Black Magician 03 - The High Lord

by Trudi Canavan

  re-created it behind them. Sonea looked back. If she had dared to continue past Akkarin's underground room during her previous exploration, she would have encountered these barriers.

  The passage curved slightly to the right. Side passages appeared. Akkarin turned into one without hesitation, and their path twisted through several crumbling rooms. When he stopped again they faced a fall of rocks and earth where the roof had caved in. She looked at him questioningly.

  His eyes glittered in the lamplight. He stared at the blockage intently. A dry scraping sound filled the passage as stones crumpled inward to form rough stairs. A hole appeared at the top. Akkarin set his foot on the first tread and began to climb.

  Sonea followed. At the top was another passage. The lamplight revealed rough walls made from a patchy mixture of small low-quality bricks. The air smelt damp and familiar. This place reminded her strongly of... of...

  The Thieves' Road.

  They had entered the tunnels under the city used by the criminal underworld. Akkarin turned and gazed back down the stairs. The treads slid forward to block the stairwell. Once they were in place, he started down the passage.

  Questions began crowding Sonea's thoughts. Did the Thieves know that the High Lord of the Magicians' Guild used their passages, and that there were tunnels under the Guild that connected with their own? She knew they guarded their domain carefully, so she doubted he had avoided their notice. Had he gained their permission to use the road, then? She considered his rough clothing. Perhaps he had gained it using a false identity.

  Several hundred paces on, a thin man with bleary eyes stepped out from an alcove and nodded to Akkarin. He paused to stare at Sonea, obviously surprised at her presence, but said nothing. Turning away, he started down the passage before them.

  Their silent guide set a rapid pace, taking them on a long journey through a twisting, complex labyrinth of passages. Slowly Sonea became aware of an odor she knew but could

  not put a name to. It changed as much as the walls, but something about the changeability of the smell was also familiar. It wasn't until Akkarin stopped and rapped on a door that Sonea realized what she was smelling.

  It was the slums. The smell was a mix of human and animal waste, sweat, garbage, smoke and bol. Sonea swayed as memories rushed over her: of working with her aunt and uncle, of sneaking out to join Cery and the gang of street urchins they hung about with.

  Then the door opened and she returned to the present.

  A large man filled the doorway, his rough shirt stretched over a broad chest. He nodded respectfully at Akkarin, then, as he looked at her, he frowned as if he recognized her face but wasn't sure why. After a moment he shrugged and stepped aside.

  "Come in."

  Sonea followed Akkarin into a tiny room, barely large enough to fit the three of them and a narrow cupboard. On the opposite side was a heavy door. Sonea detected a vibration about it and realized it was strengthened by a strong magical barrier. Her skin prickled. What, in the slums, could possibly need such a potent binding?

  The man turned to regard Akkarin. From his hesitant and anxious manner, Sonea guessed he knew who his visitor was—or at least enough to know he was facing someone important and powerful.

  "He's awake," he rumbled, casting a fearful look at the door.

  "Thank you for watching him, Morren," Akkarin said smoothly.

  "No rub."

  "Did you find a red gem on him?"

  "No. Searched him good. Found nothing."

  Akkarin frowned. "Very well. Stay here. This is Sonea. I will send her out in a while."

  Morren's eyes snapped to hers.

  "The Sonea?"

  "Yes, the living, breathing legend," Akkarin replied dryly.

  Morren smiled at her. "Honored to meet you, my lady."

  "Honored to meet you, Morren," she replied, bemuse-

  ment overcoming her anxiety for a moment. Living, breathing legend?

  Taking a key from his pocket, Morren inserted it in the door's lock and twisted. He stepped back, allowing Akkarin to approach. Sonea blinked as she sensed magic surround her. Akkarin had created a shield about them both. She peered around his shoulder, tense with curiosity. Slowly the door swung outward.

  The room beyond was small. A stone bench was the only furniture. On the bench lay a man, his legs and arms manacled.

  As the man saw Akkarin his eyes filled with terror. He began to struggle weakly. Sonea stared at him in dismay. He was young, probably not much older than her. His face was broad and his skin a sickly brown. His thin arms were covered in scars, and a fresh cut fringed in dried blood ran down one forearm. He did not look as if he could harm anything.

  Akkarin moved to the man's side, then placed a hand on his forehead. The captive's eyes widened. Sonea shivered as she realized Akkarin was reading the man's mind.

  His hand shifted abruptly and he grasped the captive's jaw. At once the man closed his mouth tightly and began to struggle. Akkarin prised open the man's mouth. Sonea caught a glimpse of gold, then Akkarin tossed something on the floor.

  A gold tooth. Sonea took a step backward, appalled, then jumped as the man began to laugh.

  "They have stheen your woman now," he said in a thickly accented voice, hampered by the missing tooth. "Kariko sthays sthee will be histh after he killsth you."

  Akkarin smiled and glanced at her. "What a pity neither you or I will be alive to see him try that."

  He lifted a foot and stamped on the tooth. To Sonea's surprise, it crunched under his boot. When he stepped away, she was surprised to see that the gold had split, and tiny fragments of red littered the floor.

  Sonea frowned at the twisted lump that had been the tooth, trying to make sense of the exchange. What had the

  man meant? "They have seen your woman." Who were "they." How could they have seen her? Clearly it had something to do with the tooth. Why put a gem inside a tooth? And it obviously wasn't a gem. It looked as if it had been glass. As she considered the fragments, she remembered that Akkarin had asked if Morren had found a red gem. The famous murderer wore a ring with a red gem. And Lorlen.

  She looked at the captive. He was completely limp now. He stared at Akkarin fearfully.

  "Sonea."

  She looked at Akkarin. His eyes were cold and steady.

  "I have brought you here to answer some of your questions," he told her. "I know you will not believe me unless you see the truth for yourself, so I have decided to teach you something that I never intended to teach anyone. It is a skill that can too easily be abused, but if you—"

  "No!" She straightened her back. "I will not learn—"

  "I do not mean black magic." Akkarin's eyes flashed. "I would not teach you that, even if you were willing. I wish to teach you how to read minds."

  "But.. ." She drew in a quick breath as she realized what he meant. He, of all the magicians in the Guild, was able to read another person's mind whether they were willing or not. She had experienced his mind-reading skills herself, when he had first discovered that she, Lorlen and Rothen knew that he practiced black magic.

  And now he wanted to teach her how to do it. "Why?" she blurted out.

  "As I said, I want you to know the truth for yourself. You would not believe me if I told you." His eyes narrowed. "I would not trust you with this secret if I did not know you have a strong sense of honor and morality. Even so, you must vow never to use this method of mind-reading on an unwilling recipient unless Kyralia is in great danger, and there is no other course of action."

  Sonea swallowed hard and kept her gaze steady. "You expect me to restrict my use of it as you say, when you have not yourself?"

  His eyes darkened, but his mouth widened into a humor-

  less smile. "Yes. Will you make the vow, or shall we return to the Guild now?"

  She looked at the captive. Obviously Akkarin intended for her to read this man's mind. He would not have her do it if what she saw would endanger him. But would she see anything that wou
ld endanger herself?

  It was impossible for the mind to lie. Conceal the truth, perhaps, but that was difficult—and impossible with Akkarin's mind-reading method. If he had arranged for this man to believe certain lies were truth, however, she could still be deceived.

  But if she kept that in mind and carefully considered all she learned . ..

  Knowing how to read minds could be a useful skill. Even if she did make this vow, it would not stop her using it in the fight against him. Kyralia was already in great danger just by having a black magician at the heart of the Magicians' Guild.

  The captive stared back at her.

  "You would have me vow never to read a mind unless Kyralia was in danger," she said. "Yet you want me to read his. Surely he is not a threat to Kyralia."

  Akkarin smiled. He seemed pleased by her question. "He isn't now. But he was. And his claims that his master will enslave you after he kills me should prove there is a possible future threat. How can you know whether his master is capable of it, if you do not read his mind?"

  "With that reasoning, you could justify reading the mind of anyone who made a threat."

  His smile broadened. "Which is why I require you to make that vow. You will not use this skill unless there is no other choice." His expression became serious. "There is no other way I can show you the truth—not without putting your life at risk. Will you make the vow?"

  She hesitated, then nodded. He crossed his arms and waited. She took a deep breath.

  "I vow never to read the mind of an unwilling person unless Kyralia is in great danger and there is no other way of avoiding that danger."

  He nodded. "Good. If I ever discover that you have broken that vow, I will ensure you regret it." He turned to regard the captive. The man had been watching them closely.

  "Will you let me go now?" the man said, his voice pleading. "You know I had to do what I did. They made me. Now the sthtone is gone, they can't find me. I won't—"

  "Silence."

  The man cringed at the command, then whimpered as Akkarin crouched beside him.

  "Put your hand on his forehead."

  Sonea pushed aside her reluctance and squatted beside the captive. She rested a hand on his forehead. Her heart skipped as Akkarin pressed his hand over hers. His touch was cool at first, but quickly warmed.

  —I will show you how to read him, but once you have the skill of it, I will let you explore as you wish.

  She felt his presence at the edge of her thoughts. Closing her eyes, she visualized her mind as a room, as Rothen had taught her. She took a step toward the doors, intending to open them to greet him, then jumped back in surprise as Akkarin appeared within the room. He waved a hand at the walls.

  —Forget this. Forget everything you have been taught. Visualization slows and restricts your mind. Using it, you will only understand what you can translate into images.

  The room disintegrated around her. So did the image of him. But the sense of his presence remained. Before, when he had read her mind, she had sensed little presence at all. Now she detected a hint of personality and a power that was stronger than anything she had encountered before.

  —Follow me .. .

  His presence moved away. Pursuing it, she sensed herself drawing close to a third mind. Fear emanated from this mind, and she encountered resistance.

  —He can stop you only if he can sense you. To prevent him sensing you, put aside all will and intent except for the single purpose of easing into his mind without disturbing it. Like this . . .

  To her amazement, Akkarin's presence changed. Instead of exerting his will on the man's mind, he seemed to give up.

  Only the faintest presence remained, a vague desire to drift into another's thoughts. Then his presence strengthened again.

  —Now you.

  She had a lingering sense of what he had done. It had seemed easy, yet every time she tried to emulate him she bumped up against the captive's mind. Then she felt Akkarin's mind drift into hers. Before she could feel any alarm, he sent something-—a concept—into hers. Instead of trying to separate and lose all the intentions but one, she should concentrate only on the one needed.

  Suddenly she knew exactly how to slip past the captive's resistance. In less than a heartbeat she had drifted into his mind.

  —Good. Now keep that light touch. Watch his thoughts. When you see a memory you wish to explore, exert your will on his mind. This is more difficult. Watch me.

  The man was thinking about the tooth, wondering if his master had been watching when the girl had appeared.

  —Who are you? Akkarin asked.

  —Tavaka.

  Abruptly, Sonea became aware that he had been a slave, until recently.

  —Who is your master?

  —Harikava. A powerful Ichani. A face, distinctly Sachakan, flashed through his mind. It was a cruel face, hard and clever.

  —What are the Ichani?

  —Powerful magicians.

  —Why do they keep slaves?

  —For magic.

  A multilayered memory flashed through Sonea's mind. She had the impression of countless memories of the same incident: the slight pain of a shallow cut, the drawing of power...

  The Ichani, she understood suddenly, used black magic to draw power from their slaves, constantly strengthening themselves.

  —No more! I am a slave no longer. Harikava freed me.

  —Show me.

  The memory flashed through Tavaka's mind. Harikava sat in a tent. He spoke, saying that he would free Tavaka if he undertook a dangerous mission. Sonea sensed Akkarin take control of the memory. The mission was to enter Kyralia and find out if Kariko's words were true. Was the Guild weak? Had it spurned the use of greater magic? Many slaves had failed. If he succeeded, he would be accepted among the Ichani. If he did not, they would hunt him down.

  Harikava opened a wooden box trimmed in gold and gems. Taking out a sliver of something clear and hard, he tossed it in the air. It floated there, slowly melting before Tavaka's gaze. Harikava reached to his belt and drew an elaborate curved dagger with a jeweled handle. Sonea recognized the shape. It was similar to the one she had seen Akkarin use on Takan, so long ago.

  Cutting his hand, Harikava dripped blood over the molten globule. It turned red and solidified. Taking off a thin band of gold from many that ringed his fingers, he molded it around the gem so that a tiny red glint was all that could be seen. She understood what this gem would do. Every sight, every sound, and every thought he had would be sensed by his master.

  The man's eyes rose to meet Tavaka's. She felt an echo of the slave's fear and hope. The master beckoned and, with his bleeding hand, reached for his knife again.

  The memory ended abruptly.

  —Now you try, Sonea.

  For a moment she considered what image to prompt the man with. On impulse, she sent a memory of Akkarin in black robes.

  She was not prepared for the hatred and fear that filled the man's mind. Glimpses of a recent magical battle followed. Akkarin had found him before he could strengthen himself enough. Harikava would be disappointed and angry. Kariko would be too. An image of several men and women sitting in a circle around a fire appeared: a memory Tavaka did not want her to see. He forced it away with the skill of someone well practiced in hiding memories from searching minds. She realized she had forgotten to grasp for control of it.

  —Try again. You must catch the memory and protect it.

  She sent Tavaka an image of the circle of strangers as she remembered it. The faces were wrong, he thought. The face of Harikava appeared in his mind. Exerting her will, she "caught" the memory and blocked his efforts to stop it.

  —That's right. Now explore as you wish.

  She examined the faces carefully.

  —Who are these Ichani?

  Names and faces followed, but one stood out.

  —Kariko. The man who wants to kill Akkarin.

  —Why?

  —Akkarin killed his brother. Any slave that tu
rns on his master must be hunted down and punished.

  She almost lost control of his memory at that. Akkarin had been a slave! Tavaka must have sensed her surprise. She sensed a wave of savage glee.

  —Because of Akkarin, because Kariko's brother captured Akkarin and read his mind, we know the Guild is weak. Kariko says the Guild does not use the greater magics. He says we will invade Kyralia and defeat the Guild easily. It will be a fine revenge for what the Guild did to us after the war.

  Sonea's blood turned cold. This group of immensely strong black magicians intended to invade Kyralia!

  —When will this invasion be ? Akkarin asked suddenly.

  Doubts entered the man's mind.

  —Don't know. Others are afraid of the Guild. No slaves return. Neither will I... I don't want to die!

  Abruptly a small white house appeared, accompanied by a terrible guilt. A plump woman—Tavaka's mother. A wiry father with leathery skin. A pretty girl with large eyes—his sister. His sister's body after Harikava came and—

  It took all Sonea's control to resist fleeing the man's mind. She had heard and seen the aftermath of some cruel attacks by thugs while she had lived in the slums. Tavaka's family had died because of him. His parents might produce more gifted offspring. The sister might develop powers, too. The Ichani master did not want to cart the entire group around with him just in case, and he would not leave any

  potential sources of power around for his enemies to find and use.

  Pity and fear warred within her. Tavaka had lived a dreadful life. Yet she also sensed his ambition. Given the opportunity, he would return to his homeland to become one of these monstrous Ichani.

  —What have you done since entering Imardin? Akkarin asked.

  Memories of a shabby bedroom in a bolhouse followed, then the crowded drinking room. Sitting in a place where he might briefly touch others, and search for magical potential. No sense in wasting time stalking a victim, unless he or she had strong latent magic. If he was careful, he would grow strong enough to defeat Akkarin. Then he would return to Sachaka, help Kariko gather the Ichani, and they would invade Kyralia.

  A man was chosen and followed. A knife, a gift from Harikava, drawn and—