The Rogue (36 page)

Dannyl stared at the man. Achati’s eyes were hard and his expression challenging.
He means what he says, but then, wouldn’t I do the same, if we became enemies? Probably. I would feel bad about it, but … how likely is it?
He pushed that thought aside.
What is true is that I’d feel bad about it no matter how close we were, and it’s not that we could ever do anything to make others doubt our loyalties, like having children or getting married …

It wasn’t as if Achati wanted any commitment. For once, that appealed. While Dannyl ought to have been repelled by the man’s admission that he’d kill him if ordered to … it was strangely exciting.

“So … you wouldn’t hesitate? Not even a little bit?” he asked.

Achati smiled and pushed away from the wall, moving to the centre of the pool.

“Well, maybe a little bit. You could come here and convince me how long I should hesitate for.”

Chuckling at his friend’s invitation, Dannyl moved to the middle of the pool. For a few heartbeats they stared at each other. Time seemed to slow and stop.

Then both froze as muffled voices came from the direction of the bathhouse entrance. They quickly moved apart and stood up so they could see who was there. Dannyl was relieved to see the door was still closed.

The voices fell silent, then there was a tapping at the door. Achati glanced at Dannyl, his annoyance gratifyingly obvious. “I gave the slaves orders that we weren’t to be disturbed unless it was urgent.”

“You had better find out what’s wrong,” Dannyl replied.

Achati stepped out of the pool and brought a coat to him with magic. He shrugged into it and moved to the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened. Dannyl quickly schooled his face as he saw Tayend peer around it.
The more annoyed I look, the more he’ll suspect.
Inside he felt as if his blood was boiling with fury.

“Am I interrupting?” Tayend said. “The slaves said you were here, and after you said we had to try these baths it seemed rude not to come and see them.”

“Of course not,” Achati replied. He waved Tayend toward the cleansing bath and explained the procedure.

Then, as he walked back to join Dannyl, he smiled and silently mouthed a promise.

Later.

Not long after arriving at the Care Room, a magician came to escort Lorkin to the stone-makers’ caves. He was a little reluctant to leave, as the woman who had replaced Kalia was still working out where everything was stored and learning which ailments the patients occupying the beds were recovering from. But she shooed Lorkin away when the escort arrived.

“Go,” she’d ordered. “I will work it all out.”

“I’ll come back later,” he promised.

The magician escort had smiled shyly at him and said little as she led him to the caves. It was so unusual for a Traitor woman to be shy and awkward that he resisted trying to draw her into a conversation. If growing up in a place where women were powerful hadn’t helped to make her bold and confident, then the awkwardness must run very deep – and challenging it might do more harm than good.

She led him deep into the city, further inside the mountain than most Traitors liked to live. The passage became winding, and they passed openings into caves on either side. He’d figured it prudent not to show too much interest in them the last time he’d passed, when being escorted out of the cave Evar had shown him. Now he was free to glance inside.

The caves were of varying sizes and shapes. Some effort had obviously been put into levelling the floor in places, but the uneven and angular walls had obviously been left untouched. In a larger room, Lorkin noted that walkways had been fixed to the walls to allow access to higher parts of them.

In all of the caves he saw spreads of glittering colour, on walls, ceilings and even, in a few instances, on floors.

None of the caves had doors. It seemed a strange omission in a part of the city that contained such magical secrets.
But perhaps the secrets can’t be extracted from the stones. Perhaps they can only be passed on mind to mind, like black magic.
Or perhaps they were kept in books in a secure room somewhere.

The winding corridor ended at another cave. The guide continued through it, to where another cave joined it, then another. There had been fissures in the walls and floor of the passage, easily stepped over. Now they passed over bigger cracks via bridges made of slabs of the same stone as the walls.

And then they arrived at a door.

The escort knocked, then smiled at him and walked away quickly, before he could thank her. He turned back to find the door open. A voice called out.

“Come in Lorkin.”

He recognised the voice as Speaker Savara’s. Stepping inside the room, he saw that she and Speaker Halana were sitting in two seats of a ring of five. Savara gestured to one of the chairs, and he sat down.

“Are you aware of the responsibilities of each of the Speakers?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes. Well, at least some of them. Speaker Riaya organises meetings, elections, judgements and such, Speaker Kalia oversaw health, Speaker Shaiya controls the production of food and supply of water, and you are in charge of defence.”

“That is correct. Speaker Lanna’s responsibility is living arrangements and Speaker Yvali’s is education. Speaker Halana’s,” she nodded at the other woman, “is stone-making.”

He looked at Speaker Halana and inclined his head in respect. “So you will be my teacher?”

The woman nodded. “I will. If you agree to it.”

He smiled. “I can think of no reason why I would not.”

Halana did not return his smile, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. Something about her expression sent a warning chill up his spine. He frowned and looked at Savara.

“
Is
there are a reason why I would not?”

She smiled wryly. “Possibly. I may have mentioned before that I once travelled to Kyralia. I visited Imardin for a while, before and during what you call the Ichani Invasion.”

He stared at her in surprise. “You saw the invasion?”

Her expression was serious now. “Yes. We keep an eye on the Ichani, since they are always on the move and sometimes venture too close to Sanctuary. Mostly they are harmless, too occupied in fighting each other to cause us trouble. But any signs that they are uniting, as you can imagine, are alarming. Fortunately for us, the last time they did that their intent wasn’t to cause us trouble. Unfortunately for your people, their attention had turned to Kyralia.

“We noticed that they were sending slaves into Kyralia, so I went to investigate their purpose. The events that I witnessed made it very obvious that the Guild does not use, and in fact forbids, higher magic.”

Lorkin nodded and looked down. “It is called black magic. And it is no longer forbidden.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And yet its use is restricted. Only a few know how to use it.”

“Yes.”

“And if our spies are correct, the knowledge that those few have is incomplete, too.”

He met her eyes. “I don’t know, since I’m not one of the few allowed to know it.”

“You’re
not
,” she said, holding his gaze, “or
weren’t
?”

He looked away. She was asking … what was she asking? If he still considered himself a Guild magician. But there was an unspoken question behind the one she’d asked him: did he want to retain the option of being one again? If he learned black magic, he might never be able to rejoin the Guild.

She could be simply offering to teach it to him
instead
of stone-making, but he doubted that.

This could be a test to see if he meant to take the stone-making knowledge straight back to the Guild. But that didn’t make sense. The queen hadn’t said anything about him not being allowed to pass on the knowledge. But she hadn’t said he could, either.

“I am asking you this,” Savara said quietly, “because to teach you stone-making, we will have to teach you higher magic.”

He looked up at her in surprise. “Oh.”

“And I’m asking if that would prevent you from ever returning to the Guild.”

“I see …” Suddenly it all made sense. The queen felt that he was owed something of equal value in compensation for the Healing knowledge that had been stolen from him. The only magic he did not have was black magic and stone-making. Since he needed the former in order to achieve the latter, they both came at the same price: he could never go home.
And that must mean they have considered the possibility that one day they might let me go …

How would the Guild react to him knowing black magic? Would they forgive it, when he revealed he had found a new way for them to defend themselves? Then his heart sank.
I was hoping to find a way that would replace black magic, not use it. If stone-making involves using black magic, then I have failed. The Guild might not accept it.

He realised, then, that he didn’t truly believe that. The Guild would never turn down the opportunity to learn a new kind of magic, especially if
using
the stones didn’t involve using black magic. It would only have to restrict who could
learn
it.

If they wanted the benefit of the magical gemstones, the Guild would have to accept that Lorkin had learned black magic in order for them to have it. If they didn’t …
well, they can have me and gemstones, or neither. Just as I have to accept that I can have stone magic and black magic, or nothing at all.

And if the Guild rejected him … well, he would return to Sanctuary. Traitor society was not without its flaws, but what land or people was? Yet the thought of never returning to Imardin brought a pang of regret. There must be some way he could visit his mother, Rothen and his friends.

That is something I’ll have to work out later. This is more important. It could be disastrous if the Ashaki gain this magic before the Guild does. I can’t contact Osen and ask him to hold a meeting to decide. I have to take this opportunity to learn stone-making, and hope that the Guild doesn’t reject me for it.

He looked at Savara.

“Knowing black magic might prevent me from returning permanently,” he told her. “I may only ever be able to visit. I’m willing to take that risk, if you assure me that there will always be a home for me in Sanctuary.”

She met his eyes levelly, then looked at Halana. The other woman nodded. Savara turned back and smiled. “So long as you never break our laws, you will be welcome to live among us.”

“Thank you.”

“And now,” she said, standing up and gesturing to Halana. “Now it is time we completed your education.” She patted him on the shoulder as she passed. “No doubt you’re more worried about the higher magic. Don’t worry. It’s the easy part.”

Halana rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. “Don’t pay any attention to her,” she said. “She’s right that higher magic is easy to learn but stone-making really isn’t that difficult, if you have patience, diligence and focus.”

Lorkin glanced back at Savara to see the woman shake her head in disagreement before she closed the door. “And if you don’t?” he asked, turning back to Halana.

The woman shrugged. “That depends on the stone you’re raising. If it’s meant to produce heat and you lose concentration … can those Healing powers of yours treat burns?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

She smiled. “Well, then. With an advantage like that, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

It hadn’t surprised Sonea to find that Cery wasn’t waiting under the sweet shop, and that instead there was a message instructing them how to find him. She, Dorrien and Nikea had disguised themselves as a couple and their daughter looking to expand their trade in gathering and preparing rag for paper production. The message led them to a bolhouse, through a small night market and a bathhouse, before they found themselves climbing out of a basement to find that Cery had taken over a neat and surprisingly well-decorated home for the night.

Where the occupants were, Sonea was reluctant to ask. Signs of them were everywhere, from the toys visible through the open door of a bedroom, to the food half eaten at the table. They found Cery in a darkened room, sitting by a window. Gol had met them in the basement, and warned them not to create any lights.

“The meeting is supposed to take place in that room over there, on the second floor,” Cery told them, pointing out of the window.

Looking across, Sonea saw the lamp-lit guest room of a house across an alleyway. The alley was so narrow she could have stepped into the other room in a few strides, if there hadn’t been two walls between them.

They discussed how to approach the other building, and cut off the obvious escape routes. Cery hadn’t be able to get anyone close enough to check for hidden escape routes without them risking being seen. The house they were in got them as close as he dared. It was up to the magicians to find their way over to the room opposite, once the meeting began.

Sonea thrashed out a plan with Dorrien and Nikea, but they hadn’t a chance to put it in action. The room opposite remained empty.

The night passed slowly, and at every hour Cery grew increasingly withdrawn. He spoke less and less, and eventually they all remained silent, not wanting to voice their fears. Shoulders drooped and faces sank in disappointment as it became clear there would be no meeting, and no capture of Skellin or anyone else. When the walls outside the window began to lighten, Nikea finally broke the silence.

“What do you think? Should we conclude that the meeting was called off?”

All exchanged glances except Cery, who was staring at nothing.

“We’ll wait for news,” Sonea told him.

“If Anyi managed to slip away, or send a message through someone, where would they go?” Dorrien asked Cery.

Cery’s frown deepened. “She wouldn’t come here, or send a message here, in case it drew attention to us.” He rose, a movement that seemed abrupt after hours of stillness and silence. “Follow me.”

They obeyed, returning to the basement and retracing their steps to the bathhouse. There, the middle-aged woman who ran the house approached Cery nervously and handed him a slip of paper.