her adversaries were obviously well practiced at combining shields. She remembered the first attempts her own class had made at this sort of fighting. Until they all learned the proper responses to different kinds of a
ttacks, and learned to act as one, it was easy to become confused.

  So I should do something unexpected to confuse them. Something they 've never encountered before.

  Like what she had done the night Regin and his friends had attacked her in the forest, so long ago. She couldn't effectively dazzle these novices with a bright light during the day, however. But if she did something similar so they didn't know where she was, she could sneak behind someone and. . .

  She smothered a smile. Her shield didn't have to be transparent.

  It took only a shift in her will for her shield to become a globe of white light. The disadvantage of this, she realized belatedly, was that she couldn't see them either.

  Now for the deception. Creating several more shields like her first, she sent them out in different directions. At the same time she began walking, taking one shield with her.

  She felt the novices' attack falter, and had to cover her mouth to stop herself laughing as she imagined how the Arena must look, with several big white bubbles floating around it. She couldn't strike back, however, or they would know which shield she stood within.

  As the shields drew close to her adversaries, she felt them encounter the novices' barrier. She stopped and let all but one of the shields fall back a little. The novices began to attack the one still advancing. She let one of the stationary shields waver and disappear: another distraction.

  Reverting the shield around her to a transparent one, she found herself standing near three novices. Gathering her power, she blasted one with a fierce attack of forcestrikes. He jumped, and his neighbors whirled around to face her,

  but the rest of the novices were still too distracted by her other shields to realize their allies needed help.

  The combined shield wavered and broke before her.

  "Halt!"

  Sonea turned to face Balkan. She blinked in surprise when she saw that he was smiling.

  "An interesting strategy, Sonea," he said. "Not one we'd probably use in real combat, but certainly effective in the Arena. You win the bout."

  Sonea bowed. She knew that next time she attended his lessons she would find her multiple shield idea completely ineffective. The University gong rang, signalling the end of the class, and Sonea heard a few sighs among the novices. She smiled, but more at having ended the bout without using too much strength than at their obvious relief.

  "Lesson over," Balkan announced. "You may go."

  The novices bowed and filed out of the Arena. Sonea saw that two magicians were standing just outside the entrance. Her heart skipped when she recognized them: Akkarin and Lorlen.

  She followed the other novices out of the Arena. They bowed to the Higher Magicians as they passed. Akkarin ignored them and beckoned to Sonea.

  "High Lord." She bowed. "Administrator."

  "You did well, Sonea," Akkarin said. "You assessed their strengths, recognized their weaknesses, and came up with an original response."

  She blinked in surprise, then felt her face warm.

  "Thank you."

  "I wouldn't take Balkan's comment too seriously, however," he added. "In real combat, a magician uses any strategy that works."

  Lorlen gave Akkarin a penetrating look. He looked as if he desperately wanted to ask a question, but didn't dare. Or perhaps a dozen questions, Sonea mused. She felt a pang of sympathy for the Administrator, and then she remembered the ring he wore.

  It enabled Akkarin to sense everything Lorlen saw, felt and thought. Was Lorlen aware of its power? If he was, he

  must feel utterly betrayed by his friend. She shivered. If only Akkarin could tell Lorlen the truth.

  But then, if he did, would he also tell Lorlen she had willingly learned black magic? Thinking of that made her feel very uncomfortable.

  Akkarin started walking toward the University. Sonea and Lorlen followed.

  "The Guild will lose interest in the murderer once Ambassador Dannyl arrives with the rogue, Lorlen," Akkarin said.

  Sonea had heard about the rebels that Dannyl had caught. News about the rogue magician he was bringing to the Guild had spread among the novices faster than the winter cough.

  "Perhaps," Lorlen replied, "but they won't forget. Nobody forgets a killing spree like this. I wouldn't be surprised if someone demands the Guild do something about it."

  Akkarin sighed. "As if having magic makes it any easier for us to find one person in a city of many thousands."

  Lorlen opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at Sonea and seemed to think better of it. He remained silent until they reached the University steps, then he bid them good night and hurried away. Akkarin started toward the residence.

  "So the Thieves haven't found the spy yet?" Sonea asked quietly.

  Akkarin shook his head.

  "Does it usually take this long?"

  He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "You're eager to see us fight, then?"

  "Eager?" She shook her head. "No, I'm not eager. I can't help thinking that the longer she's out there, the more people she will kill." She paused. "My family lives in North-side."

  His expression softened a little. "Yes. There are many thousands in the slums, however. The odds of her taking one of your relatives is small, particularly if they stay indoors at night."

  "They do." She sighed. "I worry about Cery and my old friends, though."

  "I'm sure your thief friend can take care of himself."

  She nodded. "You're probably right." As they passed the gardens, she thought about her early morning encounter with Rothen. She felt another stab of guilt. She hadn't lied to him, as such. Akkarin had never asked her to learn black magic.

  But she felt terrible when she considered how Rothen would feel if he learned the truth. He had done so much for her, and sometimes it seemed like all she'd ever brought him was trouble. Perhaps it was good that they had been separated.

  And she had to admit, begrudgingly, Akkarin had done more than Rothen could have to ensure she had the best training. She would never have been much good at Warrior Skills if he hadn't pushed her. Now it looked like she would need to use those skills to fight the spies.

  As they reached the residence and the door swung open, Akkarin paused and glanced upward. "I believe Takan is waiting for us." He moved inside and approached the wine cabinet. "Go on up."

  As she climbed the stairs she thought back to his comment at the Arena. Had there been a hint of pride in his voice? Was he actually pleased with her as a novice? The idea was strangely appealing. Perhaps she really had earned the title: the High Lord's favorite.

  Her. The slum girl.

  She slowed her step. Thinking back, she could not remember him ever expressing disdain or distaste about her origins. He had been threatening, manipulative and cruel, but he had never once reminded her that she had come from the poorest part of the city.

  But then, how could he look down on another person? she suddenly thought. He was a slave once.

  The ship was from the Elyne King's fleet and was larger than the Vindo vessels Dannyl had travelled in before. Made solely to transport important personages rather than cargo, there was space inside for several small but luxurious rooms. Though Dannyl had managed to sleep for most of the day, he found it difficult to stop yawning as he rose, washed and

  dressed. A servant brought him a plate of roast harrel and some elaborately prepared vegetables. He felt better after eating, and a cup of sumi helped wake him up completely.

  Through the ship's small windows he could see the sails of the other vessels glowing orange in the light of the setting sun. He left his room, then made his way down a long corridor to Farand's cell.

  It wasn't a cell, really. Though it was the smallest and plainest room in the ship, it was comfortably furnished. Dannyl knocked on the door. A short magician with a round face greeted him.

  "Your turn then, Ambassador," Lord Barene said, obviously relieved that his shift was over. He stared at Dannyl, then shook his head, muttered something under his breath
and left.

  Farand was lying on the bed. He looked at Dannyl and smiled faintly. Two plates lay on a small table. From the harrel bones left on them, Dannyl guessed they'd had the same meal as he.

  "How are you feeling, Farand?"

  The young man yawned. 'Tired."

  Dannyl sat down in one of the cushioned chairs. He knew Farand wasn't sleeping too well. Neither would I, he thought, if I thought I might face death in a week.

  He did not believe the Guild would execute Farand. A rogue magician hadn't been discovered for over a century, however, and he had to admit he had no idea what would happen. The hardest part was, he wanted to reassure Farand, but he couldn't. It would be cruel if he turned out to be wrong.

  "What have you been doing?"

  "Talking to Barene. Or he's been talking to me. About you."

  "Really?"

  Farand sighed. "Royend is telling everyone about you and your lover."

  Dannyl felt a chill. So it had started.

  "I'm sorry," Farand added.

  Dannyl blinked in surprise. "Don't be, Farand. It was part of the deception. A way to convince him to trust us."

  Farand frowned. "I don't believe it."

  "No?" Dannyl forced himself to smile. "When we get to Kyralia, the High Lord will confirm it. It was his idea to have us pretend to be lovers, so the rebels felt they had something to blackmail us with."

  "But what he's telling them is true," Farand said softly. "When I saw you two together, it was obvious. Don't worry. I haven't told anyone my views on the matter." He yawned again. "I won't. But I can't help thinking you must be wrong about the Guild."

  "How so?"

  "You keep telling me the Guild is always fair and reasonable. But from the way the other magicians are reacting to this news about you, I'm beginning to think it's not. And it wasn't fair of your High Lord to make you reveal something like that if he knew this was how the other magicians would react." His eyelids closed, then fluttered open again. "I'm so tired. And I don't feel so good."

  "Get some rest then."