“I’ve found a leaky freshwater pipe under the University,” she told him. “It’s closer than the one you knew about, but just as slow. It’ll take a while to fill this. Be better if we had two buckets – one to leave there while it fills. Or I could try to make the leak worse.”
Cery shook his head. “They might notice and investigate. Let’s see if Lilia can get us another bucket. Or something less leaky.”
She nodded, then tucked the bucket under her arm and walked away.
He sat down again and felt his mood lighten a little. At times he doubted that they could live here at all, let alone comfortably. There was so much they had no access to. They relied entirely on Lilia for food – but thankfully not for water. They had nothing but a pile of old pillows, a few boxes and the cold floor to sleep and sit on. It wasn’t too cold, and the air didn’t appear to be getting stale.
The tap of footsteps reached him again, but whoever was approaching made no effort to be quiet. They were wearing boots or some other kind of sturdy shoe, but walked lightly.
Lilia. He smiled to himself. Helping her had proven to be very beneficial. He would never have left her floundering out in the city’s underworld on her own anyway, but not handing her over to the Guild straightaway had gained him a very useful ally. And Anyi likes her a lot.
A bright floating globe of light preceded Lilia into the room. She was carrying a bundle and a large glass flask, and smiled as she saw Cery. But as she looked around the room her cheerful expression faltered.
“Anyi?”
“Collecting some water,” he told her. “She found a leaky pipe.”
“Not a drainpipe, I hope.” She carefully set the bundle on an upended box and began to unwrap it.
“She says it’s clean,” he replied. He blinked in surprise at the amount of food she’d brought. Bread, a lacquered box of two layers, the lower portion filled with slow-cooked meat and the top one with seasoned vegetables. Since servants had to transport food to the magicians in their Quarters, they always used practical, tightly lidded heat-retaining containers. Though this would feed no more than three people, it was more than one person ought to have needed. “That’s... that’s your dinner?”
“And Sonea’s,” she told him. “Lord Rothen asked her over for a last meal together, and it was too late to tell Jonna.”
“What smells delicious?” another voice asked.
Lilia grinned as Anyi entered the room. “Dinner. I brought some lamp oil and candles, too.”
“Ooh!” Anyi drew a box closer and grabbed a chunk of bread. Somehow Gol had woken up and got to his feet without groaning, and was leaning over the food.
“Won’t the servants notice if you eat enough for two people?” Cery asked, helping himself.
Lilia shrugged. “Jonna is always trying to get me to eat more, and she’s used to Anyi dropping by and eating everything in sight.”
“Hai!” Anyi protested.
Lilia chuckled. “She doesn’t mind.”
“What about you?” Gol asked, looking up at Lilia and gesturing at the food.
“I ate extra at the midday meal,” the girl replied. “And snuck some bread and fruit into my bag to eat later.”
“This last meal Sonea and Rothen are having. Just how ‘last’ is it?”
Lilia’s expression became serious. “She’s leaving tomorrow night. It’s official, too. She’s going because Lord Lorkin returned to Arvice, and the Sachakan king put him in prison when he refused to betray the Traitors.”
Cery felt his stomach sink. To learn your child was in prison... Still, at least he’s alive and no longer trapped in a secret city of rebels. That’s one step closer to home. After all these years of maintaining peace and benefiting from new avenues of trade, surely the Sachakans won’t endanger it all by killing a Guild magician.
He had to admit, he didn’t know enough about Sachaka to be sure.
“I’m glad we didn’t tell her we were here,” he said. “She doesn’t need to be worrying about us as well.”
Anyi nodded. “It’ll be easier for Lilia to help us now she doesn’t have to worry about Sonea finding out.”
“But Sonea’s the only one who would defend us if the Guild found out we were down here,” Gol said, shaking his head.
“What about Kallen?” Anyi asked, looking at Lilia.
Lilia shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to rely on him.”
“Then we’d better make sure we aren’t discovered,” Cery said. “Have you spoken to Kallen? Did he have any news for us?”
“I have, and no,” Lilia replied. She sighed. “He doesn’t seem inclined to confide in me.”
“You’ll just have to win him over,” Anyi told her.
As Gol slurped up the last of the sauce in the meat section of the pot, Cery wiped his hands on the edge of the cloth the food had been bundled in.
“In the meantime,” he said to Lilia, “you need to check Gol. If he’s healing up well then you need to come with me to the entrance to the Guild tunnels. None of us is going to be truly safe until we find a way to block it so that no Thief’s man could get through. If that means collapsing the roof, then that’s what we’ll have to do.” He turned to Anyi. “Then I want you to show me these escape routes. Maybe they’ll take us close to where servants toss out things magicians don’t use any more.”
The girls both grinned. “A bit of exploring sounds like fun,” Lilia said.
“Don’t you have some studying to do?” Cery asked.
Her face fell. “Do I ever not have studying to do?” She sighed, then looked at Anyi reproachfully. “You get to have all the fun.”
Anyi shook her head. “You don’t get to say that until I have a nice soft bed down here and regular steamy hot baths.”
Lilia’s eyes widened in mock apology. “Actually, now that you mention baths and body odour—”
Though she was clearly expecting it, she still only just managed to dodge Anyi’s punch to her arm. Chuckling, she slipped out of reach and headed toward Gol.
Chapter 6
Permission Granted
The two middle-aged men were still in their cell when Lorkin returned from his second day with the interrogator, but the couple who had been imprisoned there had gone. Once again water had been left for him, but no food. Hunger had made it difficult to sleep until he gave in again and soothed it away with magic.
It was impossible to tell what time it was. No windows allowed in light to indicate day or night. Lorkin had to rely on the routine of the interrogator and watcher to measure the passing of the days. When he woke he noted that the watcher was still in place, gazing at him with alert eyes but no expression. Sitting with his back to the wall, Lorkin entertained himself with mental games and memories.
A sound eventually drew his attention. Footsteps warned of someone approaching. The watcher turned away, then stood up. Lorkin sighed quietly and got to his feet, bracing himself for another day of questions and hunger.
Instead of the interrogator, a male slave appeared holding a tray on which lay a bowl, a lump of bread and a goblet. Lorkin could not help feeling his heart skip with hope as the watcher examined the items then stepped forward to open the gate to his cell.
The slave’s eyes remained downcast as he stepped inside, lowered the tray to the floor and backed out again.
The watcher paused to regard Lorkin thoughtfully after he’d relocked the gate. Lorkin waited until the man returned to his seat before approaching the tray. He picked it up and carried it to the far side of the cell.
The bowl was full of a cold, opaque soup. The goblet contained wine. There were no utensils.
If any of this is poisoned, I won’t know until I try eating it. I’ve never had to Heal away poison before. It’ll use up more of Tyvara’s power than simply quashing hunger. Should I risk it? Do I need to eat badly enough?
The particles in the soup were settling to the bottom, leaving most of the liquid clear. But the growing sediment was not forming a flat layer
. It clung to something lying at the bottom. Something square and thin. He felt a tingle run down his spine.
Aware that the watcher was observing his every move, he drew a tiny amount of magic and used it to gently nudge the particles away from the object. At first the soup clouded at the slightest stirring, but soon it settled allowing him to confirm what he’d suspected.
The object was a piece of paper.
‘Boil soup to make safe. Bread good. Wine bad.’
Beneath was a squiggle. It would have been taken as a flourish or hastily drawn initials by someone else, but Lorkin recognised it as one of the code signs the Traitors had told him to look for.
They know I’m here, he thought, his heart lifting in relief and hope. They’re going to get me out of here. But even as the thought crossed his mind he knew he could not expect that much. The prison was under the very palace itself and guarded by Ashaki and the independent, fiercely loyal guard class that was unique to this place.
It was nice to know the Traitors were trying to help him, though. Drawing more magic, he set the soup boiling. That at least explained to the watcher why he’d been staring at it so intently. He still drank it slowly and paid attention to his body in case the note was a clever lie. The bread was stale, so he dipped it in the soup to soften it.
He didn’t touch the wine. Would the interrogator, or whoever had poisoned it, wonder how Lorkin had known to avoid it, or would he assume Lorkin simply didn’t want his senses fogged by wine during the next session?
Not long after he’d finished eating, the slave returned for the tray. Lorkin held it up for the man to take. The slave’s gaze rose to meet his.
“Lord Dannyl says King Merin wants you to tell them everything,” the man said, his words barely a whisper.
Lorkin nodded to show he understood, and turned away so that the watcher would not see his smile.
As if I’d believe that! They must think I’m stupid, if they think I’d accept such an order from anyone but Dannyl himself. Even then... I’d have to consider that Dannyl was being blackmailed or threatened.
Administrator Osen had given Lorkin a code word as well, in case the Sachakans tried something like this. Forcing the smile from his face, Lorkin leaned back against the wall and waited for the interrogator to arrive and the day’s questioning to begin.
* * *
The Foodhall was almost vibrating with noise, despite the midday meal finishing some time ago. Lilia resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at the other novices. The sudden announcement that lessons had been cancelled for the afternoon while the entire Guild attended a Meet had sent them into a mix of giddy exhilaration at their unexpected freedom and excited speculation as to the cause of the meeting.
Lilia already knew the reason for it, but nobody was asking her and she had much more important things to worry about. Like keeping Cery, Gol and Anyi fed and supplied with lamp oil and candles. Lilia had decided Jonna, Sonea’s servant, was the key to both. She had to find a way to persuade the woman to bring more supplies these things to Sonea’s rooms, without it sounding suspicious.
It was easy enough to smuggle small items into the tunnels. The lacquered boxes that servants used to carry food could be lowered down the gap in the wall of Sonea’s room using magic. Larger items like whole pieces of furniture weren’t going to fit in the narrow space, however. Perhaps they could use other entrances to the tunnels. She had heard that there were some in the University.
Even if she did find another way in, most of the furniture in the Guild was old and valuable so likely to be missed. The servants’ furniture might be less precious, but they lived and worked away from the areas magicians and novices frequented. If Lilia wandered over to the servants’ quarters, or even slipped into the kitchens beside the Foodhall, she’d stand out like, as her mother would say, “a prince at a beggar’s ball”.
I need to find cast-offs that nobody is using. They’ll probably be broken, but I suppose we can try to fix them. We might have to pull them apart and reassemble them anyway, to get them into the tunnels. I’d have to get hold of some wood and nails – and tools. Hmm, if I’m going to do that, maybe we could smuggle wood in and make furniture from scratch.
“Look, it’s the black novice.”
The words were spoken loudly and from close by. Lilia looked up and met the eyes of the speaker. He was Bokkin, a tall novice – a lowie who liked to bully those weaker than him. None of the lowies protested too loudly because he was bold enough to pick on the snooties as much as the lowies.
He’d stopped to lean on a nearby table, the usual group of followers hovering around him. She doubted they actually liked him. More likely they allied themselves with him to avoid being his target.
“Got anybody killed lately?” he asked, his lips twisted in a sneer.
She tilted her head to the side and pretended to consider. “Well, no actually.”
“What are you going to do with yourself now that Black Magician Sonea is leaving?” He pushed away from the table. “You’ll be all alone in her rooms. Got a new girlfriend? Or do you want to see what a man’s like for once?” He strutted up to her table and thrust his groin close to her face. “How about I show you what you’ve been missing?”
So they know Sonea’s leaving. Lilia leaned back and looked up at him. She’d considered that someone might try to take advantage of the situation, but hadn’t expected anyone to test her so soon.
“You never showed any interest before.” She stood up slowly, staying close so that her face ended up near to his, and stared straight into his eyes. “Must be the black magic that changed your mind. You’re attracted to it, aren’t you? The thrill of danger. I’ve been told to watch for people like you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she grabbed his face, fingers digging into the flesh of his jaw. At the same time she pushed at him with a sharp jab of magic, forcing him to stagger backwards before he could summon up the magic to resist it. She followed and pressed him back against the edge of the next table.
“You know what’s going on in that Meet? Black Magician Sonea is taking power from every magician in the Guild. Using black magic. One day – maybe one day soon – I might do that to you. You’ll have no choice. King’s orders. Do you really want to give me reason to make it as unpleasant as possible?”
He stared back at her, his face pale. She let go and wiped her hand on the front of his robe. The novices around her were silent, and the silence was spreading. She did not take her eyes from Bokkin, but she could see in the edges of her vision that faces were turning toward her.
“You had better hope she returns,” she told him. She turned her back, picked up her bag and the pieces of fruit and spiced bread rolls she’d collected for her evening meal, and left the hall.
As she stepped into the corridor she felt a rush of triumph.
That’ll get them talking. And worrying about the reason for Sonea’s trip to Sachaka, but they’ll wonder about that anyway. I’m not going to let anyone think that her leaving makes me vulnerable.
If the only future she had was to be restricted to the Guild grounds, groomed to be a protector of the Allied Lands and the main target of any enemy who might attack, then she wanted to be treated with respect in return.
Failing that, with people like Bokkin who are too stupid to remember who’ll be risking their life for him, I’ll settle for being feared.
* * *
From her seat at the front of the Guildhall, Sonea watched the gathering magicians and struggled to keep her breathing slow and even.
What will they do? Is twenty years of getting used to the idea of black magic long enough for them to agree to take part in it? Will they consider my mission to free my son justification enough?
It would have been easier to dismiss these questions if the other Higher Magicians hadn’t also expressed the same concerns earlier. None could predict the outcome of the Meet. All had thought some magicians would refuse to give their magic and some would not, but
their opinions differed greatly on the likely numbers of either.
On both sides of the long hall, magicians were taking their seats. As always, patches of green, red and purple formed where friends of the same discipline gathered together. The dominant colour was the Alchemist’s purple, but the numbers of Healers had grown in the last few decades and there was plenty of green around the hall. Though more Warriors existed than ever before, red robes were still in the minority. This didn’t worry her, though. While most magicians dedicated their energies to something more useful, she knew that the majority of them still maintained their fighting skills in their spare time.
At the front of the hall the Higher Magicians waited. Only Administrator Osen was missing from the tiered seats. As always he would address the room from the Front, the area before the Higher Magicians. Sonea looked at the row of seats above hers. The king’s chair was empty, but both King’s Advisers had joined the Meet – which was unusual. Adviser Glarrin met her eyes and nodded; Adviser Rolden, who had been present twenty years before when she and Akkarin had been judged and exiled, glanced at her and frowned.
Looking down, Sonea noted how the Higher Magicians in the lower tiers of seats kept casting glances upward. From his place among the Heads of Studies in the bottom row, Rothen met Sonea’s eyes. He looked grim, but managed a reassuring smile.
Their dinner the night before had been shadowed by frightening possibilities. She knew he was wondering if this was the last time he’d see her. It was another fear to add to the worry that he’d never see Lorkin again. He’d offered to go with her. She’d reminded him that he knew too much about her other reason for the journey. He’d nodded, then said that he would take comfort from the fact she had chosen a reliable assistant.
Looking around the hall, she searched for Lord Regin and found him sitting, as she’d expected, near the front. He looked serious and aloof. This might have been a deliberate mask of his true feelings, but it was hard to tell. He always looked serious and aloof.
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