Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 03] - The High Lord

by Trudi Canavan

  The house Tayend’s directions led Dannyl to was a typical magician-designed mansion. Impossibly fragile balconies fronted the street. Even the door was magician-made—a sheet of delicately sculpted glass.

  A long moment passed before there was any response to Dannyl’s knock. Footsteps could be heard approaching, then a shadowy figure appeared beyond the glass. The door opened. Instead of a doorman, Tayend greeted Dannyl with a grin and a bow.

  “Sorry for the slow service,” he said. “Zerrend’s entire household has left for Elyne, so there’s no one here but…” He frowned. “You look terrible.”

  Dannyl nodded. “I was up all night. I—” He choked as emotion welled up and cut off the words.

  The scholar ushered Dannyl inside and closed the door. “What happened?”

  Dannyl swallowed hard and blinked as his eyes began to sting. All night he had remained in control, comforting Yaldin and Ezrille, then Dorrien. But now…

  “Rothen is dead,” he managed. He felt tears spill out of his eyes. Tayend’s eyes widened, then he stepped close and embraced Dannyl.

  Dannyl froze, then hated himself for doing so.

  “Don’t worry,” Tayend said. “As I said, no one is here except me. Not even servants.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dannyl said. “I just—”

  “Worry that we’ll be seen. I know. I’m being careful.”

  Dannyl swallowed hard. “I hate that we have to be.”

  “So do I,” Tayend said. He leaned back and looked up at Dannyl. “But that is how it must be. We’d be fools to think otherwise.”

  Dannyl sighed and wiped his eyes. “Look at me. I am such a fool.”

  Tayend took his hand and pulled him through the guestroom. “No, you’re not. You just lost an old and close friend. Zerrend has some medicine for that, though my dear second—or is it third—cousin might have taken the best vintages with him.”

  “Tayend,” Dannyl said, “Zerrend left for a good reason. The Sachakans are only a day or two away. You can’t stay here.”

  “I’m not going home. I came here to see you through all this, and I will.”

  Dannyl pulled Tayend to a halt.

  “I’m serious, Tayend. These magicians kill to strengthen themselves. They’ll fight the Guild first, because it is their strongest opponent. Then they’ll look for victims to replace the power they’ve lost. Magicians will be useless to them, as we’ll have exhausted our strength fighting them. It’s ordinary people they’ll target, particularly those with undeveloped magical ability. Like you.”

  The scholar’s eyes widened. “But they won’t get that far. You said they’d fight the Guild first. The Guild will win, won’t it?”

  Dannyl stared at Tayend and shook his head. “From the instructions we’ve been given, I don’t think anyone believes we can. We might kill one or two of them, but not all. Our orders are to abandon Imardin once we’ve exhausted ourselves.”

  “Oh. You’ll need help getting out, if you’re exhausted. I’ll—”

  “No.” Dannyl took Tayend’s shoulders. “You must leave now.”

  The scholar shook his head. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

  “Tayend—”

  “Besides,” the scholar added. “The Sachakans will probably invade Elyne next. I’d rather spend a few days here with you and risk an early death, than return home and hate myself for abandoning you for a few extra months of safety. I’m staying, and you will just have to make the best of it.”

  After the darkness of the sewers, the sunlight was dazzling. As Sonea climbed out of the hatch, she felt something under her boot and stumbled, then heard a muffled curse.

  “That was my foot,” Cery muttered.

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Sorry, Cery, or should I call you Ceryni now?”

  Cery made a noise of disgust. “I’ve been trying to shake that name all my life, and now I have to use it. I’m sure a few of us would like to say some rough words to the Thief who decided we should all go by animal names.”

  “Your ma must have been able to tell the future when she named you,” Sonea said. She stepped aside as Akkarin emerged from the tunnel.

  “She could tell from one look which cappers would run off without paying,” Cery said. “And she always said my da would get into some rub.”

  “My aunt must have the gift, too. She always said you were trouble.” She paused. “Have you seen Jonna and Ranel, lately?”

  “No,” he said, bending to lift the sewer hatch back into place, “not for months.”

  She sighed and felt the knowledge of Rothen’s death like a weight lodged somewhere inside her body. “I’d like to see them. Before all this—”

  Cery held up a hand—a signal for silence—then pulled her and Akkarin back into a recessed doorway. Gol hurried back from the alley entrance to join them. Two men entered the alley and moved quietly toward them. As they drew near, Sonea recognized the darker of the faces. She felt a hand push her gently in the small of her back.

  “Go on,” Cery whispered in her ear. “Give him the fright of his life.”

  Sonea glanced back to see his eyes glittering with mischief. She waited until the two men drew level with her, then stepped into their path and pulled back her hood.

  “Faren.”

  The two men dropped into a crouch and stared at her, then one drew in a quick breath.

  “Sonea?”

  “You still recognize me, after all this time.”

  He frowned. “But, I thought you…”

  “Left Kyralia?” She crossed her arms. “I decided to come back and settle a few debts.”

  “Debts?” He glanced at his companion nervously. “Then you have no business with me.”

  “No?” She moved closer to him, and was gratified to see him take a step back. “I seem to remember a little arrangement we had once. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, Faren.”

  “How could I forget?” he muttered. “I remember that you never upheld your end of the deal. In fact, you burned down more than one of my houses while I was protecting you.”

  Sonea shrugged. “I suppose I didn’t prove to be all that useful. But I don’t think a few burned houses justified selling me to the Guild.”

  Faren took another step backward. “That was not my idea. I had no choice.”

  “No choice?” she exclaimed. “From what I’ve heard, you made quite a profit. Tell me, did the other Thieves take a commission out of the reward? I heard you got all of it.”

  Faren swallowed audibly, backed away even farther.

  “As compensation,” he said in a strangled voice.

  Sonea took another step toward him, but then a spluttering came from the doorway. It quickly turned into a laugh.

  “Sonea,” Cery said. “I should hire you as a messenger. You’re quite scary when you want to be.”

  She managed a grim smile. “You’re not the only one who’s said that to me lately.” But thinking of Dorrien only brought Rothen to mind again. She felt the weight of grief again, and struggled to ignore it. I can’t think about that now, she told herself. There’s too much to do.

  Faren’s yellow eyes were narrowed at Cery. “I should have known you were behind this little ambush.”

  Cery smiled. “Oh, I only suggested she have a bit of fun with you. She deserves it. You did hand her over to the Guild, after all.”

  “You’re taking her to the meeting, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right. She and Akkarin have lots to tell them.”

  “Akkarin…?” Faren repeated in a small voice.

  Sonea heard footsteps behind her and turned to see that Akkarin and Gol had emerged from the doorway. Akkarin had shaved off the short beard and tied his hair back, and looked like his former, imposing self again.

  Faren took another step backward.

  “It is Faren, isn’t it,” Akkarin said smoothly. “Black, eight-legged and poisonous?”

  Faren nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “Well, except for the
legs.”

  “Honored to meet you.”

  The Thief nodded again. “And you.” He looked at Cery. “Well. This meeting should be entertaining. Follow me.”

  Faren started toward the end of the alley, his companion giving Sonea and Akkarin a curious glance before hurrying after. Cery glanced at Sonea, Akkarin and Gol, then beckoned. They followed him into a narrow gap between two buildings at the end of the alley. Halfway down, a large man stepped out to block Faren’s way.

  “Who are these?” the man demanded, pointing at Sonea and Akkarin.

  “Guests,” Cery replied.

  The man hesitated, then reluctantly stepped into a doorway. Faren followed him inside the building. A short corridor followed, then a staircase. At the top Faren stopped outside a door and turned to regard Cery.

  “You should ask first, before bringing them in.”

  “And let them argue about it for hours?” Cery shook his head. “We don’t have the time.”

  “Well, I warned you.”

  Faren opened the door. As Sonea followed the pair, she took in luxurious surrounds. Cushioned chairs had been arranged in a rough circle. She counted seven occupied chairs. The seven men standing behind them were the Thieves’ protectors, she guessed.

  It was not hard to guess which Thief was which. The thin, bald man was obviously Sevli. The woman with a pointy nose and red hair was probably Zill and the man with the beard and bushy eyebrows had to be Limek. Looking around, Sonea wondered if the physical similarities to the animals had produced the Thieves’ names, or if they had groomed themselves to look like a creature they favored. Perhaps a little of both, she decided.

  The occupants of the chairs were staring at her and Akkarin, some with expressions of anger and outrage, others with puzzlement. One face was familiar. Sonea smiled as she met Ravi’s eyes.

  “Who are these people?” Sevli demanded.

  “Cery’s friends,” Faren said. He moved to one of the empty chairs and sat down. “He insisted on bringing them.”

  “This is Sonea,” Ravi answered for the other Thieves’ benefit. His eyes shifted to Akkarin. “Which means you must be the former High Lord.”

  Outrage and puzzlement changed to shocked surprise.

  “It is an honor to meet you all at last,” Akkarin replied. “Especially you, Lord Senfel.”

  Sonea looked up at the man standing behind Ravi’s chair. The old magician had shaved off his beard, which was probably why she hadn’t recognized him at first glance. The last time she had seen him, when Faren had tried to blackmail him into teaching her magic, he had worn a long white beard. She had been drugged, in a vain atempt to control her magic, and had thought she’d dreamed the encounter until Cery had spoken at the meeting later. He stared at Akkarin, his face pale.

  “So,” he said, “you’ve finally found me.”

  “Finally?” Akkarin’s shoulders lifted. “I’ve known about you for a very long time, Senfel.”

  The old man blinked in surprise. “You knew?”

  “Of course,” Akkarin replied. “Your faked death was not very convincing. I’m still not sure why you left us.”

  “I found your rules…stifling. Why didn’t you do anything?”

  Akkarin smiled. “Now, how would that have made my predecessor look? He didn’t even notice you were missing. You were not doing any harm here, so I decided to let you stay.”

  The old magician laughed, a short, unpleasant bark. “You do make a habit of breaking the rules, Akkarin of Delvon.”

  “And I was waiting until I had need of you,” Akkarin added.

  Senfel sobered. “The Guild have been calling you,” he said. “It would seem they have need of you. Why don’t you answer?”

  Akkarin looked around the circle of Thieves. “Because the Guild must not know we are here.”

  The Thieves’ eyes sharpened with interest.

  “Why is that?” Sevli asked.

  Cery stepped forward. “Akkarin’s story isn’t quick. Can we get some more chairs?”

  The man who had met them at the door left the room, then returned with two simple wooden chairs. When all were seated, Akkarin glanced around the circle of faces, and drew in a deep breath.

  “First let me tell you how I encountered the Sachakans,” he began.

  As he briefly described his encounter with Dakova, Sonea watched the Thieves’ faces. At first they listened calmly, but when he described the Ichani their expressions changed to alarm and concern. He told them of the spies, and how he had recruited Cery to hunt for them; at that they looked at Sonea’s old friend with surprise and interest. Then, as he told of their exile in Sachaka, Sevli exclaimed in disgust.

  “The Guild are fools,” he said. “They should have kept you here until they knew if the Ichani were real.”

  “It may be fortunate that they did not,” Akkarin said. “The Ichani do not know I am here, and that gives us an advantage. While I am stronger than any Guild magician, I am not strong enough to defeat eight Ichani. Sonea and I might be able to defeat one, if he is separated from the others. If the Ichani know we are here, however, they will band together and hunt us down.”

  He looked around the circle. “That is why I have not answered the Guild’s calls. If the Guild knows I am here, the Ichani will read it from the mind of the first magician they capture.”

  “But you have allowed us to know this,” Sevli observed.

  “Yes. It is a risk, but not a great one. I expect the people in this room will keep themselves well out of the Sachakans’ way. Any other rumors of our presence that reach the general population may be dismissed as wishful thinking.”

  “So what do you want from us?” Ravi asked.

  “They want us to help them separate a Sachakan from the others,” Zill answered.

  “Yes,” Akkarin confirmed. “And to give us access and guides to the Thieves’ Road throughout the entire city.”

  “It doesn’t cover all parts of the Inner Circle,” Sevli warned.

  “But the buildings are mostly empty,” Zill said. “They’re locked, but we can fix that.”

  Sonea frowned. “Why are the buildings empty?”

  The woman looked at Sonea. “The King told the Houses to leave Imardin. We were wondering why, until Senfel told us of the defeat at the Fort and Calia just now.”

  Akkarin nodded. “The Guild will have realized that everybody in Imardin is a potential source of magic for the Ichani. They will have advised the King to empty the city.”

  “But he has only told the Houses to leave, hasn’t he?” Sonea said. As the Thieves nodded, she felt a flare of anger. “What about the rest of the people?”

  “With the Houses leaving, everyone else has figured out that something’s up,” Cery told her. “From what I hear, thousands of people have been packing up and heading out into the country.”

  “What about the dwells?” she asked.

  “They’ll dig in,” Cery assured her.

  “In the slums, outside the city walls, where the Ichani will arrive first.” She shook her head. “If the Ichani decide to stop and strengthen themselves, the dwells won’t have a chance.” She felt her anger rising. “I can believe the King would be this stupid, but not the Guild. There has to be hundreds of potential magicians in the slums. They are the ones who should be evacuated first.”

  “Potential magicians?” Sevli frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The Guild only look for magical potential among the children of the Houses,” Akkarin said, “but that does not mean that people among the other classes don’t have magical potential. Sonea is the proof of that. She was only allowed to join the Guild because her powers were so strong that they developed without assistance. There are probably hundreds of potential magicians in the lower classes.”

  “And they’re more attractive victims to the Ichani than magicians,” Sonea added. “Magicians use up their powers fighting back, so by the time they’re defeated there’s not much power to take.”


  The Thieves exchanged glances. “We thought we’d be ignored by the invaders,” Ravi muttered. “Now it seems we are going to be harvested like some kind of magic crop.”

  “Unless…” Sonea caught her breath and looked at Akkarin. “Unless someone takes their power before the Ichani do.”

  His eyes widened as he realized what she was suggesting, but then he frowned. “Would they agree to it? I will not take the strength of any Kyralian by force.”

  “I think most would, if they understood why we wanted it.”

  Akkarin shook his head. “But it would be impossible to organize. We’d have to test thousands of people, and explain what we’re doing to all of them. We may have only a day to prepare.”

  “Are you considering what I think you’re considering?” Senfel asked.

  “Which is what?” Sevli looked confused. “If you understand this, Senfel, explain it to me.”

  “If we can find the slum dwellers who have magical potential, Akkarin and Sonea can take their power,” Senfel said.

  “We not only rob the Ichani of their harvest, but our magicians grow stronger,” Zill said, sitting straight in her seat.

  Our magicians? Sonea suppressed a smile. Looks like the Thieves have accepted us.

  “But will the dwells agree to it?” Akkarin asked. “They have no great liking for magicians.”

  “They will if we ask them to,” Ravi said. “No matter what the dwells think of us, they do acknowledge that we fought for them during and after the first Purge. If we call for helpers in the fight against the invaders, we’ll have thousands of volunteers by the end of the day. We can tell them we have a few magicians of our own. If they think you’re not from the Guild, they’ll be even more likely to agree to help you.”

  “I see one problem,” Sevli said. “If we do this, thousands of dwells are going to see you. Even if they don’t know who you are, they’ll have seen your face. If the Ichani read their minds…”

  “I can help there,” Senfel said. “I will test all of the volunteers. Only those that have potential will see Sonea and Akkarin. That will mean only a hundred or so will know they’re here.”

  Cery smiled. “See, Senfel. You did come in useful.”