The Ambassador’s Mission: Book One of the Traitor Spy Trilogy

by Trudi Canavan

  From her seat high at the front of the Guildhall, Sonea watched the room filling up with magicians. A few patches of purple, red and green had formed, which was a recent phenomenon. Magicians from the Houses tended to sit with family members and allies rather than those of their own discipline, and that led to a mix of robe colours. But magicians from outside the Houses tended to form friendships with those of the same discipline, and the collective effect was a patch of the same robe colour in the audience.

  As the last stragglers took their seats, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. How will they vote today? Will they act out of fear that “lowies” may rebel against the Guild if rules are too restrictive? Will they act out of fear of criminal groups gaining too much influence on magicians and novices? Or will they want to abolish the rule so that they can indulge in pleasure houses and other entertainments run by Thieves without restriction? Or in order to continue to benefit from their own illegal enterprises with less danger of discovery?

  A gong rang out. Sonea looked down to see Osen striding across the front of the hall. The buzz of voices immediately began to diminish, and when all had quietened the Administrator’s voice rang out.

  “Today we have gathered to decide whether or not to grant the request, made by Lord Pendel and others, that we abolish the rule that states: ‘No magician or novice may associate with criminals and people of unsavoury character.’ I have decided that this is a decision that should be made by all magicians, by vote. I now request that the side for abolition of the rule sum up their position and reasoning, beginning with Lord Pendel.”

  Lord Pendel had been standing at the side of the room, and now stepped forward. He turned to face the majority of magicians and began to speak.

  Sonea listened closely. It had not been easy persuading him to offer a compromise to the Guild, and even now she was not completely sure if he would. He began by pointing out where the rule had failed, or had been applied unfairly. Then he tackled the reasoning of those opposed to the rule’s abolition. Then he began to paint a picture of a more unified Guild in conclusion. Sonea frowned. He is going to wind this up without even a suggestion that a compromise may be possible.

  “If there is to be a rule to prevent magicians and novices from involving themselves with criminal enterprises – and I do think there should be one – then it should be designed to achieve that. What is clear from the cases I have described is that this is not a rule suited for that purpose. It is ineffective and should be abolished.”

  I suppose the message is in there, though it’s very subtle, Sonea thought. Now let’s see if Regin keeps his side of our agreement.

  As Lord Pendel bowed to the audience and stepped aside, Administrator Osen returned to the front.

  “I now call upon Lord Regin to speak for the opposition to the abolition of the rule.”

  Regin strode forward. If he was disappointed with Pendel’s effort at suggesting a compromise, he didn’t show it. He turned to face the hall and began to speak.

  Knowing what she did about the corruption among the higher-class novices, Sonea could not help admiring how Regin managed to avoid saying anything that would directly reveal who the culprits and victims were. Yet he didn’t shy from claiming such corruption existed, and Sonea heard no more than a few protests from the watching audience of magicians.

  I wish I could have given him proof of the permanent effects of roet for magicians. It might have helped us persuade everyone that the rule should be changed, instead of abolished.

  As Regin concluded his speech, Sonea felt her heart skip a beat. He hadn’t suggested a compromise. But as he summed up, she realised there was a hint of admission in his words that the rule was ineffective as it stood. A subtle shift in position, but no stronger or weaker than Pendel’s.

  Had he anticipated that or did he change tack in response? Or did he have different approaches planned in case of different eventualities? She shook her head. I’m glad it’s not me down there, speaking in his place.

  “I now call for ten minutes of discussion,” Osen said. The gong rang out a second time and immediately the hall filled with voices. Sonea turned to watch and listen to the Higher Magicians.

  At first none spoke. All seemed hesitant and indecisive. Then High Lord Balkan sighed.

  “There is merit in both arguments,” he stated. “Do any of you favour one or the other?”

  “I favour keeping the rule,” Lady Vinara said. “These are bad times for relaxing control over magicians. The city is more corrupt than it has ever been, and keeping ourselves immune is more complicated now that we no longer all have similar strengths and weaknesses.”

  Sonea resisted a smile. “Strengths and weaknesses.” A clever way of pointing out we have different backgrounds without making one sound better than the other.

  “But it is clear the rule is unfair, and we do risk rebellion at the worst, or the loss of much-needed talent at the best,” Lord Peakin argued.

  “It is only the application of the rule that is at fault,” Vinara replied.

  “I don’t think the lowies will accept a promise we’ll be fairer,” Lord Erayk pointed out. “They need something stronger. A real change.”

  “Change sounds like the solution to me,” Lord Peakin said. “Or a clarification. What is an ‘unsavoury character’, after all?” His eyebrows rose and he looked around. “I’d find someone who smells bad unsavoury. That’s hardly justification for punishing a magician.”

  There were a few chuckles.

  “Black Magician Sonea.”

  Sonea felt her heart sink as she recognised Kallen’s voice. She looked past High Lord Balkan at the man.

  “Yes, Black Magician Kallen?” she replied.

  “You have been meeting with the representatives of both sides. What have you concluded?”

  The others were looking at her expectantly now. She paused to consider how to answer.

  “I am in favour of the rule being changed. Of removing the reference to ‘unsavoury characters’, which not only eases the restrictions and perceived prejudice against novices and magicians from poorer backgrounds, it strengthens the emphasis on ‘criminals’ as those we don’t want Guild members associating with.”

  To her consternation, none of the Higher Magicians looked surprised. Not even Rothen. Clearly they expected me to take this position. I hope that is because it is fairer, not because I grew up in the old slums.

  “Even with this change, the weakness of the rule is the ambiguity in what a criminal is, or whether an activity is a crime,” Lord Erayk said.

  “The king might not appreciate you calling his laws ‘ambiguous’,” Lord Peakin pointed out, chuckling. “His laws clearly state what is a crime.”

  “I agree that certain activities need to be defined,” Lady Vinara said. “As the laws stand, it is difficult for us to prevent criminals taking advantage of magicians when those magicians are in their pleasure houses – whether by luring them into debt through gambling, addling their minds with drink, rewarding them with free whores or poisoning them with roet. If I had my way, roet selling would be a crime.”

  “Why roet?” Lord Telano asked. “It is little different to drink, and I’m sure none of us would like wine to be declared illegal.” He glanced around, smiling and getting many nods in reply.

  “Roet does far more harm,” Vinara told him.

  “How so?”

  She opened her mouth, then shook her head as a gong rang out. “Come to the Healer’s Quarters – or Black Magician Sonea’s hospices – and you will see the truth of it.”

  Sonea’s heart skipped. Had Vinara investigated the effects of roet since Sonea told her of them? She looked at Vinara, but the woman’s attention was on Telano. He had turned away, scowling. I wonder why he is so bothered by Vinara’s position. And surely, as a Healer, he’s seen the effect of roet on its victims – even if he hasn’t realised it could be permanent. I must have a closer look at our Head of Healing Studies and talk to Lady Vin
ara again.

  Administrator Osen announced the end of discussion time, and all returned to their seats. “Does anybody have anything they wish to say on this subject that has not been raised yet?” he asked.

  A few magicians raised their hands. They were called to the floor. The first suggested that magicians should be subject to the same laws as ordinary Kyralians and there be no Guild rules at all. His proposal was met with a rumble of disagreement from all sides. The second magician declared that the rule should be changed, but his suggestion was that the rule should forbid magicians from involvement in or benefiting from criminal activity. This roused a thoughtful murmur. The last magician said only that the decision should be the king’s.

  “The king knows and has acknowledged that Guild rules, as opposed to laws, are for the Guild to make,” Osen assured them all. He turned to the front. “Do any of the Higher Magicians have anything further to add?”

  Nobody had suggested the simple change of removing “unsavoury characters” from the rule yet. Sonea drew in a deep breath and braced her feet, ready to rise.

  “I do,” High Lord Balkan said. Sonea glanced at him, then relaxed. He stood up. “A small change can make a great difference. I propose that we change the wording of the rule, leaving out the reference to unsavoury characters, since it is ambiguous and open to unfair interpretation.”

  Osen nodded. “Thank you.” He turned back to the hall. “Unless there is majority disagreement, we have four viable choices: abolish the rule in its entirety, leave it as it is, change it to remove reference to unsavoury characters, or change ‘associating with criminals and unsavoury characters’ to ‘involvement in and benefiting from criminal activity’. If we have a vote for change we will all vote again for our preference of the two choices. Form your globe lights now and move them into position.”

  Concentrating a little power, Sonea created a globe of light and sent it up, with the small cloud of globe lights belonging to the Higher Magicians, to float near the Guildhall ceiling. Hundreds of other lights joined it. The effect was dazzling.

  “Those in favour of abolition change your light to blue,” Osen ordered. “Those in favour of changing the rule make your light go green. Those favouring no change at all change to red.”

  The dazzling whiteness shifted to a brilliant mix of colours. Sonea squinted at the globe lights. There aren’t many red ones. A few more blue than red. But there are clearly more green than any other colour. She felt her heart lift with hope.

  “Now, those in favour of removing ‘unsavoury characters’ from the rule move your light to the front end of the hall, those in favour of changing it to forbid magicians from involvement in or benefiting from criminal activity move to the back.”

  Balls of light surged in different directions. There was a long pause while Osen stared upward, his lips moving as he counted. Then he turned to the Higher Magicians.

  “How many of each do you count?”

  “Seventy-five to the back, sixty-nine to the front,” Lord Telano replied.

  Sonea felt her breath catch in her throat. But that means …

  Osen nodded. “My count agrees with Lord Telano’s.” He turned to face the hall. “The vote is cast. We will change the rule so that it forbids magicians to ‘be involved in or benefit from criminal activity’.”

  Staring up at the globe lights, Sonea watched them flicker out of existence until one was left. Hers. She extinguished it, then looked down at Regin. His expression matched what she felt. Surprise. Perplexity. They chose an option introduced at the last moment, which changed the rule completely. Which both weakened and yet narrowed the focus of it. Magicians and novices can no longer be punished for indulging themselves in pleasure houses, because they’re no longer forbidden to associate with criminals. But at least they can’t be lured into criminal activity, which is what the rule was meant to prevent in the first place.

  Regin looked up at her and raised his eyebrows slightly. She lifted her shoulders a little and let them drop. He looked away and she followed the direction of his gaze to Pendel. The young man was smiling and waving at his supporters.

  It’s all the same to him, Sonea thought. He’s gained a better result than he was hoping for. But Regin looks worried now. Oh dear. I can’t believe I’m actually eager to meet with him again and find out what he thinks about this.

  But she’d also never thought she’d ever consult and plot with him. I guess it’s the price you pay for getting involved in Guild politics. Suddenly you have to be civil to old enemies. Well, thankfully it’s all decided now. I don’t have to talk to Regin again if I don’t want to.

  She looked down at him a second time. He definitely looked worried. She sighed.

  I guess one more chat wouldn’t hurt.

  CHAPTER 15

  LATE-NIGHT VISITORS

  The room’s walls were round, like the inside of a sphere. Like the Dome at the Guild, Lorkin thought. Are we home already?

  A large rock lay on the floor, at the lowest point of the curved surface. It was about the size of a small child curled up, but when he reached out to it he found it was small enough to fit into his palm. As he cupped it in his hand, it shrank rapidly, then vanished.

  Oh, no! I found the storestone, but I’ve lost it again. I’ve destroyed it. When the Sachakans find out they’re going to be furious! They’ll kill me and Dannyl …

  Yet the feeling of fear faded quickly. Instead he felt good. No, he felt very good. As if the sheets on his bed were moving across his skin, and getting rather personal in a nice way with parts of him that—

  Suddenly he was wide awake.

  And someone else was there, very, very close to him. Crouched on top of him. Smooth skin brushed against his. A pleasant scent filled his nostrils. The sound of breathing caressed his ear. He could see nothing. It was utterly dark in the room. But the sound of breathing was somehow recognisable as coming from a woman’s throat.

  Tyvara!

  He could feel that she was naked. And she now let her weight settle onto his body. He ought to be dismayed – to push her off – but instead a rush of interest went through him. She chose that moment to take advantage of his arousal and he gasped at the unexpected pleasure of her body and his locking together. Traitor, he admonished his body. I should stop her. But he didn’t. It’s not as if she isn’t willing, came another thought.

  He thought briefly of the time they’d spent talking, and how he had grown to like the glimpses he’d seen of a smart, strong woman under the forced submissiveness. You like her, he assured himself. That makes it all right, doesn’t it? But it was getting harder to think. His thoughts kept dissolving under waves of sheer physical pleasure.

  Her breathing and movements began to quicken and sensation intensified. He stopped trying to think and gave in. Then her body stiffened and she stopped moving. Her chest lifted away from his as she arched back. He smiled. Well, that proves that she is enjoying it, too. She gave a muffled cry.

  Muffled?

  Brilliant light suddenly dazzled his eyes. He squinted as his eyes adjusted, then realised two things.

  There was a hand covering Tyvara’s mouth.

  And it wasn’t Tyvara.

  Another woman loomed over him and the stranger, and he recognised her with a jolt. This was Tyvara.

  But her face was distorted by a savage scowl. She was straining to hold the stranger, who was still making muffled sounds and struggling. Something warm and wet dripped onto his chest. He looked down. It was red, and a trail of it was running down the stranger’s side.

  Blood!

  He felt cold all over, then horror filled him with strength and he pushed the stranger and Tyvara off him and scrambled away. The push caused Tyvara’s hand to slip from the stranger’s mouth and for her to nearly tumble off the end of the bed. As the stranger rolled onto her side, her eyes locked with Tyvara’s.

  “You! But … he has to die. You …” Blood leaked from her mouth. She coughed and clutched at her side. H
er expression filled with hatred even as she seemed to lose strength. “You are a traitor to your people,” she spat.

  “I told you I would not let you kill him. You should have heeded my warning and left.”

  The woman opened her mouth to reply, then tensed as a spasm locked her muscles. Tyvara grabbed the woman’s arm.

  She’s dying, Lorkin realised. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t just let her die. He sent out magic and surrounded Tyvara, pushing her away, then leapt onto the bed and reached out to the dying woman.

  And felt himself and his magic effortlessly countered by another force. It shattered the containment and rolled him off the end of the bed to land on the hard floor. He lay still, stunned. She has magic. Tyvara has magic. She isn’t what she is supposed to be. And … ouch!

  “I’m sorry, Lord Lorkin.”

  He looked up to see Tyvara standing over him. He glanced at the other slave, but she lay still with her back to him. He looked back at Tyvara. How strong is she? He eyed her doubtfully. Is she a Sachakan black magician? But they don’t teach women magic. Well, I suppose they might if they need a spy …

  “That woman was about to kill you,” she told him.

  He stared at her. “That wasn’t the impression I got.”

  She smiled, but there was no humour in it. “Yes, she was. She was sent here to do it. You’re lucky I arrived in time to stop her.”

  She’s mad, he thought. But she was also a magician of undetermined power. It would be safer to reason with her than try to call for help. And reasoning with her might be more convincing if he wasn’t half sitting, half lying on the floor with no clothes on.

  Slowly he got to his feet. She made no move to stop him. He saw that the woman she had stabbed was staring up at the ceiling. Or beyond it. And not seeing anything at all – or ever again. He shuddered.

  Backing up to the set of robes that the slaves had cleaned and left ready for him, hanging on the wall, he took the trousers. Blood had smeared across his chest. He wiped it off onto a cloth the slaves left each night, along with water and a bowl, so he could wash in the morning.