The Ambassador''s Mission

  She stared at him, struggling to hold back a surge of hurt and anger that he was arguing against her. But if Rothen doesn’t think I should go …

  “I don’t believe Lorkin would have gone with this woman if there hadn’t been a good reason.”

  “What if that reason was he had no choice?” she argued.

  “Then we must trust Dannyl. You know he would have told us straightaway if the situation was truly grim. If Lorkin is a hostage, then you will not be able to do more for him than Dannyl. Dannyl has experience at negotiation. He has the help of the Sachakans.” His voice hardened. “If you barge in there you could make the situation much worse, not just for Lorkin but for Kyralia and Sachaka.”

  Suddenly she felt weak and drained. Helpless. What is the use of all this power if I can’t use it to save my own son?

  But perhaps he doesn’t need saving, a faint voice said somewhere in the back of her mind.

  Osen sighed. “I’m afraid I must forbid you to leave, Black Magician Sonea. Or to speak of this to anyone but myself, the king, High Lord Balkan and Lord Rothen.”

  “Not even Akkarin’s family?”

  He shook his head. “Not even them. As Lorkin’s mother you have a right to know what is happening, and I will keep you informed of the situation. I will be discussing ways that we may assist Lord Dannyl with High Lord Balkan tonight, including sending someone to help him. If we do that, I will let you know as many details as it is safe to reveal.”

  You had better, she thought. “I will look forward to regular reports,” she said stiffly.

  He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Good night, Black Magician Sonea.”

  She followed him to the door, opening it with magic. Before he stepped out, he nodded politely to her. Then he was gone and she shut the door on the sound of his footsteps striding away down the corridor.

  She turned to Rothen.

  “I’m going anyway,” she told him, then headed for her bedroom. A small trunk sat upon the clothes cabinet. She lifted it with magic and set it on the floor.

  “You won’t be let back in a second time,” Rothen told her, from the doorway.

  She moved to the cupboard and opened it. It was full of black robes. “I don’t care. I’ll find Lorkin, then we’ll go travelling. It’ll be their loss, not mine.”

  “I didn’t mean the Guild. I mean the country. The Allied Lands.”

  “I know. There are lands beyond the Allied ones, you know.”

  “Yes. But while the Guild can train another black magician to replace you, you will not find another Guild to replace it. You may not care about that, but will Lorkin?”

  She was still staring at the robes. They were not what a magician ought to wear when casting off the shackles of the Guild. She wasn’t sure what a magician ought to wear when rebelling and storming out of the country, only that these were definitely not appropriate. But they were all she had.

  I can’t believe I’m worrying about clothing right now!

  “You need to find the rogue, Sonea.”

  “Regin can find her.”

  “Cery doesn’t trust him.”

  “I don’t blame him,” she muttered. “Cery will have to make do.”

  Rothen sighed. “Sonea.” His voice now had a fatherly, stern tone.

  She crossed her arms, put on her best don’t-mess-with-me-I’ve-faced-worse-than-you-and-won stare, which made novices flinch and magicians reconsider their words, and turned to face him. “What?”

  As always, he remained unaffected.

  “You know you can’t go,” he told her. “You know you will more likely make Lorkin’s situation worse than better, and that after this is over he’ll need a safe, secure Guild to return to – with his mother in it.”

  She stared at him, then cursed.

  “Why are you always right, Rothen?”

  He shrugged. “I’m older and smarter than you. Now, you and I need to discuss and make less obvious and destructive plans. For a start, I think we should send someone to Sachaka to act on our behalf.”

  “Who?”

  He smiled. “I have a few people in mind. Come sit down and I’ll tell you.”

  CHAPTER 21

  WELCOME ASSISTANCE

  The stream did not look healthy, even in the soft light of approaching dawn. A mere trickle winding sluggishly along a shallow ditch, it was fringed with green slime and smelled of mould and rotten vegetation. Tyvara was unperturbed. She dropped into a squat and scooped up a palmful of water.

  Lorkin watched her stare at it for a moment, then gulp it down.

  “You’ll make yourself sick,” he told her.

  She looked up at him. “Don’t worry. I’m stripping it first.”

  “Stripping?”

  “Drawing out all the life within it. It’s still gritty with sediment, but that’s unpleasant, not dangerous. This is much faster and more efficient than what you do, since I’m taking energy, not using it. Are you going to drink? We can’t be sure when we’ll find water again.”

  Lorkin looked at her hands, still dirty from the water. “I thought blood was the only substance magic can be drawn through.”

  She smiled and scooped up more water. “You know that humans and most animals have a layer of magical protection that naturally sits about the skin?”

  “Yes.”

  “To reach past it you must break it, and the simplest way is by cutting the skin. Naturally that results in bleeding, so people think the blood is essential. It isn’t.” Her voice grew husky as she spoke. It had been too long since they’d found water. She paused to stare at the liquid cupped in her hands, then drank, before looking up at him again. “There are tiny forms of life in water – you can sense it even when you can’t see it – and they’re what make you sick. But they don’t seem to have a layer of protection, so it’s easy to draw their energy. You wouldn’t want to rely on such a feeble source, though.” She looked down. “Plants seem to have a weaker protection than animals. It’s possible to draw their power without cutting them, though it is slow and there’s so little to gain you wouldn’t bother.” She reached for another palmful of water.

  Lorkin sighed and sat down. He drew magic and gathered up a cup’s worth of water from the stream, holding it within an invisible globe of force. The liquid was cloudy and unappealing. Sending out more magic, he heated the water until it boiled.

  In Healing classes, where purifying water was taught, he’d been told it was best to boil the water for several minutes. But soon Tyvara had finished drinking and was watching him expectantly, obviously anxious to move on. He stopped heating the water and let it cool to a temperature he could bear to touch and drink. Thankfully by then the grit in the water had settled to the bottom, and he was able to scoop the cleaner water from the top. A few gulps later he was done, and they rose to their feet. Rays of sunlight were streaking through the tops of the trees that surrounded them. He hadn’t realised dawn had been so close.

  “Where next?” Lorkin asked.

  “Into the forest. I thought you’d appreciate sleeping above ground.

  He grimaced. Though they’d slept in a hole underground each day for several days, he had grown no more comfortable with the knowledge that he was one magical barrier away from being buried alive. “I certainly would.”

  “Come on then.”

  Stepping off the road, she led the way into the trees, and Lorkin followed. At first he stumbled over obstacles, dodging branches that Tyvara pushed out of her way which then sprang back at him, his thin shoes catching on rocks and the uneven ground threatening to unbalance him. It took all his concentration to avoid tripping over. Tyvara drew further and further ahead, until she noticed he was falling behind and stopped to wait for him to catch up.

  “Have you ever been in a forest before?” she asked.

  “Yes. There’s one in the Guild Grounds, but it has pathways.”

  “Ever left Imardin before this?”

  “No.”

  “Why not???
?

  Because my mother isn’t allowed to leave the city. But he couldn’t tell her that without explaining why, and he wasn’t supposed to reveal how few Kyralians knew black magic or how it was regarded.

  “Never had reason to.”

  She shook her head in disbelief, then turned and continued through the forest. This time she appeared to choose her steps more carefully, and their path became much easier. Then he realised that it was a path. A very narrow path, but clearly someone or something had come this way often enough to wear a track in the undergrowth.

  “Have you been here before?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “So you don’t know where this path goes.”

  “It’s an animal track.”

  “Ah.” He looked down and his heart skipped a beat. “So why are there shoe prints?”

  Tyvara stopped and looked back to where he was pointing.

  “The forest belongs to the Ashaki who owns this land. There will be slaves harvesting the wood, or hunting the animals that live here.” She frowned and looked around them. “I suppose this is as far as we can risk going. We should split up – but stay close enough that you can see and hear me. Look for thick vegetation. Or a hollow in the ground we could cover. If you find anything, whistle to me.”

  He headed off to the right of the track. After roaming about for a while he found a place where a huge tree had fallen long ago. All that was left of the tree was a massive stump. Roots splayed out like protective arms, and thick, low bushes had grown around the disturbed soil. Guessing there would be a hollow where the roots had once been, he pushed through the bushes. A hole, half as deep as he was tall, remained.

  Thick vegetation and a hollow, he thought with satisfaction. It’s perfect.

  Turning to look for Tyvara, he saw her walking twenty or so strides away. He whistled, and when she looked up he beckoned. She headed over to him and pushed her way through the bushes. Stopping at the edge of the hole, she examined it with interest. She sniffed the air.

  “Smells damp. You first.”

  Lorkin drew magic, created a barrier in the shape of a disc, and stepped onto it. He lowered himself into the hole. The soil beneath the barrier was soft, and flattened as he reached the bottom. Removing the barrier, he felt himself start to sink further. The soil wasn’t just soft, but waterlogged. Muddy water welled up and into his shoes. One foot touched firm ground but the other kept going, and he threw out his arms and tried to step sideways to catch his balance.

  But the mud held him firmly. He fell backwards and landed with a splash in a sticky, smelly mire.

  The forest echoed with Tyvara’s laughter.

  Looking up at her, Lorkin smiled ruefully. She has a great laugh, he thought. As if she doesn’t often laugh, but when she does she relishes it. He waited until she had stopped, then patted the mud beside him.

  “Come on down. It’s damp, but much softer than those holes in the ground,” he told her.

  She chuckled a little more, shook her head, then opened her mouth to speak. But something caught her attention. She looked up, then cursed quietly.

  “You!” a voice called. “Come here.”

  She did not look at Lorkin, but hissed words out between her teeth.

  “Ashaki. He’s seen me. Stay hidden. Stay here.”

  Then she walked away, disappearing through the bushes. Lorkin pushed himself up into a crouch. He listened carefully, and heard the tinkle of a horse’s harness somewhere behind him. Behind the fallen tree.

  Moving to the mass of roots, he straightened and peered through them. A Sachakan man was standing beside a horse, staring at something below him. His clothing was not the decorated garb of an Ashaki, but it was well made and more practical for riding.

  Then Lorkin saw the knife on the man’s belt. His mouth went dry.

  “Get up,” the Ashaki said.

  From the ground before him, Tyvara rose. Lorkin fought the urge to rush after her. She’s a magician. A black magician. She can look after herself. And probably more easily if she doesn’t have me to protect at the same time.

  “What are you doing here?” the man demanded.

  Her reply was meek and quiet.

  “Where’s your water bottle? Your supplies?”

  “I put them down. Now I can’t find them.”

  The man regarded her thoughtfully. “Come here,” he said finally.

  She took a step closer, her shoulders stooped. Lorkin felt his heart freeze as the man placed his hands either side of her head. I should stop this. He’ll learn who we are. But why would she let him read her mind? Surely once she knew what he intended she would have fought him off?

  After a moment the man let her go.

  “Seems you are as stupid as you say. Follow me. I’ll take you back to the road.”

  As the man turned away to mount his horse, Tyvara glanced back at Lorkin and smiled. The triumph in her expression blew away his earlier alarm. He watched as she meekly followed the man away into the forest. When they were no longer in sight Lorkin turned and sat down on one of the thicker lower roots of the tree.

  “Stay hidden. Stay here,” she said. I guess she means she’ll come back once the magician has led her to the road and gone on his way. He looked up at the position of the sunlight streaming between the trees and decided that, if she wasn’t back within what he estimated was an hour, he’d set out in search of her.

  It was a long hour. Time dragged by. Sunbeams raked the undergrowth with excruciating slowness. As the mud dried, he scratched and brushed it off his skin and clothes. He tried to stop himself imagining what might happen to her, if the magician discovered who and what she was. He tried not to worry that the magician would find out he was here, come back for him and …

  “Good to see you know how to follow orders,” a voice said behind him.

  He whirled about to find her standing on top of the stump, smiling down at him. Heart pounding in his chest, he watched her step out into thin air and float down to hover in front of him.

  “How did you do that?” he asked.

  She frowned and glanced at the shimmering disc of magic just visible beneath her feet. “Same way you did.”

  “Not levitation. Stopping him from reading your mind.”

  “Ah. That.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you remember me telling you we have a way of making mind-readers see what we want them to see?”

  He thought back to the first place they’d hidden, and of the other slave women. “Ah. Yes, I do. Some sort of blood gem, right?”

  She smiled. “Might be. Might not be.”

  Blood gem. Lorkin’s heart skipped. I could have used Mother’s ring while she was gone, but I forgot all about it! He’d been too concerned about Tyvara. He cursed under his breath.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “What if it had been me he’d spotted? My mind he’d read?”

  “I’d have stopped him.” She shrugged. “While it’s always best to avoid confrontation, that isn’t always possible.”

  “You’d fight him? Wouldn’t that draw attention to us?”

  “It might.” She waved a hand at their surroundings. “But we’re well hidden. I’d try to finish him off quickly.”

  “You’d kill him?”

  “Of course. He’d come after us if I didn’t.”

  “And when his body was discovered, someone else would come after us. Wouldn’t it be better overall if I could hide my thoughts?”

  She chuckled. “Even if I was prepared to give the Traitors another reason to be angry with me, even if I thought we couldn’t reach Sanctuary without me revealing this secret to you, I couldn’t do it. I simply don’t have the materials or the time.”

  He felt his heart skip. “It’s like a blood gem, isn’t it?”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Lie down and go to sleep, Lorkin.”

  He looked down at the mud, then up at her in disbelief.

  “I was only joking, when I said it mad
e a soft bed.”

  She sighed and waved a hand at him.

  “Stand back.”

  He obeyed, sitting back on his former perch and, guessing what she planned to do, lifting his feet and soggy shoes out of the mud. Soon the air above the sludge began to mist. For a while they were bathed in hot steam, then the air cleared and he saw that only cracked, dried earth remained. Tyvara stepped off the disc of magic under her feet onto the hardened ground. She tapped her foot.

  “Get some sleep while you can,” she said. “I’ll wake you in a few hours, then you can watch. I don’t think our host will return any time soon, but he clearly likes taking rides around his estate. We had better keep an eye out for him.”

  Sighing, Lorkin lay down on the hard ground, and tried to do as she suggested.

  A gentle autumn rain began to patter down on the garden at Sunny House, but the small stone shelter Cery and Skellin were sitting within kept them dry. Gol stood nearby, blinking rain out of his eyes as he watched Skellin’s bodyguard standing on the opposite side of the shelter. They were alone, the locals keeping indoors in the drab weather and the owner of the land mumbling to himself in another corner of the garden.

  As Cery finished his brief description of what he and Gol had seen from the roof of the pawnshop, Skellin looked thoughtful.

  “A woman, eh? Did you get a good look at her?”

  Cery shrugged. “It was dark and we were watching from above, but I reckon I could pick her again. She’s got dark skin and hair. About this tall …” Cery held out a hand to indicate.

  “Now that you know she has magic, how do you plan to catch her?”

  “Oh, I only have to find her.” Cery shrugged. “It’s up to the Guild to capture rogue magicians. Which is just as well, because if she is the Thief Hunter neither you nor I have a hope of stopping her.”

  Skellin’s eyes flashed with interest. “You’re working for the Guild!”

  “Helping the Guild. If I was working for them I’d expect to be paid.”

  “You’re not being paid?” Skellin shook his head and his expression became serious. “I suppose there are other benefits. When I heard about your family I figured you’d be looking for revenge. Your search for the murderer turned into a search for the Thief Hunter and now your search for the Thief Hunter has turned into a search for a rogue magician.”