The Traitor Queen

by Trudi Canavan

  As the carriage pulled up outside the palace, Dannyl sighed. He waited until the Guild House slave opened the door, then rose and climbed out. Smoothing his robes, he straightened his back and strode toward the entrance.

  Nobody stopped him. He had wondered why they’d let him in the previous day, when all they intended to tell him was to go home. Once again he stepped out of the broad passage into the hall, and was told by a slave to wait to one side.

  Several people were standing around the hall. The king was present this time. At least Dannyl would be able to give his request directly to Amakira. Not that it would gain him a favourable response. The king finished talking to a pair of men and invited another three to approach.

  Time passed. More people arrived. The king saw some of them not long after they arrived – sooner than Dannyl and some of the others waiting for an audience. They must have been more important, or at least the matter to be discussed was. Or he’s deliberately ignoring me to put me in my place.

  Dannyl guessed that a few hours had passed by the time the king looked his way, then beckoned.

  “Guild Ambassador Dannyl,” he said.

  Dannyl approached and knelt. “Your majesty.”

  “Rise and come closer.”

  He obeyed. The air vibrated faintly, and Dannyl realised that the king, or someone else, had placed a shield about them to prevent sound escaping.

  “You’re here, no doubt, to ask me to give Lorkin back,” the old man said.

  “I am,” Dannyl replied.

  “The answer is no.”

  “May I at least see him, your majesty?”

  “Of course.” The king’s stare was cold. “If you promise to order him to tell me everything he knows about the Traitors.”

  “I cannot give that order,” Dannyl replied.

  Amakira’s stare did not waver. “So you said. I’m sure you could convince him that the order came from those with the authority to give it.”

  Dannyl opened his mouth to refuse, then paused. I could agree to try, in order to see Lorkin and confirm he is alive and well. But what if the king decided that Dannyl had broken his promise? Was that crime enough to be imprisoned for? Osen made it clear that I should avoid that. And if they take me prisoner, they’ll take Osen’s ring from me.

  “I cannot do that either, your majesty,” Dannyl replied.

  The king leaned back in his chair. “Then come back when you can.” He made a dismissive gesture. Taking the hint, Dannyl bowed and backed away for an appropriate distance, then turned and left.

  Well, at least I got to see the king this time, he thought as he waited for the carriage. A rejection from the ruler is a slightly better-quality failure than a rejection from one of his lackeys. He wondered which he’d receive tomorrow, or if they would start refusing him admission to the palace.

  When the carriage arrived at the Guild House he opened the door for himself, before any slave could do it. The air outside the house was hot and dry, and it was a relief to escape it into the cooler interior. He headed for his rooms, but before he got there Merria appeared in the corridor ahead.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  Dannyl shrugged. “No better, though this time I was given a royal refusal.”

  She shook her head. “Poor Lorkin. I hope he’s all right.”

  “Any news from your friends?”

  “No. They said they’re doing what they can to manipulate the Ashaki into objecting to the taking of a Kyralian magician prisoner, but it requires careful timing and can’t be hurried.”

  He nodded. “Well … I appreciate their efforts. We all do.”

  They had reached the entrance to his rooms. She looked up at him, her expression concerned, then patted him on the arm. “You’re doing everything you can,” she told him. “Everything they’ll let you do, anyway.”

  He frowned. “So you think there’s nothing else I could do? Nothing that the Guild is preventing me from doing that I should do? Nothing we haven’t thought of yet?”

  She looked away. “No … nothing that doesn’t include a risk of making the situation worse if it fails to work, anyway. Are you hungry? I was going to ask Vai to make me something to eat.”

  What is this risky idea? he wondered. Should I ask about it? “Yes,” he said. “But not straightaway. I want to contact the Administrator first.”

  “I’ll arrange something.” She headed back down the corridor and disappeared.

  The interrogator didn’t turn up until some hours after the morning meal. Food had arrived – a slurry of ground grain. A faint symbol drawn with water on the porous wooden tray reassured him it was safe.

  Lorkin’s stomach stirred unpleasantly as the Ashaki interrogator and his assistant led him in a new direction. The man chose another corridor and stopped at a different doorway, but the room inside was little different from the previous one. Plain, white walls surrounded three worn old stools.

  The interrogator sat down and gestured for Lorkin to take one of the other stools, then looked at his assistant and nodded. The man slipped out of the room. Lorkin braced himself for more questions.

  None came. The interrogator looked around, then shrugged and began staring at Lorkin with a distant expression. When the assistant returned, he shoved a female slave into the room before him. She threw herself onto the floor before the Ashaki. Lorkin tried to keep his expression neutral, to hide the wave of hatred for slavery he felt at her grovelling and the Ashaki’s expectation of it.

  “Stand,” the interrogator ordered.

  She got to her feet, facing the Ashaki with hunched shoulders and keeping her eyes downcast.

  “Look at him.” The interrogator pointed at Lorkin.

  The woman turned to face him, her gaze fixed on the floor. She was beautiful, he realised – or would have been if she hadn’t been terrified. Long, glossy hair framed a sculpted jaw and cheek bones that, for a moment, stirred memories of Tyvara that made his heart skip and fill with longing. But this woman’s limbs, while as graceful, were trembling, and her dark eyes were wide. At her obvious fear he felt his stomach sink. She expected something bad to happen.

  “Look at him. Don’t look away.”

  Her gaze flitted up to meet his. Lorkin forced himself not to look away. If he did, he knew the Ashaki would make him regret it somehow. He could not help searching for some hint of resolve in her face, or an effort at communication that might indicate that she was a Traitor. All he saw was fear and resignation.

  She expects pain, or worse. The only slaves I’ve seen down here were carrying things. Why else would she – a beautiful young woman – be down here with no obvious menial purpose?

  A slave this beautiful would never be given purely menial tasks.

  He felt sick. He could not help thinking of Tyvara again, and what she must have been forced to do as part of her spying. She, too, was too beautiful not to have attracted that kind of attention from her masters.

  After all, the first time she met me she expected me to take her to bed.

  The interrogator stood up. He took hold of the woman’s arm and pulled her closer to him. One of his hands went to the jewelled sheath that all Ashaki wore at their hip and he slowly drew his knife. Lorkin held his breath as the knife rose toward the slave’s throat. The woman shut her eyes tightly, but did not struggle.

  Words flooded into Lorkin’s throat, but stuck there. He knew exactly what the interrogator intended to do, and why. If I speak to save her, many, many more will die. If she is a Traitor, she won’t want me to betray her people. He swallowed hard.

  The knife did not slice across her throat. Instead the interrogator slid it under one shoulder of her shift and cut through the cloth. He took hold of the other shoulder and pulled, and the slave garment slid away, leaving her naked but for a loin cloth. Her expression didn’t change.

  The Ashaki sheathed his knife, looked over her shoulder at Lorkin, and smiled.

  “Any time you want to talk, go right ahead,” he said,
flexing his fingers and curling them into a fist. The assistant chuckled.

  And then the Ashaki set to work.

  CHAPTER 8

  COMING TO AN UNDERSTANDING

  Putting down the book she had been failing to concentrate on, Lilia looked around Sonea’s guest room and sighed. Though Sonea had been absent or asleep most of the time, her rooms felt strangely empty now that she had left for Sachaka. Lilia was suddenly more conscious of being alone, and that nobody – no magician, at least – was likely to visit.

  Well, none except Kallen if I don’t turn up to classes on time, but it’s not like he makes social visits.

  Anyi might still slip in at night via the secret opening in the room’s wall panelling but now that she, Cery and Gol were living under the Guild it was safer for Lilia to visit them. There had always been a risk that someone would discover Anyi in Sonea’s rooms and realise they hadn’t seen her enter or leave by the door.

  The only other person who visited Lilia on a regular basis was Jonna, Sonea’s servant and aunt. Jonna visited twice a day to deliver meals. But she must also come here after I’ve left for classes to clean, too, Lilia thought, remembering how she usually returned to find everything tidy. While Jonna usually slipped into Sonea’s bedroom after the evening meal to change the bed linen and gather robes to wash, that was only because Sonea had worked night shift at the hospices.

  Looking over at the open door of her room, Lilia regarded the bag she used to carry textbooks and notes around. It held the food she’d taken from the Foodhall that day, some soap, and clean wash cloths from the Baths, ready to take to her friends. She also had news from Kallen to deliver, but until Jonna arrived with the evening meal, Lilia wouldn’t be able to slip away.

  In the meantime she tried to study. She looked down at the book in her hands. She’d never really caught up with the lessons she’d missed while a prisoner in the Lookout. Teachers would notice if she slipped even further behind.

  Once Cery, Anyi and Gol have settled in, I’ll be able to get back to my studies, she told herself. Maybe I’ll study all next Freeday. If my plan works tonight at least there’ll be one less thing to worry about.

  Her thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. She stood up in case it was a magician, and opened the door with magic. To her relief, Jonna bustled in. Though burdened with a lacquered box and a large jug, the woman managed to bow before placing it on the table.

  “Good evening, Lady Lilia.”

  “Good … evening.” Lilia hesitated as she opened the box and saw, to her disappointment, that it held one bowl of a thick soup and a single bread roll, as well as a creamy dessert. Of course. She won’t be bringing more than one person can eat now. Which made it even more important that Lilia’s plan worked.

  “What’s wrong?” Jonna asked.

  “I … I was hoping Anyi would visit tonight.”

  Lilia had been surprised to discover Jonna already knew Anyi was Cery’s daughter, and of the secret entrance to Sonea’s rooms, until she learned that Jonna was Sonea’s aunt. It certainly explained the way Jonna bossed Sonea around in private, with no fear and little regard for status.

  Jonna smiled as she moved the food from the tray to the table. “She drops by a lot these days.”

  Lilia nodded. “At least she’s safe when she’s here.”

  “And she can get a decent meal,” Jonna added. She straightened. “I’ll go find something for her. Something that will still be nice even if it has gone cold, so she can take it away with her if she has already eaten.”

  “Could you …?” Lilia grimaced. “Could you bring something every night? Even if she doesn’t eat it, there are others she’d like to help. I’d like to help. And … can you bring lamp oil so she doesn’t have to find her way here in the dark?”

  Jonna looked sympathetic as she nodded. “Of course.”

  “And … I don’t suppose … if it’s not asking too much … What does the Guild do with old bedding and broken furniture?”

  The servant’s eyebrows rose. “Most furniture here doesn’t break often. It’s so well made it lasts for hundreds of years. If anything does break, we fix it, and if it’s no longer good enough for magicians it goes to the servants.” She shrugged. “Same with old bedding. When it’s too worn for servants it becomes rags.” She looked at Lilia. “But there’s more old bedding about than furniture. Let me see if I can get my hands on some.”

  Lilia nodded. “Thank you. I’d buy some things for her, but I’m not allowed to leave the grounds to go shopping.”

  “I could get them for you,” Jonna offered, “if you write down what you want.”

  “Do you have time? You must be busy.”

  “Not as busy as you’d think, especially now Sonea’s not here. Fetching things for you is part of my job.”

  “Well … thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

  Jonna gestured at the bowl. “Now, you start on that before it goes cold and I’ll go fetch something for Anyi.”

  As the door closed behind the servant, Lilia sighed in relief and triumph. Her plan had worked, though she felt a little guilty at suggesting that what she had asked for was going to needy people when it was only going to Cery, Gol and Anyi. But they do need it.

  Looking down at the meal Jonna had brought, she decided to eat it and give the food she’d taken from the Foodhall to Cery and Gol. Soup was much too hard to transport, and the dessert was as likely to spill. At least if Jonna saw evidence that Lilia was eating some of the food she’d brought, she wouldn’t worry over Lilia eating enough – or giving it all away.

  As she ate, she thought about how such small, everyday things could become so important. Cery and his friend and daughter were safer in the Guild passages, especially with the passage connecting them to the Thieves’ Road destroyed, yet something as trivial as getting food to them was a daily difficulty and risk. If Lilia didn’t have to constantly find them something to eat, it would be much easier to hide their presence from the Guild.

  I want to do better than bring them food, too, she thought. I want them to be comfortable. I can’t ask Jonna to buy anything luxurious, or she’ll grow suspicious. Unless … I could say it’s for me …

  Finishing the soup, she got up and gathered paper, pen and ink and began writing a list.

  * * *

  As Sonea blinked awake she marvelled that she had slept at all in the rocking carriage. Looking across at Regin, she saw that he was conscious and watching her. He smiled faintly and politely looked away.

  How long was I asleep? She pulled aside the screen covering the window over the carriage door. Green hills surrounded them, tainted with the gold of a late-afternoon sun. Quite a while. Poor Regin. He’s probably been awake and bored for most of the day.

  For the first few hours of their journey the previous night, their conversation had revolved around the arrangements they’d made to take care of things in their absence, Lilia’s progress and future, the places they would probably stop along the journey and some of the information they had been given about Sachakan society. When Regin began yawning she insisted he try to sleep. He’d eventually done so, a travel pillow braced between his head and the side of the carriage. The roads nearer the city were smoother than those further into the countryside, so he was not often jostled awake.

  She’d spent the night staring out of the window, thinking about the tasks she had been given and worrying about Lorkin. Remembering the last time she had travelled this road, following Akkarin into exile, she felt echoes of emotions from twenty years before. Fear, rejection, hope and love, all softened with time. She let them come, held onto them for a little while, and then released them to fade into the past.

  This journey brought some interesting new emotions. Aside from fear and worry over Lorkin, and anxiety at the potential for everything to go badly for herself and Regin, there was a strange elation. After twenty years of being restricted to the Guild grounds, she had suddenly been set free.

  Well, no
t exactly free. I can’t just roam about wherever my fancy takes me. I am on a mission.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Regin’s question brought her back to her surroundings. She shrugged.

  “About being outside the city. I’d assumed I’d never leave it again.”

  He made a low noise of disgust. “They should trust you more.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think trust was the problem. They had no choice but to trust me. I think they feared what would happen if we were invaded again and I wasn’t around. Or if Kallen turned on them.”

  “Do you think Kallen will take advantage of your absence?”

  Sonea shook her head, then she remembered the one trait she did not like in Kallen and frowned.

  “What is it?”

  She sighed. If Regin can read me this easily, how am I going to fare when I meet with King Amakira and the Traitors? I suppose I’m not fully awake and on my guard yet. Though I wouldn’t forgive myself if I failed to free Lorkin or make an alliance just because I was sleepy.

  What to say? Regin had clearly picked up that she had concerns about Kallen, and he would imagine all sorts of reasons if she didn’t give him one. She had to tell him something.

  The truth. It isn’t exactly a big secret, anyway.

  “Rot,” she said. “Roet. It is his weakness. If I was going to corrupt Kallen, I’d do it by controlling his access to the drug.”

  Regin’s brows knit together. “Do many people know of his weakness?”

  “Vinara does. Rothen, too. I suspect many of the Higher Magicians do, though we’ve not discussed it. Or, at least, they’ve not discussed it while I was present.”

  “Whoever sells it to him knows as well,” Regin added.

  “Yes.”

  “Lilia used roet too, didn’t she?”

  “When she was with Naki. Lilia doesn’t appear to have become addicted to it. In fact, she has a distaste for roet and roet users now. I think she blames it for some of the foolish things she and Naki did.”