Black Magician 03 - The High Lord

by Trudi Canavan

  She bit her lip gently. It would be a terrible thing to ask of someone. To learn something that most magicians believed was evil. To break a Guild law.

  And to break this law was no small matter that would earn her some menial task or the withdrawal of luxuries or favor. No, the punishment for this was likely to be much, much worse. Expulsion perhaps, with her powers bound, or possibly imprisonment.

  Only if the crime was discovered.

  Akkarin had managed to hide his secret for years. But he was the High Lord. That gave him a lot of room to be mysterious and secretive. Which meant it would not be difficult for her to join him.

  But what would happen if he died? She frowned. Lorlen and Rothen would reveal Akkarin's crime, and that her guardianship had been only a way to gain their silence. If she did not consent to a truth-read, there was no reason why anyone would discover that she had learned black magic. She could play the unhappy victim and attract no suspicion.

  After that she would be dismissed and ignored. No longer the High Lord's favorite, she could hide in her ordinariness. She would slip away into the hidden passages at night. Akkarin had already arranged for the Thieves' help. They would find the spies for her . . .

  She stopped and sat down on the end of her bed.

  I can't believe I'm considering this. There's a reason black magic is banned. It's evil.

  Or was it? Years before, Rothen had pointed out to her that magic was neither good nor evil; it was what the wielder did with it that mattered.

  Black magic involved taking power from another. It didn't have to involve killing. Even the Ichani did not kill their slaves unless they had to. When she had first seen Akkarin using it, he had been taking power from Takan. Power that was obviously willingly given.

  She thought back to the records that Akkarin had shown her. Black magic had once been commonly used by the Guild. Apprentices would willingly give strength to their masters in exchange for knowledge. Once deemed ready, the apprentices were taught the secret of "higher magic" and became masters themselves. It was an arrangement that had encouraged cooperation and peace. No one was killed. No one was enslaved.

  It had only taken one man with an insane desire for power to change that. And the Ichani used black magic to maintain a culture of slavery. When she considered these things, she understood why the Guild had banned black magic. It could be abused so easily.

  But Akkarin hadn't abused it. Or had he?

  Akkarin has used it to kill. Isn't that the worst abuse of power?

  Akkarin had used it to free himself, and only killed the

  spies to keep Kyralia safe. That was not an abuse of power. It was reasonable to kill to protect oneself, and

  others ... wasn't it?

  As a child surviving in the slums, she had decided that she would not hesitate to kill to defend herself. If she could avoid harming another, she would, but she was not going to let herself become a victim either. That determination had paid off a few years later when she had fended off an attacker with her knife. She didn't know if he had lived, and she had not spared much time wondering.

  The Warriors learned how to fight with magic. The Guild continued passing on that knowledge in case the Allied Lands should ever be attacked. She never heard Lord Balkan agonizing over whether magic should be used to kill in defense.

  She lay back on the bed. Perhaps Akkarin was wrong about the Guild. Perhaps, when faced with no choice, they would accept the use of black magic only in defense.

  Would magicians respect that restriction? She shivered as she imagined what Lord Fergun might have done with the knowledge. Fergun had been punished, though. As a whole, the Guild could probably keep control of its magicians.

  Then she remembered the Purge. If the King did not balk at using the Guild to drive the poor from the city to keep the Houses happy, what might he do with black magicians at his bidding?

  The Guild would always be cautious about how black magic was used. If laws were put in place, if only those deemed worthy were taught—determined by a truth-read to test a candidate's character and moral integrity . . .

  Who am I to think I have the wisdom to reshape the Guild? I probably wouldn't even be considered as a candidate if this system was in place.

  She was the slum girl. Naturally, she had no moral integrity. No one would even consider her.

  I am considering me.

  Rising, she moved to the window.

  The people I care about are in danger. I have to do something. Surely the Guild will not execute me if I break a law

  trying to protect it. They may expel me, but if I must lose this luxury called magic in exchange for the lives of those I love, so be it.

  She shivered, chilled by and yet sure of the lightness of this revelation.

  There, it is decided. I will learn black magic.

  She turned to regard the door of her room. Akkarin was probably in bed. She could not wake him up just to tell him this. It could wait until tomorrow.

  Sighing, she slipped under the covers of her bed. She closed her eyes, hoping she would finally be able to sleep now that she had made her decision.

  Am I being deceived? Once I learn this, I can't unlearn it.

  She considered the books Akkarin had given her to read. They looked genuine, but they could have been clever fakes. She did not know enough about forgery to be able to tell.

  The spy could have been manipulated to believe certain things in order for her to be deceived, but she was sure Akkarin could not have invented it all. Tavaka's mind had held a lifetime's worth of memories of the Ichani and slavery that could not have been arranged by the High Lord.

  And Akkarin's story?

  If he wanted to trick her into learning black magic so he could blackmail and control her, then he had only needed to convince her that the Guild was in great danger. Why admit to having been a slave?

  She yawned. She must get some sleep. She needed a clear head.

  Tomorrow she was going to break one of the Guild's strictest laws.

  The room was too small for pacing. A single lamp hung from the roof, casting yellow light on the rough brick walls. Cery crossed his arms and silently cursed himself. Akkarin had told him they must avoid meeting unless they had to discuss something of great concern that could only be settled face to face.

  Sonea 's welfare is of great concern, Cery reasoned. And this can only be settled face to face.

  But it was unlikely the High Lord would agree. Cery felt another twinge of anxiety. So far, he hadn't regretted any of the work he had done in return for being rescued from Lord Fergun, and for the assistance he'd received from Akkarin in establishing his place among the Thieves. Tracking the murderers was easy enough. Once you knew what to look for, they stood out like a guard in a smuggler's den. Getting rid of the bodies afterward was standard work, though dumping them in the river was out of the question now the Guard were keeping an eye on it.

  But bringing Sonea into it? No, that was too much. Not that Cery could make the decision for her. But, at the very least, he wanted to make sure Akkarin knew he disapproved.

  The High Lord needed him. He was sure of that. Perhaps today he would discover how much.

  Cery drummed his fingers against his sleeve. If the High Lord ever arrives. There were few men in the city who would dare to be late to a meeting with a Thief. None but... the King, most in the Houses, the entire Guild . . .

  He sighed, then considered once again the only other piece of information he had for the Guild leader: that another Sachakan had been seen entering the city. Perhaps this little tidbit would mollify Akkarin when he discovered Cery's real reason for requesting a meeting. Not for the first time, Cery wondered what Akkarin's reaction would be if he knew the source of the information. He chuckled as he pictured Savara. That smile. The way she walked. She was definitely not a safe person to be around.

  But, then, neither was he these days.

  A tap brought him back to the present. He peered through a spy hole in
the door. A tall figure stood beside Gol's heavier frame, his face concealed in the hood of his cloak. Gol made the signal to confirm the visitor was the High Lord.

  Cery drew in a deep breath, then opened the door. Akkarin stalked inside. The cloak parted slightly to reveal black robes beneath. A shiver ran down Cery's spine. Akkarin usually wore plain clothing when he was on the Thieves' Road. Was this a deliberate move to remind Cery just who he was dealing with?

  "Ceryni," Akkarin said, smoothly tugging the hood from his head.

  "High Lord."

  "I do not have much time to spare. What is it you need to speak to me about?"

  Cery hesitated. "I think we've got another . . . murderer, in the city." He had been about to say "slave," but caught himself in time. Using that term would no doubt reveal that he'd been in contact with someone from Sachaka.

  Akkarin frowned, his eyes almost disappearing in the shadows of his brows. "You think?"

  "Yes." Cery smiled. 'There's been no murder yet, but the last killer arrived so soon after the one before, I have been paying some ear to talk I don't usually. Word is, she stands out. Should be easy to catch."

  "She?" Akkarin repeated. "A woman. So ... if the Thieves hear this they'll know there is more than one murderer. Will this be a problem for you?"

  9

  Akkarin's Helper

  Cery shrugged. "It won't change anything. They might even give a little more respect. Better we catch her quick, though, so they don't find out at all."

  Akkarin nodded. "Is that all?"

  Cery hesitated. He drew in a deep breath and pushed aside his doubts.

  "You brought Sonea."

  Akkarin straightened. The lamplight reached his eyes. He looked amused.

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "I had my reasons."

  "Good ones, I hope," Cery said, forcing himself to meet and hold Akkarin's gaze.

  The High Lord's stare didn't waver. "Yes. She was in no great danger."

  "Are you going to get her into any of this?"

  "A little. Not in the way you fear, however. I need someone in the Guild to be aware of what I am doing."

  Cery forced out the next question. Just thinking about asking it brought difficult, contrary feelings. "Will you bring her again?"

  "No, I do not intend to."

  He breathed a short sigh of relief. "Does she ... does she know about me?"

  "No."

  Cery felt a wistful disappointment. He wouldn't have minded showing off his success a little. He'd come a long way in the last few years. Though he knew she did not think too highly of Thieves . . .

  "Is that all?" Akkarin asked. There was a hint of respect in his voice—or was it simply tolerance?

  Cery nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

  He watched the High Lord turn to the door and open it. Take care of her, he thought. Akkarin glanced back, nodded once, then strode away down the passage, his cloak flaring around his ankles.

  Well, that went better than I expected, Cery mused.

  Dannyl's rooms in the Guild House of Capia were large and luxurious. He had a bedroom, office and guestroom to himself, and he had only to ring one of many little bells around the place to attract a servant.

  One had just brought a steaming cup of sumi when another entered the office to tell him he had a visitor.

  "Tayend of Tremmelin is here to see you," the servant informed him.

  Dannyl put down his cup, surprised. Tayend rarely visited him here. They preferred the privacy of the Great Library, where they didn't have to worry about servants noticing anything in their behavior toward each other.

  "Send him in."

  Tayend was dressed appropriately for a meeting with an important personage. Though Dannyl was growing used to the flamboyant court dress of Elyne, he still found it amusing. However, the tightly fitting clothes, which looked so ridiculous on older courtiers, were flattering on Tayend.

  "Ambassador Dannyl," Tayend said, bowing gracefully. "I have been reading Dem Marane's book and it contains some very interesting information."

  Dannyl gestured to one of the chairs set before his desk. "Please sit down. Just. . . give me a moment." Tayend had reminded him of something. He took a fresh piece of paper and began composing a short letter.

  "What are you writing?" Tayend,asked.

  "A letter to Dem Marane expressing my deepest regrets that I cannot attend his dinner party tonight, due to some unexpected work that I must attend to without delay."

  "What about Farand?"

  "He will survive. I do have work to sort out, but I also want to make them wait a little. Once I finish teaching Farand Control, they will no longer need me, and we might find our new friends have taken an unexpected journey abroad."

  "They'd be fools, then. Do they think all those years of training you went through are for nothing?"

  "They can't appreciate the value of what they don't understand."

  "So you'll be arresting them as soon as Farand's ready?"

  "I don't know. I haven't decided yet. It might be worth taking the risk that they'd disappear on us. I'm sure we haven't met everyone involved. If I wait, I might be introduced to more of the group."

  "Are you sure you don't need me to come with you to Kyralia once you've arrested them? The Guild might need another witness."

  "They don't need any more proof than Farand." Dannyl looked up and shook a finger at the scholar. "You just want to see the Guild for yourself. But when our new friends retaliate by spreading rumors about us, it won't help if we're seen together."

  "But we wouldn't be together all the time. I don't have to stay in the Guild. I have distant relatives in Imardin. And you said Akkarin would tell everyone it was all just a trick."

  Dannyl sighed. He didn't want to leave Tayend. Not even for a few weeks. If he was sure he could get away with returning to the Guild with the scholar in tow, he would make arrangements to take him. It might even help to disprove the rumors once and for all if they were seen to behave "normally." But he knew that it would take only a small hint of the truth to put ideas in suspicious minds—and he already knew there were plenty of those in the Guild.

  "I'll be returning by sea," he reminded Tayend. "I would have thought you'd want to avoid that."

  Tayend's face clouded, but only for a moment. "I'd put up with a little seasickness, if it came with good company."

  "Not this time," Dannyl said firmly. "One day we'll travel by carriage to Imardin. Then you'll be good company as well." He smiled at Tayend's indignant glare, then signed the letter and put it aside. "Now, what have you found?"

  "Do you remember how the writing on the woman's tomb in the Tombs of White Tears said she performed 'high magic'?"

  Dannyl nodded. The visit to Vin in search of evidence of ancient magic seemed so long ago now.

  "The words 'high magic' were represented by a glyph containing a crescent moon and a hand," Tayend opened the

  Dem's book and slid it across the desk toward Dannyl. "This is a copy of a book written two centuries ago, when the Alliance was made and the law was laid down that all magicians must be taught and controlled by the Guild. Most magicians outside Kyralia were members of the Guild, but some weren't. This belonged to one who wasn't."

  Drawing the book to him, Dannyl saw that the top of the page bore the same glyph they had been puzzling over for a year. He began to read the text below it:

  The term "higher magic" encompasses several skills that were once in common use throughout the lands. Minor skills include the ability to create "blood stones" or "blood gems" which enhance the maker's ability to mind-speak with another person at a distance, and "store stones " or "store gems " which can hold and release magic in specific ways.

  The main form of higher magic is acquisitive. If a

  magician has the knowledge, he may draw power from living things to increase his store of strength.

  Dannyl caught his breath and stared at the page in horror. This was describing something
similar to ... A chill slowly spread down Dannyl's spine. His eyes continued to follow the words, drawn on as if by another's will.

  To do this, the natural barrier which protects the creature or plant must be broken or lowered. This is done most simply by cutting the skin deep enough to draw blood or sap. Other means involve voluntary or involuntary lowering of the barrier. With practice, the natural barrier can be voluntarily withdrawn. During the height of sexual pleasure, the barrier tends to "waver," allowing a momentary opportunity for the drawing of power.

  Dannyl had turned completely cold. In preparation for his position, he had been given information that was kept from ordinary magicians. Some of it was political; some of it magical. Included among the magical warning signs he was taught to recognize were those for black magic.

  And here he was, holding a book containing instructions on its use. Just by reading it, he was breaking a law.

  "Dannyl? Are you all right?"

  He looked up at Tayend, but couldn't speak. Tayend stared back, frowning with concern.

  "You've gone completely white. I thought. . . well... if this book is right, we've discovered what high magic is."

  Dannyl opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked down at the book. He stared at the glyph of the crescent moon and hand. Not a crescent moon, he realized. A blade. Higher magic was black magic.

  Akkarin had been researching black magic.

  No. He wouldn't have known. He didn't get this far, Dannyl reminded himself. He probably still doesn't know. Otherwise he wouldn 't have encouraged me to continue my research. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  "Tayend, I think it's time to tell Errend about the rebels. I may be taking that trip earlier than I thought."

  Sonea's heart beat faster as she approached the High Lord's Residence. All day she had been waiting for this moment. It had been difficult to concentrate during classes, even more difficult to endure Mien's attempts to make her punishment in the library as tedious as possible.

  The gray stone building loomed over her in the darkness. She stopped to take one long deep breath and gather her courage, then she walked up to the door and brushed the handle with her fingers. It clicked open and swung inward.