“It sounds like a wager. I don’t imagine he’s the sort of king’s who likes losing bets.”
“He honours his agreements.”
“What did you stand to lose?”
Achati looked smug as he waved a hand. “My house.”
“Really?” Dannyl looked around. “Do you own any other land?”
“No.”
High stakes, then. But there always were, in politics and war. Dannyl felt familiar feelings of gratitude, affection and admiration, and resisted them. He thought of Tayend’s warnings, and was surprised to find the same feelings rising. He resisted those, too. Tayend is... a friend. Perhaps, if it weren’t for Achati, we would be more than that again. But there was Achati...
The Ashaki was regarding the wine appreciatively. Dannyl couldn’t help thinking that he couldn’t be more different from Tayend. Though not as heavily built as the average Sachakan man, Achati was dark and broad, while Tayend was light and slim. How can I be attracted to such opposites? Ah, but they are both sharp and perceptive. I guess I like smart men. I wonder, though, what he sees in me.
Noticing Dannyl’s gaze, Achati turned to meet his eyes. His expression grew speculative. “Do you remember that moment during out journey to Duna? When Tayend interrupted?”
Memories and mixed emotions tumbled into Dannyl’s mind. Desire, embarrassment, anxiety and anger.
“How could I forget? Meddling little...” he muttered.
Achati laughed. “I’m sure his intentions were good. But I do feel that such moments, such chances, are going to grow rarer for us. Would we still remain friends if we were to go through another difficult time as we’ve had recently, or would there be too much distrust and suspicion? I wish...” He sighed. “It is selfish, I know. I would like us to be more than friends, for a time at least, before circumstances make us feel we must behave like enemies.”
Dannyl drew in a deep breath. His heart was beating too quickly again, and there was a strange but familiar fluttering sensation in his stomach. Which is exactly how I felt when I first arrived, he realised. Only this time there was something exhilarating about it. What would happen if he welcomed it? Embraced it?
Only one way to find out.
“Well, Tayend isn’t here now.”
Achati caught his breath. An expression flickered across his face before a look of careful interest replaced it.
Hope.
Dannyl understood then that, for all his power and wealth, Achati was alone. He doubted he could ever take advantage of that loneliness, even if he wanted to. It was not a weakness, it was part of the life Achati had embraced.
“Though I wouldn’t put it past him to be heading here right now,” Dannyl added.
Achati laughed. “Surely we couldn’t have such bad timing twice?”
“That sounds like a theory worth testing. Question is, how closely do we need to replicate the circumstances?”
“Oh, I think we have all the essential ingredients.” As Achati stood up, Dannyl followed suit. “And if I’m wrong, at least we can rely on the slaves not letting him in.” He paused to stare up at Dannyl. “Ah. Look at you.”
Dannyl blinked. “What?”
He reached up to touch Dannyl’s jaw. “So very tall and... all angles and elegance. It’s just as well you Kyralians don’t learn higher magic out of habit. You’d be much too intimidating.”
Dannyl let out a quick laugh. “You Sachakans are the intimidating ones,” he protested. “What with the black magic and—”
Achati silenced him with a shake of his head and a finger to his lips, and the hand on Dannyl’s jaw slid behind his neck and pulled him down into a kiss.
Then his mouth was beside Dannyl’s ear. “Don’t, or you’ll remind yourself that we are a brutal people. Let me show you that we can aren’t all cruel and heartless.” And he stepped back, then beckoned and led Dannyl out of the Master’s Room.
Chapter 19
An Agreement
Before the sun had even crested the horizon, the Traitors were getting ready to leave. They weren’t preparing to eat first, Sonea noted. When the Traitors are gone we’ll eat the last of our supplies, then head home, she decided. Though whether that “we” was to comprise two people or three was not a certainty.
She looked over to Lorkin, who had slept next to Tyvara for the last two nights. She’d listened to him closely during the negotiations. He had referred to the Traitors as “we” many times, and to the Allied Lands and Guild as “them”. She shivered as a feeling of dread crept over her.
He had changed. Not completely, though. He was still Lorkin. But he had matured. And... something else. Something like the brittleness that he’d suffered after having his heart broken, but compensated by a new resilience. She wasn’t surprised by the latter. He had been through a lot in the half-year since leaving the Guild. And taken on the burden of black magic.
I ought to be appalled, but all I feel is sadness. He has no idea what he’s shouldered. How it will always mark him as untrustworthy, even if they do accept his decision and that it is a cost of stone-making.
“They” being the Guild and other Kyralians. She did not think they would reject him. How could they, now that they’d accepted Lilia? But with every magician who learns black magic we seem to be losing something. Perhaps our innocence. Perhaps caution.
Lorkin had returned from replenishing his supply of water. She thought of the gemstones in her pocket, so far unmentioned to the Traitors. Tyvara smiled up at Lorkin as he handed her the flask. It was hers, not his. Sonea felt a pang of regret that she had no time to get to know the young woman better. The way Tyvara looked at Lorkin sent another shiver of warning through Sonea and she frowned.
For a couple so obviously in love, they are not behaving like they are about to be parted.
As if sensing her gaze, Lorkin turned and met Sonea’s eyes. His smile faded, then he looked back at Tyvara and nodded. Her expression became serious. Sympathetic. She nodded and watched as Lorkin made his way over to Sonea.
“Mother,” he said. “Can we talk privately?”
“Of course.” Standing up, Sonea looked around, then chose a direction at random and began walking. He followed silently. About twenty paces away she stopped and created a sound-containing barrier around them both, then waited for him to speak.
Lorkin suddenly could not meet her gaze. “I... ah... we...”
She sighed and relented. “Are you coming back with me?”
He straightened his shoulders and raised his head. “No.”
She stared at him, fighting a rising panic. I could order him to. I could contact Osen and get him to give the order. But she suspected that would push Lorkin into doing something even more foolish.
“It’s not Tyvara,” he said. “Well, not just Tyvara.” His gaze became intense. She read excitement and hope. “I think the Traitors will win. When they say they will end slavery... I think they’ll do that, too. They’ve been planning it for years. For centuries.”
“So... if they win, will they be any better than the Ashaki?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “And if they lose?”
His expression was grim. She suddenly saw in his face what he would look like in ten years or more. If he makes it through the next few weeks. No, don’t think about that.
“Some things are worth risking lives for,” he said. “If you had seen what the Ashaki do – experienced it – you’d want to rid the world of them, too.”
At the anger and horror in his voice she felt a pain inside. What did they do to him? She wanted to know, and to find whoever had done it, and hurt them. Both for that, and for making my son want to risk his life in this way.
“The Guild won’t like this, but I’m sure you know that,” she told him.
He nodded. “Tell them to officially declare me an exile. That way they won’t be blamed for my actions, if we lose.”
She felt her heart sink. I ought to be pleased that he’s thought this through, but I can’
t be. If only I could take his place... but I don’t think that would stop him going to war anyway.
And suddenly she knew what she would do next. If he would not come home, she would not either. She would follow him. She would do all she could to protect him.
“So you consider yourself a Traitor now.” She nodded. “Then there is something you need to know.” She reached into her pocket, drew out one of the gemstones and held it out.
He took it, and examined it closely. After a moment his eyes widened.
“I suspected it was possible,” he breathed.
As he stared at the stone in avid fascination, Sonea felt a bittersweet joy and pride. Here he was, her son, understanding a magic that no Guild magician had ever explored before. And he loves it.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
She gestured around them. “In the soil and sand. There’s one in the spring, too, keeping it clean. I suspect they’re all over the wastes. You can detect them, if you know what you’re looking for and you’re a black magician.”
Lorkin’s mouth opened and he turned to look at the dry, lifeless land. “Are you saying...?”
“Yes. The wasteland ought to have recovered centuries ago, but it didn’t because of the Traitors.” She touched his arm. “Are you sure you want to leave the Guild to join these people? A people this ruthless? You can still help them to bring about the end of the Ashaki without changing your loyalties.”
He looked down at the gem and frowned. Then he closed his fingers around it and nodded. “I am sure. They aren’t perfect,” his mouth twisted with wry humour, “but they are better than the Ashaki.”
Turning to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I love you, Mother. I have no intention of dying in this war. I will return to the Guild. Queen Zarala gave me stone-making knowledge so that I could pass it on, and I will do that if the Guild wants it. You’ll see me again.”
Then he hugged her tightly. She held him close, and it took all her will not to resist as he pulled away. He smiled once, then turned and strode back toward the Traitors.
Sonea blinked away tears, sighed and followed.
* * *
Stepping out of the Magicians’ Quarters into the bright sunlight, Lilia squinted and set off toward the University. More novices were about than usual for this time of morning, she noted. Most were hanging around the University entrance. As she neared them and stepped into the building’s shadow, she realised that all of their faces had turned toward her.
A chill ran down her spine and she slowed.
She recognised a few of them as friends of Bokkin. Two stepped aside. At first she assumed it was to let her through, but a familiar thug filled the gap. He grinned at her as she neared the steps.
“What’s you doing coming in here, Lilia?” he asked. “The Lookout is that way.” He pointed up the hill.
A few of the novices snickered. They drew closer together. She would have to push her way through them or go around to the front of the University.
“We’re not going to let you in,” Bokkin said.
Lilia smothered a smile. Idiot. It’s so obvious what they’re doing, he didn’t need to say it aloud. And now they can’t pretend they weren’t doing anything wrong.
She climbed the first few steps and stopped.
“Are you sure?” she asked, meeting and holding the gaze of each novice. “Black Magician Kallen is inside, waiting to teach me all sorts of black magicky secrets. He might not be too happy with you if you stop me getting to his lesson on time.”
Some of the novices frowned and exchanged doubtful glances.
“Kallen can only get you to pretend to fight with black magic,” Bokkin said. “You can’t learn anything else. You haven’t even graduated yet.”
“I heard you weren’t going to be graduating,” one of the girls near Bokkin added. “People say they won’t let you. You’ll be a novice forever.”
Lilia shrugged. “I’ll be graduating next year. I have more to learn than the average novice.” To make sure the hint sank in, she reached into her robe and pulled out the small, slim knife she had purchased at Kallen’s recommendation. She had wondered why he had insisted she needed one when she wasn’t supposed to use black magic, and suspected it was to be sure he got to approve her choice. He’d told her to buy something plain but good quality. Something more refined than a kitchen knife, but nothing as distastefully flashy as the knives the Sachakans wore. She’d met some knife-makers and chosen an elegant, slim knife with a blade that folded neatly into and out of an ebony and silver handle – an action she had practised doing one-handed.
An action she used now. She resisted a laugh as several of the novices drew in sharp breaths. But she couldn’t just stand there waving a knife around. If a magician saw her she’d be in as much trouble as the other novices. Maybe more. Inside her bag, among the books and study notes, was a pachi fruit. Jonna had put it in there when it had been clear Lilia would not have time to eat all of her morning meal.
Taking it out, Lilia began to cut slices from the fruit and eat them.
“Kallen’s going to come and find out what’s holding me up,” she told them between chews. “I wouldn’t want to b—”
“What’s going on here?” a new voice demanded. Looking up, Lilia saw the head of a magician appear behind the novices. “Find somewhere else to gather and stop blocking the doors.”
At once the novices scattered, the closest ones to the magician sketching a hasty bow. Bokkin was the only one looking disappointed, Lilia noted. The rest looked relieved. He sneered at her as she walked up the stairs, past him. The magician was one she remembered from second year, a middle-aged Alchemist.
“Good morning, Lord Jotin,” she said, bowing.
“Lady Lilia.” He nodded, then glanced about to make sure the novices weren’t going to return before heading back down the corridor. Lilia continued eating the pachi fruit as she made her way to the room Kallen held his lessons in, putting all thought of Bokkin behind her. At some point she would pose Anyi’s question to Kallen, and she had to consider how best to do it. She paused to wipe the knife and gather her thoughts, before pushing through the door into the room.
“Good morning Lady Lilia,” Kallen said, his lips widening into a half-smile as she entered.
“Black Magician Kallen.” She bowed and sat down, then opened her mouth to speak but stopped as she noticed the items on the table. A ceramic bowl stood next to some of the hollow tubes of glass Alchemists used when they needed to shape vessels and pipes to a particular use.
“Today I will teach you how to make blood gems,” Kallen told her.
She felt a thrill go through her. This was a part of black magic that most people regarded as acceptable and safe. Kallen picked up a tube and indicated that she should do the same.
“The process is easiest communicated mind to mind. The former High Lord discovered it by examining an ancient blood ring. I’ve seen and examined this ring, and I have to say I’m glad I didn’t have to work that riddle out for myself. First, melt some glass, keeping it spinning in the air to maintain the shape.”
She put aside Anyi’s question until later and followed his instructions. When they both held revolving spheres of molten glass in the air, he told her to take his hand and focus on his thoughts. She watched him shape his magic and impose his will on the glass, somehow altering its structure, then letting it cool. Then he watched her attempt the same on her piece.
They repeated this a few times, re-melting and shaping the glass, before he felt she was adept enough to try adding blood to the glass. To her surprise, this did nothing more than imprint an identity on it.
“The blood gem only works when someone is touching it,” he told her. “Do you understand the difference between how it works for the one who provided the blood, and the one who touches the gem?”
“The creator can see what the wearer sees, even if he doesn’t want to. The wearer can’t see what the creator sees but can receive
mental communications without anyone else hearing them.”
“Yes, but the gem conveys not only what the wearer sees, but their thoughts. Unless the wearer is carrying a blocking stone.”
She blinked in surprise. This was new. “What’s that?”
“Something the Traitors make. Something we may soon have. Instead of glass, these stones are crystals trained as they grow to do a magical task. A blocking stone prevents a mind-read and allows the wearer to project the thoughts they want a searcher to see.”
Cold shivered down Lilia’s spine. “Naki’s ring.”
He looked surprised, then apologetic. “I am sorry. I forgot that you had already encountered a blocking stone.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. What else can these stones do?”
“Anything a magician can do.”
“Even a black magician.”
“In that they can draw in and store power? Yes – but you must keep that to yourself for now.”
Lilia whistled quietly. “Tell me we’re making friends with these Traitors. They don’t sound like enemies we’d ever want.”
Kallen frowned. “We’re working towards that, hoping to trade for the knowledge of stone-making.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll tell you more about that another time. The important thing is that stone-making requires black magic.”
She felt a thrill of excitement. “I’ll be learning to make these stones?” That would mean she’d be one of the first Guild magicians to be able to use this new magic.
“Perhaps.”
“Will I have to travel to Sachaka?”
“No.” But by the way he paused and looked thoughtful, she guessed that the answer was not that straightforward. He shook his head. “Well, that is all for this morning. Do you have any questions?”
Her heart skipped as she remembered Anyi’s question. “Yes. Would the Guild let Cery and his two bodyguards stay here?”
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