—I suspect getting to Achati’s house will be the dangerous part, but we will see if it can be done, Dannyl sent back.
—Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Oh, and Sonea will be wearing one of my blood rings. We’re hoping she will also be able to see what you see.
—And come rescue me if something goes wrong?
—That would create less of a political mess than if she has to rescue Lorkin. Hmm. It could be a way to get the Traitors to let her enter the city. They’d find it harder to justify preventing her coming to the aid of the Guild Ambassador than of her son.
Dannyl’s heart skipped.
—You want me to get into trouble so she has an excuse to enter the city?
—No. But maybe we could pretend you are... No. Not unless we have to. Get yourselves to Achati’s house first, then we’ll consider other ideas.
—Very well.
—Good luck, Dannyl.
—Thanks, Osen.
Slipping off the ring, Dannyl dressed quickly in fresh robes. He paused to look back at the room. Was there anything else he ought to take with him? My notes? No. They’ll be safer left here than with me. If I’m killed, this place might be looted, but no looter will want notebooks. Later someone might go through our belongings more carefully. Hopefully a Guild magician, who will see the value in them. Maybe Achati... if he survives.
Pushing that thought aside, Dannyl turned and strode out of his suite in search of Merria and Tayend.
* * *
Lorkin sat cross-legged, his back against a wall. The Master’s Room of the estate the Traitors had gathered in was crowded, but they were taking care to keep clear a narrow path from corridor to corridor so that messengers could move about quickly and without tripping.
This was the third location Savara’s team had moved to during the night. The second had been another abandoned mansion; then, towards morning, they’d slunk through the silent city streets to a more defendable house chosen to be the gathering place before the final confrontation with the Ashaki. Lorkin hadn’t slept, and doubted that anyone else had either. Not that I would have been able to if I’d had the chance or there’d been room to lie down. A Traitor entered the room and looked towards him. He turned to see who it was and his heartbeat quickened as he saw it was Tyvara. She smiled and made her way over to him. There was no space for her to sit beside him, so he stood up. She handed him a vest.
“This is for you,” she said, raising her voice so he could hear her in the noisy room.
He felt his stomach do a little flip as the weight of it settled into his hands. All of the Traitors wore these vests. They were covered in small pockets, each holding gemstones fixed into settings of wood, stone or precious metal. He’d assumed he would be fighting without stones, since he’d had no training in using them in battle.
“It’s easier to use if you put it on,” Tyvara told him.
“Give me a moment,” he retorted. Shrugging into the vest, he found it was a little tight around the arms.
“I thought it would be a bit small,” Tyvara said, trying and failing to bring the buckles and straps at the front together. “But it’s the only one we could spare.”
“Well, it’s what’s in it that’s important,” he said.
“How the stones are arranged helps you find them if you can’t look away from the enemy, so if the fronts are flapping about you might grab the wrong one. But I guess you aren’t familiar with their positions anyway.” She sighed and looked up at him, her expression serious. “Just remember: the left side is for defensive stones, the right for offensive. The stronger ones are to the centre, the weaker to the sides. Make sure that if you take the vest off you don’t turn it upside down with the pockets unbuttoned, because if they fall out you won’t know which is stronger or weaker.”
Lorkin repeated what she’d said. He hadn’t seen the Traitors using stones when fighting up to this point. He guessed that they were saving them for the main battle, or that the stones were more useful in a bigger confrontation. The only stones he’d seen used so far were defensive, like the barrier stones that Halana had been setting when she’d been ambushed. Those had created simple shields, but others had been activated that used a shield as an alarm, not strong enough to prevent a person passing though but emitting a noise when they did. He had also seen a stone, accidentally activated, produce an opaque white non-resistant shield, and Savara had a stone that would block noise.
“The bigger pockets hold basic shield and strike stones,” Tyvara told him, patting a row of larger pockets near his waist. “The shield stones are all strong enough to hold against a few strikes, but how many or how powerful depends on the limits of each stone. Always be ready for their depletion with a shield of your own magic.”
She flipped open the top flap of a pocket and pulled out one of the stones. The setting was like a short spoon, with the gem filling the bowl. “Hold it like this.” She pinched the handle between two fingers and turned the concave side outwards. “Press your finger into the back of the gem to activate it. Face the gem away or you’ll direct the shield or strike at yourself.”
“That would be embarrassing,” he noted.
A glint of humour entered her gaze. “And potentially fatal. Which would be embarrassing to me. I’ll be forever known for choosing a very stupid man.”
He chuckled. “What about the other stones?”
“This will be harder to remember. Shield stones have stone settings, strike stones have wooden ones. The rest use bronze, copper, gold and silver, with different textures on the handle so you can recognise them by touch.” She took these out one by one, describing what they could do. One was for noise-blocking, another would make an ear-splitting sound. A few could produce light, for illumination or signalling. One made a short, constant firestrike for cutting or burning, another used forcestrike to project any small missile set into the bowl. Another pair were designed to explode after a delay, though she warned him that it could be after anything from a count to ten to a few hundred.
Then she pulled out a handful of rings from her pockets.
“Most of the vest stones are single-use stones. These are multiple-use ones, so don’t throw them away when they’re depleted. The smallest are for communication,” she said, slipping two rings holding iridescent gems onto his little fingers. “They don’t activate until you press them down into the setting, against your skin. The one on your left hand connects with the ring I’m wearing, the other was going to connect with Halana, but Savara will now be wearing her rings. Don’t use hers except in urgent situations. You could distract her at a bad moment.
“The dark red ones are strike stones. The pale blue are shield stones.” She pressed them onto his first and second fingers, then held out the last two. “These are new to us, and we don’t have many of them. The clear one... you gave Halana the idea, actually. We’d never bothered to make stones with the sole purpose of storing magic to be retrieved later as pure magic, rather than to be channelled to a purpose.”
“A storestone!”
“Yes. We have about twenty of them. They have only the strength of three average magicians stored in them. Halana didn’t want to risk adding more, and most of Sanctuary’s strength was being taken and held by Traitor magicians – which made it instantly accessible rather than having to reach for a ring. If these were strengthened in peace time, however, they could be more useful.”
He took the ring and slipped it on the last free finger of his right hand.
“And the other?”
“The purplish one,” she grinned, “is a Healing stone.”
“Kalia made it?”
“No. A stone-maker read her mind, tested what she’d learned on a volunteer, then made a few stones. She says the stones have been taught to boost the body in whatever Healing it’s already trying to do.”
Lorkin picked up the ring and examined it. “Smart. That way, if it works, it won’t matter what kind of wound needs Healing. The wearer only needs to know
how to use magical force to hold bones in the right position so they don’t heal crooked, or the sides of wounds together, or to remove poisons, infection or a build-up of blood. It wouldn’t work for using Healing beyond what the body needs, like easing pain, or tiredness, though. How many did she make?”
“Five. Wait... easing tiredness?” Tyvara frowned. “You can stop yourself feeling tired?”
“Ah... yes. I didn’t mention that when I was in Sanctuary, in case it made people feel more... well... annoyed with me.”
“Does it take much magic?”
“No.”
“Could you ease my weariness, or Savara’s?”
“Yes.”
She waved a hand as he tried to give the ring back to her. He looked at her hands. She wasn’t yet wearing any of her rings. “Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Then take it. There’s no point in me having it. I can do all these things already.”
“Savara said you’d say that, but insisted I offer one to you anyway.”
“I appreciate the offer, but she’d be doing me more of a favour if you wore it.”
“Why would I need one, when I have you?” Taking the ring, she smiled. “She wants to see you.”
She caught his hand in hers, and led him across the room and into a corridor. Savara was in the main suite, surrounded by people talking in groups or arriving and leaving. Looking around, Lorkin recognised all of the Speakers – except Halana, of course. Seeing him, Savara held up a hand to the woman she was talking to, then walked over to meet him.
“Lorkin,” she said, her eyes dropping to his vest then up to meet his gaze. “All prepared for the fight?”
He patted his chest. “Yes, thanks to you and whoever prepared this for me.”
Tyvara held out the purple ring. The queen smiled and nodded. “Give it to Speaker Lanna.”
As Tyvara moved away, Savara stepped a little closer and suddenly all sound ceased as a barrier surrounded them. Her expression became hard.
“Has she given anything away?”
Guessing she meant Kalia, Lorkin frowned. “No. All I sense is guilt. I’ve caught her thinking that she is a fool a few more times.”
“Not even a hint that she is planning something?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t lower your guard, though.”
Her lips pressed into a grim smile. “No. She will be well away from me, watched closely.” She sighed. “I suspect whatever she did backfired and got Halana killed, and she doesn’t want to risk making the same mistake.”
“I hope so, though it will make proving what she did impossible. Unless you want me to reveal what I can do?”
“Not when I am her only target.” She looked down and let out a bitter laugh. “However, you may find your life’s task is to keep an eye on her until she dies. If we win this battle.”
He shrugged. “I’d do it anyway,” he admitted. “If not for your safety, then for mine and Tyvara’s. And...”
The queen put up a hand to silence him. The sounds of the room abruptly returned as Tyvara rejoined them.
“Lorkin was just telling me that he can heal away tiredness,” she told Savara. “It would give you an advantage, going into battle with your mind fresh and sharp.”
The queen’s eyebrows rose. “It would.”
“Is that wise?” another voice said. Lorkin turned to see Speaker Lanna step closer. She looked apologetic but also determined. “Mere hours before the final battle, can you afford to put that much trust in someone not born a Traitor?”
As Tyvara turned to glare at the woman, Lorkin placed a hand on her arm. “It’s a fair question.”
Savara nodded. “It is. And entirely unnecessary. After Halana learned what she could of Healing from Kalia, she and I have been – were, in her case – experimenting.” A look of pain flashed across her face. “She succeeded in working out how to Heal weariness a few days ago.” She straightened and turned to Lorkin. “But if she had not, I would accept your offer. The benefit is worth it, and there are competent people ready to take my place, should trusting you prove a bad decision.” Her gaze shifted to something behind him. “And here’s another messenger.”
Lorkin turned to see a tired-looking man hovering behind him, and felt a jolt of recognition.
“Evar!” he exclaimed.
The man grinned. “Lorkin. I was hoping I’d run into you one last time.” He turned back to the queen and placed a hand over his heart. “The Ashaki are gathering in the parade, your majesty, and look ready to advance.”
Savara’s eyes widened a little, then she straightened her back. “It is time.” She looked around the room. “Gather everyone outside the gates. I will say a few words, then... then we’ll finally confront our enemy directly.”
* * *
Lilia followed her sixth guide for the morning out of a cluttered alley behind several smaller shops and into the tidier one between two large buildings. The alley was shadowed and she tried not to flinch at the stares of a group of men leaning against the walls. She was dressed in threadbare servants’ clothing and probably looked as tired, nervous and vulnerable as she felt.
The journey had begun before dawn. The guides had taken her all over the city, through all of the main districts. At first there had been few people about, then only servants and the employees of businesses with jobs that required early rising. Slowly the city streets had filled as more people emerged.
Though only a few hours had passed, it felt like far longer. Lilia longed for the journey to end. Wanted the exchange with Skellin over with. And yet she dreaded the confrontation.
She’d spent most of the night awake, imagining every possible way things might go badly. The few times she’d fallen asleep, she’d started awake again from dreams in which Anyi was calling for her, but couldn’t hear her replies. Remembering the dreams sent a shiver down her spine, so she thought back to Rothen, Gol and Jonna’s discussion the previous night.
“Sonea once killed an Ichani with Healing power,” Rothen had told her. “He imprisoned her within his shield, thinking her too weak to be dangerous and not realising that Healing magic can overcome the body’s natural barrier. She stopped his heart. It would be better if you didn’t kill Skellin, even if it means letting him escape, so we have a chance to catch him and find out who his allies and sources are. But if you have no other choice...”
To kill with Healing magic, Lilia would have to touch Skellin’s skin and have time to send her mind within. If he detected what she was doing it would only take a small effort to push her out. The Ichani hadn’t known anything about Healing magic, but Skellin did. He would be suspicious of any attempt she made to touch him anyway, in case it was an attempt to use black magic.
No. My plan is better. Not much better, and I have to ignore the fact that, unlike using Healing to kill, I have no idea if it will work.
Her own shield would have earned her the mockery of any first-year novice, but not for its lack of strength. It had taken her a while to work out how to stop hiding her use of magic so that Rothen could sense it. The magician was somewhere in the centre of the city. He’d guessed that Skellin’s men would realise he could track Lilia if he was spotted following her around, so he was waiting with Gol until she let them know she was about to meet Skellin. Once she did, he would move as close as he could without attracting attention, so that if something went wrong he could, hopefully, get to her in time to help.
She could sense Gol’s mind at the edge of her own. It was less distracting than she’d feared. He and Rothen were in a quiet room of a house belonging to a friend of Rothen’s. A rather nice house, judging the impressions she was getting from Gol. With his mind so constantly open to her, it was easy to forget that he could not see into hers, and she had to speak to him consciously in order to communicate.
Emerging from the alleyway, Lilia paused as a gust of fragrant air battered her. She looked around and felt her stomach twitch in anxiety. The docks stretched before
and to either side of her.
The guide noticed that she’d stopped and made an impatient gesture. Taking a deep breath, Lilia followed him toward a long pier. They skirted around stacks of goods and wharf workers. Ships rocked gently on either side. As the guide started along the pier, she framed a question in her mind.
—Gol! What if he tells me to get on a ship?
There was a pause before Gol answered.
—Rothen says he’s thinking about it.
After they’d passed four ships, the guide stopped before a plank leading up to one of the vessels and pointed to it. She looked up at the vessel. The crew stared back down at her expectantly.
—They look ready to sail. What should I do?
—Get on board. You may only get one chance to save Anyi, Gol replied.
Which was better than no chance. She drew in a deep breath, let it out, then started up the plank. Nobody spoke to her. As soon as she had reached the deck the crew turned away and set to work.
How will Rothen follow? Does the Guild have a ship? Will he be able to use it without having to tell the Higher Magicians what I’m doing?
She moved down the deck, searching the faces. Skellin was not there. Nor Lorandra. Nor Anyi. The crew must be taking her to meet Skellin – but how far away was he? Surely not in another country. It would take weeks to get there.
She imagined what she might feel like if she had been a lone young servant girl surrounded by these tough-looking men. Their expressions were not leering, though, but cold. They avoided her gaze. Nobody paid attention to her except to skirt around her when she got in the way.
Which happened a lot. There wasn’t much room on the deck of a ship. Certainly not on a small vessel designed for transporting goods rather than people. By noting the movements of the crew, she found a place to stand out of their way. From there she watched as the ship drifted away from the pier, out of the Marina and towards the sea.
The deck began to rock under her, and she had to brace herself. Many more ships surrounded them, sailing to or from the mouth of the Tarali River, but as their vessel drew further from land they pulled away from most of the others. All but one, which had its sails furled. The man who was barking out most of the orders – from which she guessed he was the captain – pointed in its direction.
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