“Well done,” Lady Rol-Ley said, nodding to Damend. “Third round goes to Damend. Froje and Madie will fight next.”
The two girls grimaced, rose and made their way over to the teacher reluctantly. Lilia let the inner shield around Pepea disappear and waited for instructions from the teacher. Ley was of the Lans people, who were a race that prided themselves on their warrior skills – in both men and women. Yet they produced few magicians, and not very strong ones, so while Ley was fit and good at strategy, she needed help to run classes safely.
Ley glanced at Lilia. “Protect Madie. I’ll shield Froje.”
Reaching out to lay a hand on Madie’s shoulder, Lilia sought a sense of the other girl’s power so that she could create an inner shield attuned to it. If it wasn’t in tune, it would prevent Madie striking.
She sensed nothing. Madie was rigid and tense. Looking up, she saw her old friend abruptly look away, avoiding her eyes. The girl’s power was suddenly there, clear to her senses. Annoyed, Lilia created the inner shield.
“I don’t see the point of this,” Froje complained. “I know all magicians are supposed to keep their fighting skills up, in case we’re invaded again, but we’re both terrible at it. We’d be more of a liability in battle than a benefit.”
Ley chuckled. “You might surprise yourself.”
“I doubt it. Surely we’d have no power to fight with anyway. We’d have all given it to Black Magicians Sonea and Kallen.”
“You could have hours – even half a day – to recover some strength before a battle began, so you wouldn’t be completely powerless. Even if Sonea and Kallen were defeated, our enemy would be weakened by the fight. It would be a pity if we could not finish them off and save ourselves, just because some of us were too lazy to keep up our warrior skills. Now go take your positions.”
The two girls shuffled away to the entrance of the Arena. Ley shook her head and sighed.
“They wouldn’t be so bad at it if they practised,” she said.
Lilia shrugged. “They’d practise if they liked it. And they’d like it if they were good at it.”
Ley glanced at Lilia and smiled. “Do you like Warrior Skills?”
“I’m not good at them. I never have worked out what sort of strike to use, or when.”
The teacher nodded. “You don’t have the mind of an attacker. You’re strong, though, and you pay attention. It makes you a good defender.”
A warm feeling of gratitude filled Lilia. So I’m not terrible at this, but neither am I going to be a great Warrior. There was a kind of relief at knowing that her decision to not choose that discipline was the right one. Now I just have to decide between Healing and Alchemy.
At least she had a whole year and a half to make up her mind. Naki had only half a year, and she was torn between Warrior Skills and Alchemy. She was worried she would come to regret choosing the former, though it was her favourite and best discipline, because the only useful thing she could do with it during peaceful times was teach, and she didn’t think she’d be a good teacher.
Whereas I find Alchemy more interesting, but it seems so indulgent when I could be more useful to others as a Healer.
If they both chose Alchemy, it would be something they had in common during the year Lilia would continue at the University. Naki would be a graduated magician free to do whatever she chose.
A stab of worry went through Lilia’s gut. She couldn’t help fearing that Naki, once she had graduated, would grow sick of Lilia always being tied down to lessons, and find someone else to befriend. But I’m getting ahead of myself, she thought. I’m not even sure Naki wants to spend that much time with me anyway. I don’t know if she loves me in return.
As if to argue with that thought, a memory flashed through her mind of Naki pressing a finger to her lips, then leaning across the carriage seat and pressing it to Lilia’s in turn. She’d dropped Lilia off at the Guild after they’d left the brazier house. Lilia had been unable to hide her disappointment. She’d hoped Naki was taking her back to her house.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Naki had said. “Remember, we must not show a hint that we might be anything more than friends. Do you understand? Not a hint. Not even when you think you’re alone. It’s the watcher you don’t see who catches you out.”
“More than friends.” Surely that means Naki loves me, too.
A sudden impact on her shield snapped her attention back to the Arena and she instinctively drew and sent more magic to it.
“First round goes to Froje,” Lady Rol-Ley announced. “Begin round two.”
The day after their visit to the brazier house, Naki had said Lilia could stay over at her house at the end of the week. Lilia tried not to think about that. Instead she took a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate on the two girls fighting in the Arena, and on keeping her shield strong.
But inside, her stomach fluttered with anticipation.
Once he opened the door Lorkin understood straightaway why Evar’s instructions had referred to the passage as a tunnel. The walls were roughly cut. For one long stretch it looked as if he was walking along a natural fissure, the floor filled in with slabs of stone and the roof gradually narrowing to a dark crack far above him. His guess was proven right when the floor abruptly ended. He peered over the edge and sent his globe light floating downward. The crack descended below the floor, which was, indeed, slabs of stone wedged between the walls. The distance of the drop below was impossible to guess at. The glow of his globe light did not penetrate far enough into the darkness.
Shuddering, he turned to a large hole carved into the rock to one side and stepped through into another roughly cut passage. This continued in a straight line for quite a distance, and he realised he must be far from the occupied caves of the city now.
I hope I’m not technically leaving the city, he thought. Then I’ll be breaking a rule. I could argue that I didn’t know the sewers were outside the city, but I don’t think as many Traitors would be so willing to believe in my innocence as last time if I’m found to be sneaking about again.
If only Tyvara was allowed to see him. He could have simply visited her then at her rooms. He would have liked to see what her rooms were like. What would they tell him about her?
Sometimes it feels as if I know too little about her, he thought. I only know what people tell me, and what I learned of her on the journey from Arvice to Sanctuary. People aren’t going to describe her rooms to me. I’m sure it would not make me love her less if she had terrible taste in furnishings or kept her rooms a mess.
The passage began to curve gently. After several hundred more steps he saw a light ahead. He shrank his globe light until it was just bright enough that he wouldn’t trip in the dark, and quietened his footsteps.
As he neared the end of the tunnel a rushing sound reached him. He peered out, but could see nobody close by. Emerging from the tunnel, he found himself on a ledge carved into the site of a huge, natural underground tunnel. The rushing sound abruptly grew louder and gained a rhythmic beat. He leaned forward to look down and saw a narrow but swiftly running river below; the ledge was several times the height of a house above it. A large water wheel pushed water out of a side tunnel to join the larger flow. This water was a darker colour.
That’s the sewer, he realised.
The air was not as fragrant as he’d feared, perhaps because of how far away the dark water and water wheel was. If you can operate such a mechanism from a distance, why wouldn’t you? And I suppose you could create a magical shield to keep the bad air away, too.
“Lorkin.”
He jumped at the voice and looked around, but could not see anybody.
“Up here.”
Looking up, he saw that two women were peering down at him from a ledge above, both sitting on a stone bench carved out of the rock. One was Tyvara and the other …
He blinked in surprise and dismay as he realised the other was the queen.
Recovering, he hastily performed the
hand-on-heart genuflection. The queen smiled and beckoned to him. He looked to either side. There were no stairs or ladder.
“You can levitate, can’t you?” Tyvara asked.
He nodded. Creating a disc of force beneath his feet, he lifted himself upwards until he was level with the ledge, then remained floating.
“Am I breaking any rule doing this?” he asked of the queen. “I know Tyvara isn’t supposed to talk to me.”
“Never mind that,” Zarala replied, waving a hand. “Nobody is here to see. Actually, we were just talking about you.”
He looked from her to Tyvara and back, noting the glint of humour in their gaze as he stepped onto the ledge. “All praise and admiration, I hope.”
“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Zarala laughed, the wrinkles deepening around her eyes.
Once again he found himself liking her automatically. He wondered where her helper was. How had she got here all on her own?
“So, why are you here?” the queen asked. She patted the seat beside her.
He looked at Tyvara as he sat down. “To thank Tyvara for a favour she did me.”
“Oh? What favour?”
“Some advice of a personal nature.”
Zarala’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Tyvara. The younger woman stared back at her with a challenge in her eyes. The queen’s smile widened and she turned back to Lorkin.
“It wouldn’t have had something to do with the state your friend Evar was in a few days ago, would it?”
He scowled. “I must say, my opinion of the Traitors was lowered when I learned there would be no punishment for it.”
The queen’s expression became serious. “He was not forced into it.”
“But surely to be left so exhausted is dangerous.”
“Yes, it was careless.”
“And deliberate?”
She gave him a stern look. “Be careful what you accuse others of, Lord Lorkin. If you make such claims you had best be able to prove them.”
“I’m sure Evar was the only witness, and is hardly going to cooperate. He seems to think being humiliated and harmed is the natural cost of bedding a woman.” He looked at Zarala, deliberately meeting her eyes.
She nodded. “Our ways are not without flaws. We may not be fair and equal in all things, but we are much closer to that ideal than any other society.”
“At least we have an ideal of equality,” Tyvara added. “A lot of the resistance to change comes out of the knowledge that we are the only people ruled by women. If we do not isolate ourselves we may end up like everyone else.”
“But we can’t stay this way forever,” Zarala continued, her expression sad. “We have only so much room. Only so much workable land.” She looked down at the sewer. “Even this has limits. Our predecessors carved out tunnels and changed the courses of rivers to carry away our detritus to the other side of the mountains. If we let it flow into Sachakan waterways the Ashaki might notice and follow it back to its source. But if we grow in numbers even the Elyne rivers may not be large enough to hide our waste, and they might start to wonder where it is coming from.”
“Some of us want to restrict the number of children we have,” Tyvara said. She looked at him. “Some even want to stop non-magicians having any children at all.”
The queen sighed. “They don’t see that such measures would still change who we are. Change is inevitable. Rather than let the ill consequences of neglect decide our future, we should choose to change ourselves.” She looked at him and smiled. “As your people have done.”
He stared back at her, wondering what changes she was referring to. The intake of novices from outside the Houses? Or – he felt a stab of alarm – the limited acceptance of black magic?
I didn’t think they knew about that …
“What changes would you choose to make?” he asked, to divert the subject.
She grinned. “Oh, you’ll just have to wait to find out that.” Slapping her knees, she looked from Lorkin to Tyvara. “Well, it is time I got on with my rounds and left you two together.”
As she began to rise, Tyvara slipped her arm under the old woman’s. Lorkin quickly did the same. Once standing, Zarala paused, then took a step forward. At once she began to float away from them. Lorkin looked at the shimmering air under her feet and smiled.
So that’s how she got up here.
“Don’t get too distracted, Tyvara,” she called over her shoulder. Then she disappeared into the tunnel, the faint glow of a globe light flaring into existence illuminating the walls for a moment.
Tyvara sat down. Lorkin followed suit.
“So … did Kalia let you out or did you sneak away?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Things got quieter, so I started pestering her with questions about the cures she was making.”
She smiled. “That’d do it. Why’d you come here?”
“To thank you. Thank you, by the way.”
“For the warning? I thought you said you had no intention of getting into anyone’s bed?”
“That’s correct.”
She regarded him thoughtfully, opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again.
“Unless you told me to,” he added.
Her eyebrows rose and a faint smile curled her lips, but then she looked away, down at the sewer. It was hardly a romantic distraction, so he decided to change the subject.
“So … you’re turning that wheel with magic?”
“That’s right.”
“It must get boring after a while.”
“I find it relaxing.” She looked up and sighed. “Sometimes too relaxing.”
“Shall I stay and keep you entertained?”
She smiled. “If you have the time. I don’t want to keep you away from the Care Room.”
He shook his head. “Kalia said to stay away for a few hours.”
Tyvara made a rude noise. “She’s not the only one who knows the recipes for cures. It would be stupid to have only one person know that sort of thing.”
“It would.” Lorkin shrugged. “But I suppose if I’m not willing to share Guild healing secrets then why should she share hers? Besides, it does give me some free time to come and see you. Even if I’m not supposed to.”
She smiled. “If we’re discovered, we claim you did all the talking, and I never said a word.”
“We can. Or that if you said anything, I never heard it. Are you sure anybody will understand what we mean, rather than assume I was just being a typical male?”
She laughed. “I can’t promise that, but I’m sure we’ll get our real meaning across eventually.”
“We might get snow tonight,” Rothen said.
Sonea glanced at him, then grimaced. “First snow of the year. When I see it, I can’t help remember the Purge. Even after all these years.”
He nodded. “I do, too.”
“You know, there are adults who never experienced it.”
“Who will never appreciate how horrible it was – and that’s a good thing.”
“Yes. You want your children to take it for granted that they have a better life than you, but at the same time you hope they don’t take it for granted in case they let bad things return out of ignorance.”
“Such worries turn us into boring old men and women,” Rothen said, then sighed.
Sonea narrowed her eyes at him. “Who is calling who ‘old’?”
He chuckled and said nothing. She smiled and looked back at the University building. How long had it been since she’d noticed the elaborate façade that had once awed her? I’m taking wonderful things for granted, too.
“Here they come,” Rothen murmured.
Turning back, Sonea saw that the Guild Gates were opening. A carriage waited behind them. Soon the entrance was clear and the horses stirred into motion, hauling the vehicle through and along the road to the University steps.
The driver drew the horses to a stop. The carriage swayed and settled, then the door opened and a familiar robed figure leaned
out and grinned at them.
“Nice of you to wait up for me,” Dorrien said. He clambered down, then turned and reached out, taking a gloved hand that emerged from the doorway. A sleeve appeared and a woman’s head. She peered out, blinking first at Sonea, then at Rothen.
A look of recognition came into Alina’s eyes as she saw her husband’s father, and she smiled faintly. She looked at Sonea again and a line between her eyebrows deepened. Her gaze dropped to Sonea’s robes and she schooled her expression into a serious one.
Dorrien helped her to the ground, then offered the same assistance to his two daughters. The eldest, Tylia, emerged first. She favoured her mother in looks, Sonea noted. Yilara, the younger, ignored her father’s offered hand and jumped down the steps nimbly. And that one favours Dorrien, Sonea mused.
Introductions and welcomes followed. Sonea was amused to find that Alina said nothing in response to her greeting, then busied herself checking that her daughters were presentable. Once satisfied, she took Dorrien’s arm and looked at Sonea with an expression that was almost defiant.
I wonder what I’m doing wrong, Sonea thought. Or if there’s something about me that she finds off-putting. She resisted the urge to laugh bitterly at her thoughts. Well, there are these black robes and the magic they represent.
Or it could be that Dorrien had told Alina that he and Sonea had nearly formed a romance of sorts. That they had once kissed.
Surely he hasn’t. He might have told her about our very brief connection, but nothing more than that. He’s smart enough to know you don’t torment the woman you love with the details of the encounters you had before her. She remembered her own jealousy, when Akkarin had told her of the slave girl he had loved. Despite knowing that the girl was long dead, she had not been able to help feeling a twinge of resentment.
“Black Magician Sonea!” a new voice called.
She turned toward it, and saw a messenger hurrying in her direction.
“Yes?” she replied.
“A message … arrived … Northside hospice,” the man said, between deep breaths. “I came straight … on foot, no delays.” Reaching her, he handed her a folded piece of paper.
The Rogue Page 13
