After a long pause, several sighs broke the silence. A shiver ran down Cery’s spine as he realised he was surrounded by several people. A thin beam of light appeared. One of the lamps. It was being held by a stranger.
Cery looked up at a young man, who was staring back at him.
“Who?” the man asked.
“Ceryni of Northside.”
“These?”
“My bodyguards.”
The man’s eyebrows rose, then he nodded. He turned to the others. Cery looked around to see six other young men, two sitting on top of Gol. Anyi was in a fighting crouch, a knife in both hands. The two young men standing on either side of her were keeping a safe distance, though they looked willing to risk a cut if their leader ordered them to take her down.
“Put them away, Anyi,” Cery said.
Without taking her eyes from them, she obeyed. At a nod from the leader, the two men climbed off Gol, who groaned with relief. Cery rose to his feet, turned back to the leader and straightened his shoulders.
“We seek safe passage.”
The young man’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “No such thing nowaday.” He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. “Wen.” He turned to speak to the others. “This name I know. One who leaves food. What we do?”
They exchanged glances, then muttered words to which he shook his head: “Kill?” “Free?” “Worm?” one said, and Wen looked thoughtful. He nodded. “Worm,” he said decisively. Somehow this resulted in nods, though whether of acceptance or agreement Cery couldn’t tell.
Wen turned to Cery. “You all come with us. We take you to Worm.” He gave Gol back his lamp, then looked at one of those who had been sitting on the big man. “Go tell Worm.”
The young man scampered off into the darkness behind Wen. As Wen turned to follow, Anyi reached out and took her lamp back from the youth holding it. Two of the youngsters hurried forward to join their leader Wen and the rest took positions at the rear.
No one spoke as they walked. At first Cery only felt an overwhelming relief at simply not running any more, though his legs were still shaky and his heart was beating too fast. Gol looked as winded as he did, he noted. As he recovered he began to worry again. He’d never heard of anyone meeting with a Slig called Worm. Unless... unless Worm isn’t really a man, but something they feed trespassers to.
Stop it, he told himself. If they wanted us dead, they wouldn’t have hidden us from our pursuers. They’d have stabbed us in the dark or led us into a dead end.
After walking for some time, a voice spoke in the darkness ahead, and Wen grunted a reply. Soon a man stepped into the light and the group stopped. He stared at Cery intently, then nodded.
“You are Ceryni,” he said. He extended a hand. “I am Worm.”
Cery held out his hand, unsure what the gesture meant. Worm grasped it for a moment, then let it go and beckoned. “Come with me.”
Another journey followed. Cery noticed that the air was growing humid, and from time to time the sound of running water came from a side passage or behind the walls. Then they stepped out into a cavernous room filled with the rush of water, and it all made sense.
A forest of columns surrounded them, each splaying out to form a brick archway that joined with its neighbour. The whole network formed a low ceiling that suggested draped fabric or a faren’s web. Below this was no floor, but the reflective surface of water. Their guide was now walking along what appeared to be the top of a thick wall. The water flowed past on either side. It was too dark to tell how deep it was.
Fortunately the path was dry and not at all slippery. Glancing back, Cery saw that the water flowed into tunnels which, by the slant of their roof, descended even further under the city. On either side he saw other wall tops, too far away to reach by leaping. The only illumination came from the lamps they carried.
The water itself was surprisingly free of floating matter. Only the occasional oily slick passed them, mostly smelling of soap and fragrance. The walls bore patches of mould, however, and there was an unhealthy dampness to the air.
A cluster of lights appeared ahead and Cery soon began to make out some sort of large platform bridging two of the walls. Several people were sitting on it, and a low murmur of voices echoed in the vast room. Beyond the platform Cery made out dark circles within a lighter area, and eventually picked out enough detail to see that they were more tunnels, this time set higher up and with water spilling out into the vast underground pool.
Their footsteps set the platform creaking as they followed Worm onto it. Looking at the people, Cery saw that none were older than their mid-twenties. Two of the young women nursed babies, and a toddler was tethered by a rope to the closest column, probably so that he did not scamper off the platform into the water. All stared at Cery, Gol and Anyi with wide, curious eyes, but none spoke.
Worm glanced at Cery, then gestured at the water outlets.
“This lot come from the Guild Baths,” he said. “Further south there are sewer pipes and those up north are both sewers and drains from the kitchens. But here the water is cleaner.”
Cery nodded. It wasn’t a bad place to settle, if you didn’t mind being underground and constantly surrounded by dampness. Looking to either side he made out other platforms, populated by more Sligs, and narrow bridges linking them.
“I never knew this was here,” he admitted.
“Right under your nose.” Worm smiled, and Cery realised how right the man was. This part of Slig territory ran under Cery’s own area. Cery turned to face him.
“Your people hid us from people who wanted to kill us,” he said. “Thanks. I would never have trespassed if I’d had another choice.”
Worm tilted his head to one side. “Not the Guild tunnels?”
So he knows I have access to them. Cery shook his head. “It would have shown them to my enemy. I’d have had to warn the Guild about that, and I don’t expect to like what they’d do about it. I’m guessing you would not like them snooping around down here either.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “No.” He shrugged, then sighed. “If we’d let the one who sent the hunters after you find you, he would find us too. Once he takes your things there is nothing stopping him from taking ours.”
Cery regarded Worm thoughtfully. The Sligs were far more aware of the goings-on in the world above than he’d have expected. They were right about Skellin. Once he held Cery’s territory he’d want control of the Sligs too.
“Skellin or me. Not much of a choice,” Cery said.
Worm shook his head and scowled. “He won’t let us ’lone, like you do.” He nodded toward the tunnels. “He will want those because he wants what they lead to.”
The Guild. Cery shivered. Was this a smart guess by the Slig leader, or did he know of Skellin’s specific plans? He opened his mouth to ask, but Worm turned to stare at Cery.
“I show you this so you know. But you can’t stay,” he said. “We will take you out in a safe place, but that is all.”
Cery nodded. “It’s more than I’d hoped for,” he replied, putting all his gratitude into his tone.
“If you must come back, speak my name and you will live, but we will take you out again.”
“I understand.”
Worm held Cery’s gaze for a little longer, then nodded. “Where do you want to go?”
Cery looked at Anyi and Gol. His daughter looked anxious, and Gol looked pale and exhausted. Where could they go? They had few favours left to them, and no safe place within easy reach. No allies they could trust or risk endangering. Except one. Cery turned back to Worm.
“Take us back the way we came.”
The man spoke a word to the youths who had rescued Cery and his companions. Worm gestured to indicate Cery should follow them; then, without voicing a farewell, he walked away. Taking that as a Slig custom, Cery turned also.
The journey out of Slig territory was slower, which Cery was grateful for. Now that fear and relief had both passed, he was tired. A gloom settl
ed over him. Gol was dragging his feet, too. At least Anyi had youthful stamina on her side. Cery began to recognise the walls around them, then the Slig guides melted away into the darkness. The lamp Cery was carrying spluttered and died as it ran out of oil. Gol did not protest as Cery took his lamp and led them to the entrance to the Guild passages.
When they had slipped through and the door was closed again, Cery felt much of the tension and fear leave him. They were safe at last. He turned to Anyi.
“So where is this room you and Lilia meet in?”
She took the lamp, leading him and Gol down the long, straight passage. After a side turn, they reached a complex of rooms connected by twisting corridors. An unwelcome memory rose of being locked in the dark, imprisoned by Lord Fergun, and Cery shivered. But these rooms were different: older and with a feel of deliberate confusion to the arrangement. Anyi took them into a room cleaned of dust, with a few small wooden boxes for furniture and a pile of worn pillows for seating. At one end was a bricked-up chimney. She set the lamp down, then lit a few candles in alcoves carved into the walls.
“This is it,” she said. “I’d have brought in more furniture but I couldn’t carry anything big and I didn’t want to draw attention.”
“No beds.” Gol settled down onto one of the boxes with a groan. Cery smiled at his old friend.
“Don’t worry. We’ll sort something out.”
But Gol’s grimace didn’t soften. Cery frowned as he noticed that Gol’s hands were pressed to his side under his shirt. Then he saw the dark stain, glistening in the candle light.
“Gol...?”
The big man closed his eyes and swayed.
“Gol!” Anyi exclaimed, reaching his side at the same time as Cery. They caught Gol before he could fall off the box. Anyi dragged pillows over.
“Lie down,” she ordered. “Let me look at that.”
Cery could not speak. Fear had frozen his mind and throat. The assassin must have stabbed Gol during the fight. Or perhaps before he woke up, and Cery had only seen Gol stop the second stab.
Anyi bullied Gol off the box and onto the pillows, pulling his hand away and peeling back the shirt to reveal a small wound in his belly, slowly seeping blood.
“All this time.” Cery shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Gol shrugged, then winced. “Didn’t start hurting until we were talking to Worm.”
“I bet it does now,” Anyi said. “How deep do you think it went?”
“Not far. I don’t know.” Gol coughed in pain.
“This could be worse than it looks.” Anyi sat back on her heels and looked up at Cery. “I’ll get Lilia.”
“No...” Gol protested.
“It was only a few hours until dawn when we left Cadia’s house,” Cery told her. “Lilia might be at the University already.”
Anyi nodded. “She might. Only one way to find out.” She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.
“Go,” he told her.
She took his hand and pressed it over the wound. Gol groaned.
“Keep pressure on it and—”
“I know what to do,” Cery told her. “If she’s not there at least get something clean to use as a dressing.”
“I will,” she said, picking up the lamp.
Then she was gone, her footsteps fading as she hurried into the darkness.
Chapter 2
Summoned
“Should I take Mother’s blood ring?” Lorkin asked as Dannyl walked through the open doorway of his rooms in the Guild House.
Dannyl looked down at the ring of gold Lorkin held, a globe of red glass set into the band. If something should go wrong during this meeting with the Sachakan king it would be good if we both have a way to communicate with the Guild, he thought. But if things go that badly both of our blood rings could be found and taken, and could be used as a tool of torture and distraction against Osen and Sonea.
That was the limitation of blood gems. They conveyed the thoughts of the wearer to the magician whose blood went into their making. The disadvantage was that the creator couldn’t stop sensing the thoughts of the wearer, which was particularly unpleasant if the wearer was being tortured.
This had been done to his old friend and mentor, Rothen, by one of the Sachakan outcasts – known as Ichani – who had invaded Kyralia twenty years before. The man had caught Rothen but, instead of killing him, he’d made a gem from Rothen’s blood. He had put it on every one of his victims so that Rothen received a flood of impressions from terrified, dying Kyralians.
Of Black Magician Sonea and Administrator Osen, who would be most affected if their ring was taken? Dannyl shivered at the obvious answer.
“Leave it,” he advised. “I’ll have Osen’s ring. Give Sonea’s to me and I’ll hide it, in case they read your mind and learn of it.”
Lorkin looked at Dannyl, an odd, half-amused expression on his face. “Don’t worry, they won’t read anything from me,” he said.
Dannyl stared at the young magician in surprise. “You can...?”
“In a limited way. I didn’t have the time to gain the skills the Traitors have at tricking a mind-reader. If someone tries it on me they won’t succeed, but they’ll know they aren’t succeeding.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Dannyl said. He took a step back toward the door. “I’ll go hide this and meet you in the Master’s Room.”
Lorkin nodded.
Dannyl hurried back to his rooms, ordered the slave to leave and stop anyone entering, then looked for a place to hide the gem. Lorkin can block a mind-read! Ashaki Achati, the Sachakan king’s adviser who had been Dannyl’s friend since he had arrived in Arvice, had said the Traitors had a way of doing it. How else did their spies, posing as slaves, avoid detection? I wonder what else Lorkin hasn’t told me. He felt a stab of frustration. Since returning to Arvice, Lorkin had been reluctant to say anything about the rebel society he’d lived with for the last few months. Dannyl understood that his former assistant had been entrusted with secrets he couldn’t reveal without risking many lives. But it gives the impression that his loyalties now lie with them more than with the Guild and Kyralia.
The young magician had begun wearing robes again, so he clearly still considered himself a Guild magician – despite telling Dannyl, back when they had met in the mountains, that the Guild should act as if he’d left it.
The legs of Dannyl’s travel chest were carved to look like tree stumps, with rough, twisted bark. Dannyl had cut out one of the twists with magic, making a small hollow behind it, in case he ever needed to hide Osen’s ring. Easing out the twist, he set Sonea’s ring inside, then plugged the hollow closed again. Then he set off for the Master’s Room, the part of a traditional Sachakan house where the head of a family greeted and entertained guests.
The Guild had never officially declared that Lorkin was no long a member, despite the awkward situation this had created between Sachaka and Kyralia. Aside from avoiding the pain this would have caused Sonea, the Higher Magicians did not want to appear to give up on finding wayward magicians too quickly. However, there had been a danger that doing nothing would make it seem as if they condoned Lorkin’s association with the rebels, which would strain relations between the Allied Lands and the Sachakan king.
Coming back to Arvice might have eased that strain, except for the fact that the Sachakan king badly wanted to know what Lorkin had learned about his enemy. He was about to be disappointed.
As soon as he knew the young magician had returned, King Amakira had sent orders forbidding Lorkin to leave the city. Dannyl had expected a summons to the palace to come soon after, but several days had passed with no further messages. No doubt the king had been consulting with his advisers.
Including Ashaki Achati, if his absence is any indication.
The adviser had not visited or sent any messages since the day he, Dannyl and Tayend had arrived home from their research trip to Duna. At the thought of t
he journey, Dannyl felt anger simmering. Tayend had manipulated Achati into taking him with them, then deliberately and successfully prevented Dannyl and Achati from becoming lovers.
Funny how that has made me want us to be together more, when before we left I was hesitant, and doubtful about the political consequences of such a relationship.
The fact that Tayend’s reasons for interfering were the same as those that had caused Dannyl to hesitate in the first place, and that the current situation was exactly the sort that would make such an affair awkward, did not make it any easier for Dannyl to forgive him for interfering.
Dannyl could not help hoping it was only the situation with Lorkin that kept Achati away, rather than that the man had given up on him.
He also could not help feeling a pang of guilt. Whether he and Achati were lovers or not, there would always be secrets they must keep from each other. Secrets like the Duna people’s proposal for an alliance or trade agreement with the Guild. That matter had been all but forgotten since Lorkin had returned. Once, the Guild would have been excited by any chance to acquire a new kind of magic, but the prospect of the same trade with the Traitors, who would be a more formidable ally, had eclipsed that.
Dannyl did not know exactly what the Traitors had told Lorkin to communicate to the Guild. Osen had decided that it was best that Dannyl did not know, in the unlikely event that his mind was read. Dannyl frowned. Osen must know that Lorkin can block a mind-read. Lorkin isn’t going to tell me anything he hasn’t already told Osen.
Arriving at the Master’s Room, he saw that Lorkin was already there. He, Tayend and Lady Merria, Dannyl’s assistant, were sitting on stools, talking quietly. They got to their feet as Dannyl entered.
“Ready?” Dannyl asked Lorkin.
Lorkin nodded.
Tayend gave the young magician a serious look. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, Ambassador,” Lorkin replied.
“We’ve both been asking our Sachakan friends what they think the king will do,” Tayend added, glancing at Merria. “Nobody wants to predict anything, but they all hope the king won’t do anything to upset the Allied Lands.”
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