SECRETS SHARED

Something was gripping Lorkin’s shoulder and shaking him. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring at a grinning Evar.

“What?” he asked, pushing away a heavy, cloying tiredness. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Evar assured him. “But if you don’t get up soon you’ll be late.”

Lorkin sat up and blinked at the empty beds around him. If most of the men were up and gone, he was already late. He groaned and rubbed his face, then got up.

“I wish you Traitors had time pieces,” he complained. “How am I supposed to wake up on time when you don’t have alarm gongs?”

“Some of the women have them. But here … what would we set them to?” Evar said, shrugging. “We all sleep and get up at different times.”

Lorkin sighed and started changing out of his bedclothes and into the simple trousers and shirt he liked best of all the Traitor styles of garb. Evar brought over a plate of bread covered with a layer of sweet fruit paste so thick that it must have broken the rules of winter rationing. Lorkin ate quickly, telling himself it was only so he could get to the Care Room faster, not to hide the evidence of Evar’s excess.

“Leota spoke to me last night,” Evar said between bites.

Lorkin paused and regarded his friend. The man’s expression was wistful.

“She said she enjoyed our evening together,” Evar continued, smiling faintly.

Chewing and then swallowing quickly, Lorkin fixed his friend with a stern stare.

“I’m sure she did.”

Evar looked at Lorkin and shrugged, his smile gone. “Oh, I know it’s more likely she means she enjoyed reaping the magical and political rewards, but there is a chance she wasn’t faking the other kind of enjoyment.”

“Are you tempted to find out?” Lorkin asked.

Evar shook his head. “Well, at least not until I feel like the cost is worth it again,” he added, then took another bite.

“You’d trust her again?” Lorkin was unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

“I never trusted her the first time,” Evar said, between chews. He paused to finish the mouthful. “I knew what might happen. There were going to be people who thought I should be punished for taking you to the caves. If they didn’t do it that way, they’d find another.” He grinned. “This way I got a bit of fun out of it. And while Leota may be opportunistic, she’s also got a great body.”

Lorkin stared at his friend, unable to decide what to say to this. I can hardly say “Evar, you’re not as stupid as I thought you were”. Nor would he like it if I told him he was as ruthless as the women. But he’s not been as powerless or clueless as he appeared to be. In fact, he may have been planning this since before our tour of the stone-makers’ caves.

“And if she did happen to enjoy more than gaining some magic and the satisfaction of punishing me, then maybe she will come back for more,” Evar added, his gaze turning misty again.

Or maybe he’s just making it up as he goes along, Lorkin amended. I still have to admire him for it. He seems to be able to find an upside to any situation.

“Better you than me,” Lorkin said. He dusted the crumbs off himself, then stretched. “Not that I’d have time. I’m off to the washrooms, then back to work.”

Evar grimaced. “I’ve heard things are getting bad there.”

Lorkin nodded. “It looked like the number of fever patients was easing off for a while, but then we got twice as many sick people arriving, and some of them are much sicker than before.”

“That happens every year.”

“So Kalia tells me. But I don’t believe everything Kalia says, in case she tries to trick me again.”

“Good idea,” Evar said, popping the last piece of bread in his mouth. He uttered a muffled farewell as Lorkin headed for the door.

The city seemed quieter than usual as Lorkin made his way to the washrooms, then on to the Care Room. Coughing echoed down the corridors and from behind closed doors. Only when he neared the Care Room did he realise that there was something he wasn’t hearing: the constant hum of voices throughout the city. When he finally heard the sound it was coming from the Care Room – from a queue of waiting patients extending into the corridor beyond the room’s entrance.

People saw him and scowled. Some glared. Others looked at him in a measuring way.

Kalia has no doubt been making it known that I’m late. He wasn’t that late, however. He’d made up time by bathing very quickly, which he hoped wasn’t going to make him unpleasant to be around. If only a good bath was all it took to make Kalia pleasant to be near.

Entering the room, his heart sank as he took in the sight and smell of so many sick people. Kalia saw him and immediately stalked across the room toward him. He braced himself for a scolding, but instead she grabbed his elbow and led him over to a couple hovering over a girl of about six years.

“Examine her,” she said. “Come and tell me your assessment.”

He looked at the parents and felt his heart sink even further. Both stared back at him with dark, desperate eyes and said nothing. Turning to the girl, he saw that she was pale, her breathing was laboured and when she coughed it was weakly, her lungs rattling with congestion.

He knew even before he touched her and sent his senses within that she was sicker than she ought to be. The chill fever always claimed a few Traitors each year. The old and the young were the most likely victims, and those already weakened from some other illness.

He also knew that he would have to face this at some point. Kalia had known it too. He had already decided what he would do. But he would not do it now. Not while all these people were watching him so closely.

And not, he realised, until he’d had a chance to ask Tyvara if he’d guessed correctly what the consequences would be.

*   *   *

As the Guild House slaves began serving dinner, Dannyl was surprised to hear Tayend’s voice in the corridor.

“Then I’ll join him,” Tayend said. A moment later he stepped into the main doorway of Dannyl’s rooms. “Would you like some company for dinner?”

Dannyl nodded and gestured to a nearby stool. He had feared that he and Tayend would have an argument or some sort of confrontation, but nothing of the sort had happened and so far they had settled into their new roles without any conflict. And perhaps, since Tayend was so often out visiting Sachakans, it made sense to take advantage of the chance to catch up on ambassadorial business.

“No Ashaki to visit tonight?”

Tayend sat down and shook his head. “I asked Achati for a night off. I’m surprised he didn’t invite you out instead.”

Dannyl shook his head. “I’m sure he has other people to see than us Ambassadors. You’ve been getting along with the Sachakans very well.”

A slave hurried into the room with a plate and knife for Tayend, so that he could begin serving himself from the platters of food the others were offering.

“I have, haven’t I? It certainly appears so. Or am I wrong in assuming that? From what Ashaki Achati tells me, you were popular when you first arrived. Perhaps I, too, will fall out of favour.”

“You don’t have an assistant for anybody to abduct.”

“No. Though I could do with one – preferably of the kind that nobody would want to kidnap.” Tayend grimaced. “I want to work out what the situation is here, before I get anybody else involved. Whether it was safe. How things worked.” He moved some of the spicier meat onto his plate, then some stuffed vegetables, before indicating that the slaves could leave.

“I suspect finding out how things really work would take quite a few years.”

Tayend smiled crookedly. “Even so, I think I’ve worked out some things,” he said. “How about I tell you what I’ve guessed and you tell me if I’m right.” Popping food into his mouth, Tayend chewed and regarded Dannyl expectantly.

Dannyl shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Tayend swallowed, drank a mouthful of water, then cleared his throat. “I’ve worked out that you and I are no longer a couple.”

Surprise was followed by a flush of guilt. Dannyl forced himself to meet Tayend’s eyes. Tayend’s gaze was steady.

“I guess not,” Dannyl replied. Rather lamely, he added silently.

“I worked that out when you put me in the guest rooms,” Tayend added. “And don’t tell me it would have caused a scandal if I’d slept in your bed. The Sachakans knew all about us before you got here.” He speared another portion off his plate.

Dannyl coughed in protest. “They might still have disapproved – enough to demand we be replaced, or to refuse to deal with us.”

“There’s nothing to make deals over. We have no work to do. They don’t need to trade with our countries. Having us here is a gesture of goodwill, nothing more. Other than that, our value to the Sachakans is merely as a novelty or entertainment. I suppose it has taken you longer to work this out.” Tayend waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve also worked out that Achati is a lad, and rather fancies you.” His eyes narrowed. “I haven’t quite worked out if you fancy him in return.”

Once again, Dannyl felt his face warming, but this time not out of guilt.

“Achati is a friend,” he said.

“Your only friend among the Sachakans,” Tayend continued, pointing his knife at Dannyl for emphasis. “You won’t be able to string him along forever. What are you going to do when he gets sick of waiting? He doesn’t seem the sort of man I’d want to make angry.”

Dannyl opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. “You once would have said that about me,” he managed.

Tayend smiled. “Then I got to know you, and you’re not at all scary. Sometimes you’re even a little pathetic, always worried about what people think, burying yourself in your research to make yourself feel worthy.”

“It’s important research!” Dannyl objected.

“Oh. Yes. Very important. More important than me.”

“You were interested in it too, once. As soon as it stopped being about roaming around having adventures and started being about hard work, you didn’t care for it any more.”

Tayend’s gaze flashed with anger, but then he hesitated, and looked away. “I suppose it must look that way. To me it felt like I had nothing more to contribute. The writing part was always yours. Once I was out of the Grand Library, I was a poor excuse for a scholar.”

Indignation faded at Tayend’s assessment of himself. “You were never a poor excuse for a scholar,” Dannyl told him. “If I had known you were still interested in the research, I would have found something, some way, for you to stay involved.”

Tayend looked up and frowned. “I thought you were keeping me out. Going to Sachaka without me confirmed it.”

“It was … I believed it was dangerous here for you.”

“You certainly had me worried. When my king approved of my proposal to be the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka I was sure I had taken on something much more dangerous than this has turned out to be, so far.”

“How did you convince him?”

“I didn’t. Others did.” Tayend shrugged. “It seems everyone thought it was a great idea to send someone here now that Kyralia had done so, but nobody was stupid enough to suggest it in case they were given the job.”

“Who supported you?” Dannyl asked, mainly out of curiosity.

Tayend smiled. “That would be telling.” He looked down at his plate. “We should eat or the food will go cold.”

Dannyl snorted softly. “Elynes and their convoluted politics.”

“We are good at it – and it has been of benefit here. I might even be able to keep you out of trouble.”

Returning to his half-eaten meal, Dannyl considered what his former lover had said. “So did you come all this way only to see what I was up to?”

Tayend’s eyes narrowed again. He didn’t answer immediately, instead chewing thoughtfully. “No,” he said eventually. “When you left, you made me see that I was bored. Turns out you are right: having a purpose does make life more interesting.”

“And that purpose is?”

Tayend was chewing again.

Being the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka, Dannyl answered. He had to admit, he was impressed at Tayend’s daring, and the flamboyant man was well suited to the job. He did have a good grasp of politics – even if he did often choose to ignore social taboos and traditions – and he was very perceptive about people.

But I hope not too perceptive, when it comes to Achati.

Dinner with Naki and her father was always filled with long silences. Lord Leiden always asked how their studies were going, and Naki’s answers were usually polite but short. He also enquired after Lilia’s family, but she did not see them often so there was not much to tell him, and he did not seem that interested in her answers anyway.

This time, Lilia felt as if the dinner had stretched on for hours longer than usual, and the pretence of interest for the sake of manners had started to irritate her. Even the excellent food did not make up for the boredom. She wasn’t sure if it was the long days of anticipation that had made her impatient to be alone with Naki, or if she was picking up on Naki’s mood.

Her friend was definitely in an odd frame of mind. Naki’s answers to her father’s questions had been shorter than usual – verging on snarly. At one point she’d asked him about someone and he’d winced, frowned at her disapprovingly, and changed the subject. To Lilia, however, she was overtly friendly, leaning over and patting her on the leg, winking at her or pulling faces. Lilia was relieved when the meal had finally ended.

Naki led her upstairs to her bedroom as usual. As soon as the door closed, Naki began pacing and broke out into a tirade of curses unlike anything Lilia had heard since one of her visits to the wharves in her childhood.

“What’s wrong?” Lilia asked.

Naki sighed and turned to her. “I can’t tell you the details. All I can say is that he found out about a little project I’ve had going on the side, and to punish me he took something – no, he stole something – from me.” She clenched her fists and stalked to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Looking up at Lilia, her expression changed to a forlorn one. “You know, he only gives me enough money to pay for what I need at the University. If I want to have any fun I have to find some other way to pay for it. And now I don’t have such a way.”

The brazier house. The wine she sneaks into the Guild. She’s always paid for it. I haven’t paid for anything. Lilia felt a pang of guilt. She moved over to the bed and sat down beside her friend.

“What about the allowance we get?”

Naki grimaced. “You get it; I don’t. Because I’m from one of the Houses I don’t get anything. My family is supposed to pay me an allowance instead.”

“You’ve always paid for things,” Lilia began. “I should—”

“No!” Naki headed her off. “Don’t go offering to pay for my little indulgences.”

“Our indulgences,” Lilia corrected. “At least let me pay for them until you … find another way to earn some money. It would be nice to be able to spoil you for a while.”

Naki gazed at Lilia in surprise, then her lips curled in a wide smile. “Oh, Lilia. You are so good.” She wrapped her arms around Lilia and hugged her.

Lilia hugged her friend back. The simple warmth of the embrace filled her with happiness. As Naki began to pull away, she let go, but the other girl only leaned back a little. Lilia looked up to find Naki staring at her intently, her expression thoughtful.

Then Naki leaned in and kissed her.

Once again, all the sorts of hopes and ideas that the other novices disapproved of came rushing into Lilia’s mind, and her heart began beating very fast. She kissed back, not daring to think what might happen next, and not wanting to risk spoiling the moment.

Inevitably, Naki broke the kiss. Her eyes were dark and her expression impossible to read. Lilia wanted to tell her she loved her, but she hesitated, afraid that she was wrong and Naki would be repelled.

Suddenly Naki grinned and leapt off the bed.

“Let’s go to the library,” she said. “I have some roet stowed there.”

Can’t we do anything without roet? Lilia pushed the sullen thought aside and stood up. “All right …”

Naki grew even more fey and restless as they crept quietly to the library, her movements all agitation and excitement. Once she had a brazier burning, she urged Lilia to breath in the smoke deeply. They settled into two large chairs.

“Your father won’t come in here?” Lilia asked, before the drug stopped her caring enough to worry about it.

“He’ll be asleep,” Naki replied. “He was complaining, before you arrived, about how it had been a long day and he was so tired.”

They relaxed for a while, enjoying the roet, then Naki got up and moved over to the glass-topped table. She leaned on it, gazing down at the contents, then straightened as if coming to a decision and opened the side. Reaching inside, she took something out, and as she started back toward the chairs Lilia saw that it was the book Naki had shown her previously. The one that contained instructions on using black magic.

A faint unease stirred within Lilia, but she was feeling too lazy to even frown.

Naki dropped back into her chair with a sigh. She lifted the book and regarded it thoughtfully. Opening it, she gently turned the pages.

“I could probably quote whole sections of this.”

“How often have you looked at it?” Lilia asked.

“More times than I can remember.” Naki shrugged. “My father should know that if he says I’m not to do something I’ll take it as a challenge.”

“Have you read the whole thing?”

Naki looked up at Lilia and smiled. “Of course. It’s not a big book.”

“So you’ve read the bit … the part …”

Naki’s smile widened. “The part about black magic. Yes. I have.” She looked down. “It’s amazingly straightforward. I’ve often wondered if I could do it, using these instructions.”

“But you can’t learn black magic from a book,” Lilia reminded her. “It has to be taught mind to mind.”

“That’s true. I wonder why they bothered writing it down, then.” Naki flicked through the pages, then held the open book out to Lilia. “What do you think?”

Despite the roet, Lilia hesitated. Even to read about black magic was forbidden.

“Go on,” Naki said. “I’ve always wanted to show someone and get their opinion, but I never trusted anybody enough.”

Lilia’s heart lifted and she smiled at Naki as she reached out to take the book. She trusts me. She thinks my opinion is worth something. Looking down at the open page, she started to read.

… means by which the body achieves this are not so much understood as sensed. So it is, too, with the higher magics. In early training, an apprentice is taught to imagine his magic as a vessel – perhaps a box or a bottle. As he learns more he comes to understand what his senses tell him: that his body is the vessel, and that the natural barrier of magic at the skin contains his power within. And so it is that if he should happen to encounter a breach of another person’s barrier (as in the ritual of higher magic) he can extend his senses into the other’s body in a quite different way to Healing, detecting the power within, not the physical body. He can also influence this power, removing or adding to it. While it is possible to sense how much power a person contains, it is not possible to judge how strong he is. You may sense the physical exhaustion of a man who has been stripped of his magic, which suggests that once the magical energy is removed the physical energy is tapped, but if not depleted to the point of physical impact you cannot sense if magic has been removed at all. It is also difficult to sense and manipulate magic simultaneously with sensing and manipulating the physical body through Healing …

The author rambled on about Healing from that point. His writing is terrible, Lilia mused. It just goes on and on and never comes to the point. There are no paragraph breaks. She flicked through the pages. None in the entire book.

“Well? What do you think?” Naki asked, slipping some more roet into the burner.

Lilia turned back to the page on black magic and made herself read it again. “There’s not much.”

“More than anyone’s told us before,” Naki pointed out. “I’ve tried sensing my magic the way it describes.”

Lilia looked up. “And?”

Naki smiled. “I think I’ve got the knack of it.” She leaned forward. “Try it.”

“Now?” Lilia protested weakly. She felt too lazy to be attempting any mind tricks.

“Yes. It’s easy once you have the right idea. And it’s a real head-spinner when you’ve got a bit of smoke in you.” Naki’s eyes sparkled.

Shrugging, Lilia closed her eyes. She struggled against lethargy, then brought up an image in her mind of the door she had been taught to see as the entry point to her magic. She opened it and felt her senses tingle and the effect of roet subside a little.

As always, she imagined a room inside herself, small and sparsely furnished, which reminded her both of the tiny bedroom she had shared with her siblings and of her room in the Novices’ Quarters. It was filled with a warm light.

But the book says this is just a way to visualise my power. The real walls are the barrier at my skin. So I should be able to …

She let the walls go, and they faded into darkness. The warmth and glow of the light slowly faded from her sense of touch or sight, leaving only an awareness of another kind. She reached out and felt the boundaries of it. They weren’t leg and arm shaped, she found, and yet … she had a sense of her physical form as if a faint outline of herself was imposed over the magic within her.

For a measure of time she pondered this, then she remembered Naki and drew her awareness back out of herself.

“That’s … amazing,” she breathed.

Naki smiled. “You got it? I knew you would. You’re too clever.” She got up and came closer, leaning on the arm of the chair, reaching out and turning Lilia’s hands so she could read the book. “Let’s try something else. Let’s see if you can sense my magic.”

“But … you’d have to cut yourself for me to be able to do that.”

Naki leaned close. Her breath smelled of roet. Her lips curled in an inviting way. “I’ll do that for you. I’d do anything for you.”

Lilia stared at her friend, feeling her heart warm and expand. “I’d do anything for you,” she replied with feeling.

Naki’s smile widened with delight. “Let’s do it,” she said. She cast about, then danced over to the glass-covered table and reached inside again. Whatever she’d taken was small and hidden in her palm. “It’s old, so I don’t know if it’s sharp enough … ow! Yes, that worked.”

Perching on the chair arm again, Naki held out her hand. A tiny knife lay there, and a small red line seeping little beads of blood marred her skin. Lilia felt a chill that threatened to clear her head.

“Go on. Before it heals up again.”

I’d do anything for you. Reluctantly, Lilia took the knife in one hand and clasped Naki’s hand in the other. She closed her eyes.

It was not hard to return to her new awareness of her magic. Somehow she knew where to send her mind to find her hand. And then she sensed it. The presence of another was faint … except there. The cut felt like a slash of light in her mind. It attracted her like the promise of sunlight at the end of a tunnel. When she reached it … Naki.

The other girl radiated a familiar restless excitement and curiosity, with an undertone of anger – old and directed elsewhere, so most likely her lingering anger over her father.

—Have some of my power, Naki’s voice said at the edge of Lilia’s mind.

A flash of magic leapt from the break in Naki’s barrier into Lilia’s. At once she understood how easy it would be to reach through and draw that energy within herself. But she didn’t want or need to do it. Drawing back from Naki’s presence, she opened her eyes.

“I think it worked. Except … it’s too easy.” She frowned. “I can’t be doing it right.”

A finger was tracing a lazy pattern along her arm and hand. She looked down, then up at Naki. The girl’s eyes were burning with eagerness. “Let me try.” She gave Lilia a meaningful look. “We do this together.”

Lilia felt a surge of affection. Picking up the little knife, she clenched her teeth then ran it across the back of her arm. Naki beamed at her, then gently touched the cut. As she closed her eyes, Lilia did the same, wondering how it would feel to be the one whose barrier was damaged.

This time her awareness instantly took the new form. The breach in her defences was easy to locate; it roused a sense of urgency that made her feel edgy. Suddenly she felt Naki’s presence again, but this time there was no sense of her emotions.

A strange weakness, like the disconnection from will that roet brought, came over her and she sensed energy flowing out.

But as quickly as it began, it stopped. She felt Naki let go of her arm, and drew her consciousness back to the physical world. Her friend was frowning and shaking her head.

“I don’t think it worked.”

“No?” Lilia said in surprise. “I’m sure I felt you taking power.”

Naki shook her head again. Her lips formed a small pout and she walked over and flopped into her chair. “I couldn’t sense anything. Not the breach in your barrier. Not you.” She sighed. “All the years I’ve wanted to try it … and now that I have someone I trust to try it with it doesn’t work …”

“Well, if it was that easy it would be possible to learn it from a book. We can try again, if you like,” Lilia offered.

Naki shook her head. She looked at the brazier sullenly, then used a little magic to open it and stamp out the burning contents. Getting up, she stowed it away.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Relieved, since she was starting to get the dizziness and headaches that meant she’d had a little too much roet, Lilia got up and followed her friend out of the library. Naki passed her bedroom and entered the guest room where Lilia slept when she stayed over. She went straight to an elaborately carved chest, dug beneath some bundles and produced a bottle of wine.

“Thirsty?”

Lilia hesitated, then nodded. Though her head was still spinning a little from roet, she was very thirsty. Naki opened the bottle and raised it to her lips. After drinking a mouthful, she grinned and handed it to Lilia, the contents sloshing as she did. “No glasses in here. Father has forbidden wine and roet, but I have friends among the servants.”

Lilia gulped awkwardly from the bottle. With a sigh, Naki flopped down onto the bed. She waved the bottle away as Lilia offered it back.

“He’s not my real father,” she murmured. “Mother married him after my real father died. When she died, Leiden got everything she had, including me. We never liked each other. He’ll marry me off as soon as I graduate, to the first person who asks, just to get rid of me.” She sighed again.

Setting the bottle aside, Lilia lay down beside her friend. “That’s awful.” The thought of Naki being married off to a man, who she clearly would never desire, made Lilia’s heart ache. If he does it after she graduates … that’s half a year away! Would they still be able to see each other? Could they keep their love secret?

“I wish he was dead,” Naki murmured. She turned her head to look at Lilia. “You said you’d do anything for me. Would you kill him, if I asked?”

Lilia smiled and shrugged. The wine was going to her head and she had no energy to form a reply. There must be another way to solve Naki’s problems. Murder is a bit extreme. But what if there wasn’t? Could I use black magic and hide it? Make it look like an accident? Naki was murmuring something, but the words were distant and took too much concentration to understand.

Mind full of dark thoughts, Lilia slipped into strange and vivid dreams where she ridded Naki of all her problems, and they lived a life of love and secrets in a house full of staircases and hidden doors and cabinets filled with frustratingly cryptic books.