He had to bend close to see the end of the tubes Gol had inserted in each hole, each with a little tongue of oily paper protruding.
“How many more do you want to do?” Cery asked.
Gol had moved to the opposite wall. “Depends how quick you think we can light them. You don’t want the first lot to go off while we’re lighting the rest. If I do five in each wall and we do a wall’s worth each, we might get them all lit. Bring me a tube, will you?”
Moving to the box of fruit Lilia had brought them the night before, Cery emptied it and lifted the sacking at the bottom. He’d stored the minefire underneath, relying on Anyi’s dislike of fruit to keep her from discovering it.
As he carried the first tube to Gol, he noticed a fine stream of dust leaking from a fold in the paper at one end.
“It’s broken. Is that bad?”
Gol turned and his eyes widened. “Hold it so the hole’s at the top,” he said urgently.
Cery did so and the leak stopped. “Is it that dangerous?”
“Yes.” Gol’s expression was serious. “Get too much of this floating in the air, a candle or lamp could set it off.” He looked down at the tube, then tipped a little powder into his palm before stuffing it into the wall. “I’ll show you. Take a candle out into the passage and put it down about twenty paces away.”
No more than a pinch of the dust lay in Gol’s hand. Cery picked up a burning candle and took it out of the room, setting it down in the passage. Gol beckoned, then shooed Cery behind him. “You’d better cover your ears.”
Cery did as Gol advised.
“Watch this.”
He gathered the powder between two fingers, dashed forward and threw it at the candle. A flash of light dazzled Cery’s eyes, and at the same time a sound like a very large hand slapping a table echoed in the passage. Dust and dirt trickled and puffed out of the walls near the candle, which was suddenly much shorter and surrounded by a molten pool of wax.
Cery removed his hands. That, from just a pinch. And we have a lot more of it in those tubes.
“Are you sure you want to put that many tubes in the wall?”
Gol shrugged. “Gotta put it somewhere. Safer if it’s in the wall, than in the room with us.”
Of course. Even if we leave it in the fruit bowl, it could still go off when the rest does. Better it fries the inside of a wall than us. “How long do the delay strips take to burn?”
“A count to twenty.” Gol retrieved the candle, gave it to Cery and moved back into the room. “If we don’t have enough time, we might get away with only lighting one on each side. When it goes it should set the others off.”
“So we each light one, then run.”
Gol frowned. “Is that Anyi coming back already?”
Cery listened. As he heard the faint sound of footsteps he hurried over to the fruit box and placed the sacking and fruit over the tubes again, while Gol hid his drilling tools. Just in case it wasn’t Anyi, they kept hold of their candles. A moment later a low whistle echoed quietly in the passage and they relaxed.
Cery whistled back and a moment later Anyi hurried inside clutching her lamp. He realised that he’d assumed she was further away because her steps had been so faint. As she saw them, she let out a quick breath.
“One of the walls has collapsed near Lilia’s barrier. Or it was broken. Whatever the reason, there’s now another way to get through to here without breaking her barrier.”
Cery’s heart skipped a beat. “Any tracks?”
Her shoulders lifted. “I couldn’t see. I shuttered the lamp so they wouldn’t notice the light and came straight here. I didn’t hear anything, though.”
Cery looked at Gol. His bodyguard stared back, his face full of concern.
“I think you should get Lilia,” Gol said.
“She’ll be in class. I can’t just—”
“Go to Sonea’s room,” Cery said firmly. “Tell Jonna to fetch Lilia.”
“You should come with me. Hide in Sonea’s room.”
“If we hear anything, we’ll follow you,” Cery told her. “Now go.”
She paused, biting her lip, then hurried away. Gol didn’t even wait until her footsteps had faded. He dove for the drill and all but attacked the wall with it. Cery tipped the fruit out of the box and carried it over to his friend. Four more tubes of minefire lay in the base. Gol’s words repeated in his mind even as he listened, straining his ears, for any sound in the passages.
“Safer if it’s in the wall, than in the room with us.”
He wasn’t sure if his heart was racing more from anticipation or fear. Was Skellin approaching? Would they get to spring their trap at last? Would it create a big hole in the Gardens and expose the Rogue to the Guild, as they’d planned? Or would Skellin, not expecting the blast, die?
Whatever happens, at least Anyi is out of the way. I have no intention of dying along with Skellin, but the fewer of us around the less chance that one of us will be hurt.
Chapter 22
An Old Enemy
Squinting at the dark smudge on the road ahead, Lorkin wasn’t able to make out much more than the impression of movement. Looks like a group of people on horseback. He glanced at Savara. The queen’s attention was on the road so she could not have missed them, yet she did not look concerned.
He turned to Tyvara, riding beside him, catching her shifting her weight in the saddle and grimacing. Seeing him notice, she smiled. “Only been a few hours and I’m chafing already.”
Ex-slaves had given them horses at one of the estates they’d freed that morning. “Freed” simply meant walking in and executing the Ashaki owners and his magician brethren. Often the men had no more warning of an imminent attack than their slaves suddenly disappearing. Though they all put up a fight, most of them obviously weren’t in the habit of keeping their store of magic well boosted. Why would they? They’re not Ichani, constantly under threat from other black magicians. They probably only stock up on power when they need it for a particular task. It made their death seem less like casualties of war. More like murders.
It feels like we’re breaking into these people’s homes and killing husbands, sons and fathers, not waging a war. If we faced them in a unified front we’d still be killing husbands, sons and fathers, but it would seem justified. Yet the Traitors weren’t triumphant victors, casually or vengefully killing off the families, looting and torturing. If they had been, Lorkin might have regretted his decision to join them. Instead they were merciful and efficient.
But ruthless.
He thought of the gemstone his mother had given him.
He reminded himself that his father had extracted a promise from Zarala that the Traitors would end slavery. His father had wanted this to happen. Every time Lorkin doubted, or lost courage, he looked to the newly freed slaves, and told himself this was all for a good cause.
He had expected the Traitors would encounter better-prepared Ashaki once the invasion began, but it was clear each was surprised by the attack. Perhaps those killed earlier were too occupied in their own defence to send a warning to others. Perhaps they relied on slaves to send messages, but the slaves who supported the Traitors ensured that those loyal to their masters did not leave to warn others.
Eventually a warning would get through, Lorkin knew. Maybe an Ashaki would mentally send a warning, either broadcasting it or communicating through a blood ring. Even if Savara’s team managed to kill them before they got the chance, other teams might not. Once the news got ahead of the advancing Traitors, nothing would stop it spreading to the city. When it did, the Traitors would not be attacking one or two magicians at each estate, but an army of them. Which was why the shadow on the road ahead had set his heart racing.
He focused on Tyvara’s mind and sensed eager expectation, with only a small pang of worry. No more Traitors have died, he caught. But it won’t be long... She noticed him frowning at her, and smiled.
“Don’t worry. It’s just another team. As we all get closer to
the city, teams will meet and join up.”
Relieved, he turned to watch as the other Traitors approached. Shadows resolved into figures on horseback. Riders became women and men. Faces became recognisable. He heard Tyvara curse at the same time as he realised one face was familiar.
“What is she doing here?” he muttered.
Tyvara sighed. “Kalia’s punishment was suspended for the duration of the invasion,” she told him. “As was mine. It would be unfortunate if we lost, but for the power of two magicians.”
He watched as Kalia’s eyes moved over Savara’s group, then her expression turned sour as she saw him and Tyvara.
“We are all on the same side,” Tyvara said. “But I do wish Kalia had been put in a team attacking the opposite side of the city,” she added in a lower tone.
Savara turned to look at them both. “I will be keeping an eye on her. And an ear.” She looked back at the approaching team and urged her horse forward to meet them. To Lorkin’s relief, the woman who came to meet her was not Kalia. It was Speaker Halana, leader of the stone-makers.
“At least she’s not leading the team,” he said.
Tyvara chuckled. “We aren’t that stupid.”
Halana placed a hand over her heart briefly, then took hold of the reins again to guide her horse to a stop next to Savara’s mount.
“Any news?” Savara asked.
“We’ve lost Vilanya and Sarva,” Halana replied. “They were ambushed.”
“So the Ashaki are warned.”
“Most likely. Any trouble?”
“A few slaves getting a little too eager,” Savara replied. She sighed. “Those in one estate killed an entire family and the head slave, who was one of our allies. I told them this isn’t our intention, but I don’t think they were listening.”
Halana nodded. “There will be more trouble of that kind. I have been hinting that we want to deal with the families ourselves, later.”
“That might work, so long as they don’t take on the role of jailor too enthusiastically.” Savara looked around. “Let’s continue.”
The two groups mingled to become one. Lorkin noted that Kalia positioned herself so that Savara and Halana were between her and Tyvara. The two leaders discussed what they would do if freed slaves were unable to provide the Traitors with food. Not long had passed when Savara suddenly spoke loud enough for all to hear.
“What is this problem you are discussing, Kalia?”
Lorkin looked over to see the woman glance at him, then back at the queen. Her back straightened.
“We have a non-Traitor among us. I was merely advising Cyria that she be careful.”
“Cyria need not be wary of anybody here. We are all Traitors.”
“Lorkin is Kyralian.”
“Kyralian born. Now a Traitor. There are ex-slaves and women who were formerly wives and sisters of the Ashaki among us. All chose to join us. All are needed.”
“But he is a Guild magician, and a man.”
Savara smiled. “If my meeting with his mother had achieved its purpose, we would be marching toward Arvice along with many hundred Guild magicians, among them quite a few men. Would so much masculine company alarm you, Kalia?”
“Of course not! Though I would not so easily trust them, as you might.” Kalia gave Savara a sidelong look. “So... the Guild won’t go to war with the Ashaki. And he is still here? Are you sure he isn’t a spy?”
“I am sure.”
“Do you really expect...?” Kalia fell silent as one of the Traitors at the rear called Savara’s name. All turned to see the man pointing back along the road. Several hundred strides back, a cloud of dust billowed up behind a rider galloping toward them.
“Stop,” Savara ordered. “And shield.”
It was not long before the rider reached them, the horse slowing to a walk, sides heaving and dark with sweat. The rider was a young man wearing fine clothing, but his build and colouring suggested he was an ex-slave.
“Queen Savara,” he said, placing a hand over his heart briefly. “I have been sent to warn you that two Kyralians are following you.” He paused to think. “Black Magician Sonea and Asha – Lord Regin. We tried to keep them at the estate, but they disobeyed our order to stay and forced their way out with magic.”
Lorkin suppressed a sigh. He should have expected it. But if I couldn’t let Tyvara go to war without me, why would I expect my mother to do the same?
“Was anyone hurt?”
The man shook his head.
Kalia muttered something. Savara stared at the woman through narrowed eyes. Then she turned to Lorkin, her eyebrows rising in question.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t say she was planning to follow me – us.”
“Spy,” Kalia said.
The queen scowled. “Enough, Kalia.” She looked around the group, her gaze settling on two of the Traitors, one male and one female. “Saral, Temi. Go meet Black Magician Sonea and ask her to explain herself.” She reached into a pouch at her waist and drew out a ring. As she tossed it to the woman, a glint of yellow reflected the sunlight. “Use this to tell me what they say.”
The pair nodded and, frowing with obvious annoyance at the task, rode away with the messenger. Savara nudged her horse into a walk and set her gaze on the road ahead. In grim silence, the two teams continued, heading for the next estate, and the next battle.
* * *
Lilia drew in a deep breath and sighed it out again as she set pen to paper and tried to make sense of her notes from the morning’s Healing demonstration. Though the number of subjects she was studying had been reduced and her graduation delayed, she still found it hard to concentrate at times like these.
It was easier to be motivated when I thought I might choose the Healing discipline. Now that I won’t get to choose a discipline at all, what’s the point? She’d be a black magician, and it was more important that she was ready to fight than Heal. Not that I’ve suddenly become enthusiastic about Warrior lessons. But these new lessons with Kallen have been interesting. Perhaps because there is a lot we can discover about black magic. It’s not as though the Guild has been studying it for centuries and knows everything about it.
This morning’s Healing demonstration had been on a man who had been stabbed accidentally during a sword-fighting lesson. The wooden practice sword had pierced the toughened leather armour, but hadn’t penetrated deeply. It was a rare occurrence. A slash with a sword usually slid across the armour, and stabs weren’t supposed to be made with full force. But he’d been leaping toward his fighting partner, who had been angry and used more force than he’d realised.
A quick, forceful stab, she thought. Which is what I want to do with magic, instead of using a knife, to break the skin’s natural barrier before using black magic to take power. Something caught her attention, and she looked up to find the teacher watching her. She realised she had been staring at nothing, her notes forgotten. And thinking about how to kill someone with black magic.
Other faces turned toward her, but she ignored them. When she’d entered the University that morning, and then the Foodhall later, the stares and whispering of other novices had been almost as bad as when she’d first returned to the University. Most likely Bokkin had said something about her lesson with Kallen. Not the truth, of course. Bokkin wouldn’t want to admit he’d got himself into a situation where his mind had been read, so he had probably made something up. She wished Kallen had said what he wanted from Bokkin in front of the other novices. Then they would know she’d read Bokkin’s mind, and if she revealed anything about him he couldn’t deny it was true.
Not that I’m going to be telling people what I saw in his mind, she thought. It just seems wrong. Though Bokkin hadn’t been tricked or coerced, and he could have left at any time. He could claim otherwise. He can’t accuse Kallen or me of anything, because he’d have to let a magician read his mind to confirm it. Still, he could insinuate that something else happened.
She considered his p
lan – his need – to weaken others before they became stronger than him. If he didn’t like anyone being stronger than him, then he was never going to be happy. He was surrounded by stronger magicians and, since his magical strength was average, he always would be.
Maybe he’ll go somewhere else, once he graduates. Somewhere everyone else is weaker. She shuddered. What would he do in order to assure himself that he was the strongest, and make sure others knew it, too? Someone needs to keep an eye on him. Perhaps Kallen would, or the other Higher Magicians. Or her. One day she would be a Higher Magician. She could end up being the one who had to watch Bokkin.
“Lady Lilia.”
Her heart skipped as she realised she had been staring at nothing again. The teacher didn’t stare disapprovingly, however. She pointed toward the door. Following the woman’s gaze, Lilia saw a familiar face and felt her heart jump again.
Jonna. The servant beckoned.
Rising from her seat, Lilia bowed to the teacher, then slipped between the desks and out of the room.
“What is it?” she asked as Jonna glanced up and down the corridor.
“Anyi was in Sonea’s rooms,” she said. “She said there might be an intruder down... you know where.”
Lilia caught her breath. “How long ago?”
“She’d been waiting for a time, but I’m not sure how long. Took me a while to find which classroom you were in.”
“I should hurry...” Lilia took a step down the corridor, then stopped. “I should go the other way. It’ll be faster. Could you go back and tell her?”
Jonna shook her head. “She went straight back.” The servant frowned. “If you mean the way I think you mean... I’ll come and make sure nobody sees you using it.”
“Thanks, Jonna.” Lilia headed toward a side passage and led Jonna deeper into the University. When they reached the hidden door Anyi had unblocked, Jonna moved to the next side corridor and peered down it.
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