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

by Trudi Canavan

  She found his heart at the same time as pain flashed across her arm. Deciding she could not Heal herself and harm him simultaneously, she concentrated on his heart. Once it stopped, what could he do?

  His grip tightened as she exerted her will. She heard him gasp in pain and opened her eyes to see his face turning white. He glared at her accusingly. A hand shifted to her arm.

  A terrible lethargy spread from her arm through her body. Though she tried to move, no muscle would obey her. At the same time, she felt magical strength draining from her at a frightening speed. A movement in the corner of her eye beckoned, but she could not even summon the strength to shift her gaze. Then the draining eased. The Ichani’s expression had changed from anger to confusion and horror. She saw the knife slip from his hand. He let her go and clutched at his chest.

  Control came back to Sonea in an instant. She picked up the knife and slashed it across his neck. As blood sprayed down, she grabbed his throat and drew in his strength.

  Power flooded into her, but not as much as she had gained from Parika. The fight with the Guild had weakened this Ichani. As his strength ebbed, he fell backward onto the floor and lay still.

  Behind him stood Akkarin. He gazed at her with an odd expression. She looked down at her blood-splattered clothes and shuddered in disgust.

  After it’s all over, Sonea thought, I will never use this power again. Never.

  “I felt the same when I returned from Sachaka.”

  She looked up at him. He extended a hand.

  “There’s bound to be something in the house for you to change into,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Getting up was difficult even with his help. Though she wasn’t tired, her legs were shaky. She stood still for a moment, swaying. Looking at the dead Ichani, she felt shock change to relief. It worked. And he didn’t get a chance to call to Kariko. She had survived, and had even saved…

  “The King?” she asked.

  “I sent him to the house across the road, and Takan warned Ravi to be prepared to receive him.”

  As she imagined what that encounter would be like, Sonea felt her mood lighten a little. “The King rescued by the Thieves. Now that’s something I’d like to see.”

  The corner of Akkarin’s mouth curled upward. “I’m sure there will be some interesting consequences.”

  Cery ran down yet another corridor and skidded to a halt beside a door. He tested the handle. Locked. He moved to the next. The same. The sound of distant footsteps grew louder. He bolted for the door at the end of the corridor, and gasped with relief as the handle turned.

  Beyond was a long room with windows facing the gardens at the center of the Palace. Cery hurried past chairs decorated with gold and sumptuous fabrics to another door at the end of the room. Savara’s pendant hammered against his chest under his clothes.

  Please don’t be locked, he thought. Please don’t be a dead end.

  He grabbed the handle and twisted, but it would not turn. A curse escaped him and he fumbled through his coat for picks. He drew them out, glad that he had never lost the habit of carrying them. Selecting two, he inserted them into the lock and began to feel for the mechanism.

  Behind him, the faint sound of footsteps grew louder.

  His breath rushed in and out of his throat. His mouth was dry and his hands sweaty. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, then gave the picks a quick turn and push.

  The lock clicked open. Cery grabbed the picks, pulled open the door and dashed through. He yanked the door behind him, stopping it just as it was about to slam, and drew it closed as quietly as he could.

  A quick glance told him that he had entered a small room filled with mirrors and small tables and chairs. A dressing room for entertainers, Cery guessed. There was no other door or entrance to the room. He turned his attention back to the lock and set to work on closing it again.

  The mechanism was easier to trigger now he knew the type. It closed with a satisfying click. Sighing with relief, Cery moved to a chair and sat down.

  As he heard footsteps outside the room, his relief evaporated. If Harikava had been following him, he would guess that there was nowhere else that Cery could have gone but through the door—locked or not. Rising, Cery took a step toward the small windows on one side of the room. He had to get out somehow.

  Then the lock clicked and his blood turned to ice.

  The door swung open with a faint squeak. The Ichani peered inside. As he saw Cery, he smiled.

  “There you are.”

  Cery backed away from the door. Reaching inside his coat pockets, he felt the handles of his knives against his palms. He grasped them tightly.

  This isn’t good, he thought. He glanced toward the windows. I won’t get to them. He’ll stop me.

  The Ichani took a step closer.

  If he catches me, he’ll read my mind. He’ll find out about Sonea and Akkarin.

  Cery swallowed hard and loosened the knives from their sheaths. But he can’t read my mind if I’m already dead.

  As the Ichani took another step, Cery felt his determination weaken. I can’t do it. I can’t kill myself. He stared at the Ichani. The man’s eyes were cold and predatory.

  What’s the difference? I’m going to die anyway.

  He took two quick breaths, then whisked out the knives.

  —No, Cery! Don’t!

  Cery froze at the voice in his mind. Was this his fear speaking? If it was, it had a woman’s voice. A voice much like…

  Harikava turned to look out of the room and his eyes widened. Cery heard swift footsteps. As a woman stepped into the doorway, he caught his breath in surprise.

  “Leave him, Harikava,” Savara said. Her voice was commanding. “This one is mine.”

  The Ichani backed way from her. “What are your kind doing here?” he snarled.

  She smiled. “Not making our own claim on Kyralia, as you probably fear. No, we are merely watching.”

  “So you say.”

  “You are in no position to say otherwise,” she replied, stepping into the room. “If I were you, I’d leave now.”

  As she moved toward Cery, Harikava watched her carefully. When she was several steps away from the door, he strode to it and out of the room. Cery heard the man’s footsteps stop outside.

  “Kariko won’t have your kind here. He will hunt you down.”

  “I will be long gone before he has the time to spare.”

  The footsteps moved away, then there was the sound of the door in the next room closing. Savara looked at Cery.

  “He’s gone. That was close.”

  He stared back at her. She had saved him. Somehow she had known he was in trouble, and appeared just in time. But how was that possible? Had she followed him? Or had she been following the Ichani? Relief changed to doubt as he considered her words. The Ichani had been afraid of her. Suddenly he was sure he ought to be, too.

  “Who are you?” he whispered.

  Her shoulders lifted. “A servant of my people.”

  “He…he ran away. From you. Why?”

  “Uncertainty. He has used a great deal of power today, and can’t be sure he would defeat me.” She smiled and moved toward him. “Bluff is always the most satisfying way to win a fight.”

  Cery backed away. She had just saved his life. He ought to thank her. But there was something too strange about all this. “He recognized you. You know his name.”

  “He recognized what I am, not who I am,” she corrected.

  “What are you, then?”

  “Your ally.”

  “No, you’re not. You say you want to help us, but you won’t do anything to stop the Ichani, even though you’re strong enough to do it.”

  Her smile vanished. She regarded him solemnly, then her expression hardened. “I’m doing everything I can, Cery. What will it take to convince you of that? Would you trust me if I said I have known for some time that Akkarin and Sonea had returned? Obviously I haven’t told the Ichan
i this.”

  Cery’s heart skipped a beat, then began to pound. “How did you find out about that?”

  She smiled and her eyes flickered to his chest. “I have my ways.”

  Why the glance at his chest? He frowned as he remembered the pendant. Reaching under his shirt, he pulled it out. Her eyes flickered and her smile faded.

  What sort of magical properties did it have? Looking at the smooth ruby at the center, he felt a chill go down his back as he remembered Sonea and Akkarin making their rings for each other. Rings with red glass baubles…

  “With these rings, we will be able to see into each others’ minds…”

  He looked at the ruby. If this was a blood gem, then Savara had been reading his mind…and he had been wearing it since just after Akkarin and Sonea arrived.

  How else could she know they were in the city?

  Drawing the chain over his head, he tossed the pendant aside.

  “I have been a fool to trust you,” he said bitterly.

  She regarded him sadly. “I have known about Sonea and Akkarin since I gave you that pendant. Have I revealed them to the Ichani? No. Have I used this information to bribe you? No. I have not taken advantage of your trust, Ceryni, you have taken advantage of mine.”

  She crossed her arms. “You told me you would keep me informed if I gave you advice on killing magicians, but you have kept much from me that I needed to know. My people have been looking for Akkarin and Sonea in Sachaka. They intended to help the former High Lord take back Kyralia from the Ichani. We do not want Kyralia ruled by Kariko and his allies any more than you do.”

  Cery stared at her. “How can I believe this?”

  Savara sighed and shook her head. “I can only ask you to trust me. It is too difficult to prove…but I think you have reached the limit of your trust.” She smiled ruefully. “What are we to do with each other?”

  He didn’t know how to answer that. Looking at the pendant, he felt angry, foolish and betrayed. Yet when he looked at her, he saw a sadness and regret in her eyes that he did believe was real. He did not want them to part with ill feelings for each other.

  But perhaps that was not possible.

  “You and I have deals and secrets we can’t give away, and people we must protect,” he said slowly. “I respect that about you, but you didn’t respect that about me.” He looked at the pendant again. “You shouldn’t have done that to me. I know why you did it, but that doesn’t make it right. When you gave me that, you made it impossible for me to keep my promises.”

  “I wanted to protect your people.”

  “I know.” He managed a wry smile. “And I can respect that, too. While our lands are fighting, we can’t put each other’s feelings before our people’s safety. So let’s see how this turns out. When it’s all over, I might forgive you for doing that to me. Until then, I’m sticking to my own side. Don’t expect anything more.”

  She looked down, then nodded. “I understand.”

  The servants door to Zerrend’s mansion opened onto an alley just wide enough for a delivery cart to pass through. The lock was undone, but the door was closed. Both ends of the alley met empty, silent streets.

  There was no sign of Tayend—no sign of anyone at all.

  “What shall we do now?” Farand asked.

  “I don’t know,” Dannyl admitted. “I don’t want to leave, in case he comes back. But he may have been forced to flee the city.”

  Or he might be lying dead somewhere. Every time Dannyl thought about the possibility, his blood turned cold and he felt ill with dread. First Rothen, then Tayend…

  No, he told himself. Don’t even consider it. Not until you see it for yourself.

  The thought that he might see Tayend’s body only made it harder to think clearly. He had to concentrate, to decide where they should go. They had three choices: stay at the mansion and hope Tayend would eventually return, search the city for him, or give up and leave the city.

  I’m not leaving the city until I know.

  So that left the mansion or the search. Neither were very fair to Farand.

  “I’m going to look for Tayend,” Dannyl said. “I’ll try the surrounding streets, and come back to check the house from time to time. You should leave the city. There’s no point in us both risking our lives.”

  “No,” Farand replied. “I’ll stay here in case he comes back.”

  Dannyl regarded Farand in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  The young magician nodded. “I don’t know Imardin, Dannyl. I don’t know if I’d find my way out. And you need someone to stay here in case Tayend comes back.” He shrugged, then took a few steps backward. “I’ll see you when you return.”

  Dannyl watched Farand until he had entered the house, then moved back to the end of the alley and scanned the street beyond. All was still. He stepped out and hurried to the next alley.

  At first Dannyl found only a few wooden crates in the alleys and streets. Then he began to encounter the bodies of magicians. Fear for Tayend’s safety grew stronger.

  He took a circular route, and had almost made his way back to the mansion again when a man stepped out in front of him. His heart jumped and began to pound, but it was only a rough-looking servant or crafter.

  “In here,” the man said, pointing to an open garbage hatch in the wall. “Safer for you magicians down there.”

  Dannyl shook his head. “No, thank you.” As he walked past, the man caught his arm.

  “Sachakan was close, not long ago. You be safer out of sight.”

  Dannyl pulled away. “I’m looking for someone.”

  The man shrugged and stepped back.

  Continuing on, Dannyl reached the end of the alley. The street beyond was empty. He stepped out and hurried across the road toward the alley on the other side.

  When he had nearly reached it, he heard a door close behind him. He turned, and felt his blood turn to ice.

  “Ah, now that’s better.” The woman striding toward him smiled slyly. “I was beginning to think there were no other pretty magicians in Kyralia.”

  He bolted for the alley, but slammed into an invisible barrier. Stunned, he staggered backward, heart pounding.

  “Not that way,” the woman said. “Come here. I won’t kill you.”

  Dannyl took several deep breaths and turned to face her. As she drew closer he backed down the street. There was a malicious gleam in her eyes. He realized he had seen it before. She was the Ichani who had wanted to “keep” Lord Fergun for herself.

  “Kariko won’t let you keep me alive,” he said.

  She tossed her head. “He might, now that we’re here and most of your Guild is dead.”

  “Why would you want to keep me, anyway?” he said, still backing away.

  She shrugged. “My slaves are dead. I need new ones.”

  He must be getting close to the next alley. Perhaps, if he kept talking, she would not remember to block it.

  “It could be very pleasant for you.” She smiled slyly, her eyes roaming from his neck to his feet. “I like to reward my favorite slaves.”

  He felt a mad urge to laugh. What does she think she is? he thought. Some sort of irresistible seductress? She sounds ridiculous.

  “You’re not my type,” he told her.

  Her eyebrows rose. “No? Well, it doesn’t matter. You will do as I say, or—” She stopped and glanced around the street in surprise.

  From doors and alleys on all sides, Guild magicians had emerged. Dannyl stared at them. He did not recognize any of the faces. Then a hand grabbed his arm and hauled him sideways.

  He stumbled through a door. It closed behind him. Dannyl turned to stare at his rescuer, and felt his heart leap.

  “Tayend!”

  The scholar grinned up at him. Dannyl gasped with relief, pulled Tayend close and held him tightly.

  “You left the house. Why did you leave the house?”

  “That woman came in. I thought I’d wait in the alley until she left, but she came ou
t that way. The Thieves saved me. I told them you would come looking for me, but they didn’t reach the house in time.”

  Dannyl heard a muffled cough, and froze as he realized they weren’t alone. He turned to find a tall Lonmar regarding him curiously. His face went cold, then hot.

  “I see you’re good friends,” the man said. “Now that you’ve caught up, we should—”

  The door shuddered from a heavy blow. The man beckoned frantically.

  “Quickly! Follow me.”

  Tayend grabbed Dannyl’s wrist and dragged him after the stranger. From behind them came a crash. The Lonmar began to run. Taking them down a staircase, he led them into a cellar and bolted the door behind them.

  “That won’t stop her,” Dannyl said.

  “No,” the stranger replied. “But it’ll slow her down.”

  He hurried between racks of wine bottles to a cupboard at the far wall. Opening the door, he tugged at shelves containing jars of preserves. The shelves swivelled forward, revealing another door. The stranger opened the door and stepped aside. Tayend and Dannyl squeezed through into a passage. A boy stood nearby, holding a small lamp.

  The Lonmar followed and began pulling the shelves back in place. There was a faint sound beyond the cellar door, then an explosion.

  “No time,” the Lonmar muttered. He left the cupboard half assembled and closed the inner door. Taking the lamp from the boy, he started to jog down the passage. Dannyl and Tayend hurried after.

  “Not good,” the stranger said to himself. “Let’s hope she—”

  From behind came another explosion. Dannyl glanced behind to see a globe light flare into existence where the secret door had been. The Lonmar drew in a sharp breath.

  “Run!”

  37

  A Glimpse of the Enemy

  The servant’s dress Sonea had found to replace her bloodied shirt and trousers must have belonged to a taller woman. It covered her robes well, but the sleeves were so long she’d had to roll them up, and the hem kept getting under her feet. She was just catching her balance after stepping on it again when a messenger appeared in the passage before them. He saw them, and quickened his pace.