UNPLANNED ASSISTANCE

Standing outside the hunter’s shack, Lorkin looked around and wondered what time it was. All he was sure of was that the sun was up, because the fog around him was too light for it to have been illuminated merely by moonlight.

Should I stay here until it lifts?

Because of the storm that had delayed him and Tyvara, he was running low on food. While he was willing to go hungry for a day, he knew that, down at the end of the valley, Traitors disguised as slaves were waiting to meet him. The longer he took to arrive, the more likely they’d be missed at the estate they belonged to.

So long as I always go downhill, I shouldn’t get lost. Tyvara said I wouldn’t go astray if I travelled at night, because the road crosses the mouth of the valley. She said to just walk until I find it, then turn left and follow where it leads.

Surely the same instructions would apply now.

He looked back at the hut, mostly hidden by the fog. He’d buried the sledge under the snow, as instructed. Someone would take it back to Sanctuary soon enough, he guessed. He’d also left his pack and changed into the sort of clothes that hunters usually wore in winter – roughly made trousers and a tunic covered by a hooded cape of hides stitched together. His boots were made of skins with the fur on the inside. There were simple gloves – mere pockets of hide – as well. Hunters were another group of Sachakans that didn’t quite fit into the simple division of slaves and Ashaki. They were free men, but they weren’t magicians. They lived on estates in exchange for the pelts, meat and other products they produced, but they weren’t considered slaves. Since they spent much of the year in remote places, it would be hard for a master to maintain control of them. They also had an understanding of sorts with the Traitors, who left them alone so long as they kept away from certain areas in the mountains. Some actively helped the Traitors by allowing use of their huts – though they may not have had much choice about that. If they wanted to be free to hunt in the mountains, they had to stay on the right side of the magicians that lived there.

A hunter’s outfit was the perfect disguise for Lorkin. If any Ashaki saw him, they’d ignore him, and it wasn’t too strange for a hunter to be out and alone. Not that anybody was going to see him today.

Turning his back on the mountains, he started walking. The fog was so thick he had to constantly watch the ground for obstacles. After stumbling into depressions and the edge of the river, hidden under the snow, he broke a branch off one of the scraggly trees and used it to probe the drifts in front of him as he walked. It slowed his progress, so he was not expecting to find the road for some time. After the relief of a flat stretch of ground was followed by a sudden drop, however, he stopped and looked around. Exploring left and right, he discovered that the flat area continued in both directions, and was of a consistent width. It had to be the road.

Tyvara said to turn left. If I’m wrong and this isn’t the road, the flat area will soon end, or I’ll encounter the side of the valley.

So he started along the direction she’d said. After several hundred paces he relaxed a little. The surface continued straight and, aside from the occasional rut or puddle, remained level. With no obstructions to beware of, he was able to look around and search the fog for some sign of the Traitors waiting to meet him.

After a while he began to worry that he would pass them, unnoticed. Though the fog had a deadening effect on sound, his footsteps crunching through the snow and finding the occasional puddle seemed loud to him, and he had to resist trying to be quieter.

At least I should hear a carriage coming soon enough to get off the road and hide. It won’t matter either if there’s nothing to hide behind. All I have to do is crouch down and stay still, and if anyone sees me they’ll probably think I am a rock.

A voice called out behind him, and Lorkin froze. He could not make out what it had said, but it had definitely been calling to someone.

To me?

He considered what Tyvara had said about the likeliness of encountering Ashaki. “You shouldn’t encounter any Ashaki. They don’t tend to travel at this time of year.” He doubted anyone would willingly venture out in this fog, and he’d heard no sound of carriage wheels or hoof beats. The only people likely to be out in such weather were the people looking for him. The voice had come from behind him. Maybe they’d seen his tracks and realised he’d passed them.

The voice called out again, this time further away. He started forward. Within a few steps he saw something move. He made out a figure coming toward him. A man, walking confidently. Wearing trousers and a cropped jacket.

Ashaki.

He stopped, but it was too late. The man had seen him. Lorkin’s heart began to race. Should he throw himself to the ground and hope the man thought he was a slave? But a hunter wouldn’t do that.

“You’re not Chatiko,” the man said, stopping. He came closer, bending forward as he stared at Lorkin. “I know you. I’ve seen you before.” His eyes widened with realisation and surprise. “You’re that Kyralian magician! The one who went missing!”

There was no point pretending otherwise. Tyvara’s words rose in his memory.

“If you do, tell them who you are and request to be taken back to the Guild House. They’ll be politically obliged to help you.”

“I am Lord Lorkin of the Magicians’ Guild of Kyralia,” he said. “I formally request that you return me to the Guild House in Arvice.”

The man smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, it’s your lucky day. We’re heading that way ourselves. We were going to wait until the weather cleared, but Master Vokiro insisted we leave at first light. I am Master Akami.”

Lorkin searched for something to say. Two of them are Masters. They aren’t as highly ranked as Ashaki. That could be to my advantage. He managed a smile. “Thank you, Master Akami.”

The Sachakan gave Lorkin a familiar amused look at his Kyralian manners, then gestured back down the road. “The carriage is this way. Master Chatiko stopped to relieve himself.” Lorkin fell into step beside the man. “He was taking so long I went looking for him. See how lucky you are? We could have driven by and not seen you. Ah! He’s back.”

Another man stood by the carriage. As he saw Lorkin, his gaze moved from Lorkin’s head to his feet, an expression of puzzlement and distaste on his face.

“Look what I found,” Master Akami declared. “A lost Kyralian magician! And I bet he has some tales to tell. He’ll keep us entertained all the way back to the city!”

No sooner had the trunks been hauled onto the deck of the Inava than the anchor was pulled up and sails unfurled. Dannyl, Tayend and Achati were ushered to the one place on deck where they were out of the way of the captain and his slave crew.

Achati looked at Dannyl.

“So, are you content with what you learned here, Ambassador?”

Dannyl nodded. “Yes, though I would like to return and record more of these Duna legends. I asked to hear the ones about magic, but there would be plenty more that aren’t. I guess that’s a book for someone else to write.”

Achati nodded. “Perhaps your assistant might write such a book. She seems very interested in the tribes.”

Dannyl felt a small pang of guilt for leaving Merria behind. But someone had to remain at the Guild House. “Yes, she is.”

“And what about you, Ambassador Tayend?” Achati said, turning to the Elyne.

Tayend waved a hand in a vague gesture that might have meant many things. He looked a little pale, Dannyl noted.

“Have you taken the seasickness cure?” Achati asked.

“Not yet,” Tayend admitted. “I did not want to miss our last sight of …” He gulped and waved a hand at the valley. “I’ll take it once we leave the bay.”

Achati frowned with concern. “There will be some delay before it takes effect, and it won’t have a chance to if you can’t keep it down.”

“Ashaki Achati,” the captain called.

They all turned to see the man pointing out over the northern arm of the bay, his eyes bright and a grim smile on his face. Black clouds darkened the sky, and the horizon was invisible behind streaks of rain.

Achati chuckled. “A storm is coming.” He took a step toward the captain. “I will give you my assistance.”

The man’s eyebrows lowered. “You have experience?”

Achati grinned. “Plenty.”

The man nodded and smiled again. As Achati turned away, his eyes shone with excitement. Dannyl’s skin pricked.

“We’re not turning back?” Tayend asked, with an edge of panic to his voice.

“No,” Achati replied. “You’d best take that cure now.”

“You and the captain are pleased about this, aren’t you?” Dannyl asked as the Elyne hurried away.

Achati nodded. “We are. Storms are common at this time. We’ve been taking advantage of them for centuries. Any Ashaki who travels by ship – any who value their life, that is – learns how to ride them. With magic to hold the ship together and an experienced captain to steer it, you can sail from Duna to Arvice in a few days.”

As if to emphasise the point, a blast of wind battered the ship as it emerged from the protection of the bay. Dannyl and Achati caught hold of the rail to steady themselves.

“Can I offer any assistance?” Dannyl asked. He had to shout to be heard over the wind.

Achati’s laugh held a hint of both affection and scorn. “Don’t worry. The king will ensure that what magic I and the captain use will be replaced.”

In other words, only a higher magician has the strength for this.

It had never been so obvious to Dannyl that he was no black magician. Oddly, that made him reluctant to slink away to the protection of his cabin.

“I’ll stay and watch, then,” he said.

“Later,” Achati said, shaking his head. “Seasickness cures can only do so much. Tayend is going to need your help.”

Dannyl met the Sachakan’s eyes. He saw concern there. Sighing, Dannyl nodded in agreement and set off after the Elyne Ambassador.

As Sonea neared the end of the corridor, she saw, through the University entry hall, a carriage pull up. In the brief time the vehicle’s window was visible, she glimpsed a familiar face.

Dorrien.

She cursed under her breath. If she crossed the hall he would see her and want to talk. She was in no mood for such an encounter, rife with unspoken questions, guilt and desire. The dread that had settled on her during the Hearing had kept her on edge all day.

So she turned and moved back down the corridor again, slipping into the nearest empty classroom. The novices were long gone. The lines of tables and chairs brought back memories, both pleasant and unpleasant.

Or would it be more accurate to say tolerable and unpleasant? While I did enjoy learning magic, I didn’t have much fun doing it alongside my fellow novices, even when they weren’t making life difficult, snubbing me or, in Regin’s case, finding new and increasingly humiliating and painful ways to torment me.

After she had been accepted back into the Guild, completing her training had been difficult, the lessons having to be taught without any teacher communicating more complicated concepts mind to mind. She’d managed it, despite that. And the grief of Akkarin’s death. And being pregnant with Lorkin.

Regin has turned out all right, she found herself thinking. She smiled wryly. I never thought I’d think that. Or miss him.

Which she did, in a way. It had been better, during the initial search, having a helper who wasn’t besotted with her. Things had become much too complicated with Dorrien. She wished they could hurry up and find Skellin and Lorandra. Or that Dorrien’s daughter could join the Guild sooner, so that he and Alina could return to the country.

I guess this means I’m not in love with him, she realised. Perhaps I might have been, if there weren’t so many factors spoiling everything. Or maybe … maybe if it were love then those things wouldn’t be able to spoil it. People have affairs all the time, it seems. The idea of betraying a spouse or causing a scandal isn’t enough to deter them.

She sighed and moved to the classroom door. Dorrien should have passed through the hall by now. She paused as she heard voices and footsteps approaching, not wanting to be seen hiding.

“… this convinced you that you need to stop taking roet?” a woman’s voice asked.

The voice was familiar. Even as she realised it was Lady Vinara’s, she heard another voice reply and felt a shock of recognition.

“I am convinced, but this may not be the best time,” Black Magician Kallen replied as they passed the classroom. “I don’t need to be distracted by—”

“There is never a good time,” Vinara replied. “Do you think I don’t hear this every day from …?”

The Healer’s voice faded out of hearing. The pair were striding quickly toward the entry hall, on the way to Osen’s office. As Sonea had been.

She counted to fifty, then stepped out and continued on her way. Triumph and worry mingled as she considered what she had overheard. Triumph that she had been right: Kallen’s use of roet was a problem. Worry that she was right: Kallen’s use of roet was a problem. Which, because he was a black magician, made it her problem, too.

The door to Osen’s office was swinging shut as she arrived, so she pushed through into the room. Rothen was there already. She smiled at him as she passed. The Heads of Disciplines were in their usual trio of chairs. Kallen stood by the wall. The Administrator was seated. He met her eyes and they exchanged a nod, then she took her usual place, standing to one side of his desk.

The few missing Higher Magicians arrived soon after, and Osen began the meeting by explaining what had happened before the Hearing – Dannyl’s information, summoning Kallen, Naki, Sonea and Lilia, and what Kallen saw in Naki’s mind once her ring was removed.

“The king has not granted Naki a pardon,” Osen told them, when he was finished.

Silence followed that announcement. Sonea examined the faces of the magicians. Some were nodding and unsurprised. Others looked shocked. Rothen was watching her, his expression sympathetic and troubled. She felt her stomach sink and her mouth went dry.

What will I do if they ask me to perform the execution? She had already decided that she would not protest if they ordered it, but if they gave her the opportunity to avoid it, she would. There is no right decision in this case. Either I do it and have another death on my hands, or I refuse and force another to take on that burden.

The other would most likely be Kallen. He had never killed anyone before – certainly not with black magic, and if Naki was to die without her magic being loosed then her powers would need to be drained beforehand. Naki was no invader; she was a young woman and Kyralian. Despite Sonea’s dislike of Kallen, she would not wish the burden of such an execution on him.

If I do it, people will see me in a different way. Ruthless and cold. If I turn from that duty, they’ll see me as disloyal and cowardly. They’ll—

“I have discussed this with Black Magician Kallen and High Lord Balkan,” Osen said. “Kallen will remove Naki’s power, Balkan will apply the penalty.”

Sonea blinked in surprise even as she felt relief flood through her. Exhaled breaths combined to create a soft hiss in the room.

“The king has agreed that it should not be a public execution,” Osen continued. “Despite the deterrent effect one might have.” There were nods of agreement all around. “It will occur later tonight. The existence of these gemstones that block a mind-read must remain a secret,” Osen added firmly. “The knowledge of them must not extend beyond us here. The Sachakans are not aware of them and if they learn of this kind of magic the consequences could be disastrous.”

He took time to meet the eyes of every magician, until he’d had a nod or murmur of understanding from them all; then he relaxed and invited questions. Sonea did not hear what was asked, too caught up in her own relief.

She realised belatedly the sense behind Osen’s decision: Balkan, as High Lord, was the Guild’s leader and trained as a Warrior, so it was fitting he should enforce the law. She and Kallen had been accepted as black magicians only so that they could defend the Guild against invasion. Kallen’s removal of Naki’s power was a practical measure, little different to what he and Sonea did for dying magicians to ensure they passed away without their remaining magic causing any destruction.

A foolish anxiety slipped into Sonea’s mind. Did they think I couldn’t or wouldn’t do it? Did they think I couldn’t be trusted?

Oh, be quiet, she told herself.

The meeting finished soon after. Rothen joined Sonea as she left the office.

“Going to the hospice tonight?” he asked.

They walked into the entrance hall and stopped at the open doors of the University. They both gazed out at the forest, which was dusted in snow.

“I don’t know,” Sonea replied. “I didn’t sleep today. I could go back to my rooms, but that won’t achieve anything. I could go to the hospice, but I suspect I’ll be … a bit too distracted.”

He hummed. “I think we’ll all be, until the deed is done.”

“And for some time after. How long has it been since the Guild had to execute a member – or former one?”

He shrugged. “A long time. Long enough I’d have to look it up in a history book.”

Sonea glanced behind them. The entry hall was empty, the Higher Magicians having all left now.

“I admit that I’m relieved at their choice of executioners,” she murmured. “Though it will still be hard on Kallen to be there and take part. He’s never … he’s inexperienced.”

“Many feel they have asked a lot of you already,” Rothen replied quietly. “They feel guilty about Lorkin.”

She turned to meet his gaze. They should feel guilty about sending Lorkin off to Sachaka, she thought triumphantly, but not without bitterness. Rothen’s eyes were steady and hinted at more. She wondered how often the Higher Magicians discussed her.

“Is this why they haven’t expelled Lorkin from the Guild officially yet?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Or is it they’re afraid of what I’d say and do if they did?”

Rothen chuckled. “That, too.” His expression became serious. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you some sad news – about someone else, not Lorkin.”

“What is it?”

“Regin’s wife tried to kill herself.”

“Oh! That’s terrible.”

“Apparently she’s been attempting to for years. This is the first time it’s been, well, unavoidably public. There had been rumours, but …” Rothen grimaced. “I didn’t like to pay much attention to them.”

“Poor Regin,” she said.

“Yes. But … not for quite the reason you think, I suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Rothen sighed. “According to rumours, each time she had attempted suicide she did so after he found out about and chased off one of her lovers.”

Sonea winced. “Oh.”

“From the reports I’ve heard, he’s on his way back to Imardin and has asked for rooms in the Guild. He has given his house in Elyne to one daughter, and his Imardin family home to the other.”

“That is one angry man.”

“Indeed.”

Sonea felt a small, somewhat inappropriate and slightly treacherous spark of hope. Also a man needing something to occupy himself – like a hunt for a rogue. She hooked her arm around Rothen’s and tugged him back toward the University corridor.

“Are there a lot of married people having troubles at the moment, or does it just appear that way to me?”

“Who else is having troubles in their marriage?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Just … people. As for magicians moving back home, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Something that we should be able to achieve without causing offence if we work together.”