The High Lord (2 page)

“You would both expose me if you could,” he said. “I will claim Sonea’s guardianship. She will ensure your silence. You will never cause anyone to know that I practice black magic while she is mine.” His eyes shifted to Sonea’s. “And Rothen’s wellbeing will be my guarantee that you will cooperate.”

Sonea set her feet on the path to the High Lord’s Residence. That confrontation had taken place so long ago, it felt as if it had happened to someone else, or to a character in a story she had heard. She had been Akkarin’s favorite for a year and a half now and it was not as bad as she’d feared. He hadn’t used her as a source of extra power, or tried to involve her in his evil practices. Aside from the sumptuous dinners she attended with him every Firstday evening, she rarely saw him at all. When they did speak, it was only of her training in the University.

Except for that one night,
she thought.

She slowed as she remembered. Many months ago, returning after classes, she had heard loud noises and shouting from below the residence. Descending the stairs to the underground room, she had witnessed Akkarin kill a man with black magic. He had claimed the man was a Sachakan assassin, sent to murder him.

“Why did you kill him?” she asked. “Why not hand him over to the Guild?”

“Because, as you’ve no doubt guessed, he and his kind know things about me that I’d rather the Guild did not. You must be wondering who these people are, and why they want me dead. I can tell you only this: the Sachakans still hate the Guild, but they also fear us. From time to time they send one of these, to test me.”

Sonea knew as much about Kyralia’s neighbor as any other third-year novice. All novices studied the war between the Sachakan Empire and the Kyralian magicians. They were taught that the Kyralians had won the war by forming the Guild and sharing magical knowledge. Seven centuries later, the Sachakan Empire was all but gone and much of Sachaka remained a wasteland.

When she thought about it, it was not hard to believe that the Sachakans still hated the Guild. This was probably the reason, too, why Sachaka was not a member of the Allied Lands. Unlike Kyralia, Elyne, Vin, Lonmar and Lan, Sachaka was not bound to the agreement that all magicians must be taught and watched over by the Guild. It was possible magicians existed in Sachaka, though she doubted they were well trained.

If they
were
a threat, surely the Guild knew about it. Sonea frowned. Perhaps some magicians
did
know. Perhaps it was a secret only the Higher Magicians and the King were allowed to know. The King would not want ordinary people worrying about the existence of Sachakan magicians— unless the Sachakans became a serious threat, of course.

Were these assassins threat enough? She shook her head. The occasional assassin sent to kill the High Lord wasn’t a serious matter if he could fend them off easily enough.

She checked her stride. Perhaps the only reason Akkarin
could
fend them off was because he strengthened himself with black magic. Her heart skipped a beat. That would mean the assassins were frighteningly strong. Akkarin had suggested that they knew he used black magic. They would not attack him without making sure they had a chance of killing him. Did this mean they, too, used black magic?

She shivered.
And each night I sleep in the same house as the man they’re trying to kill.

Perhaps this was why Lorlen hadn’t come up with a way to get rid of Akkarin yet. Perhaps he knew Akkarin had a good reason for using black magic. Perhaps he didn’t intend to oust Akkarin at all.

No,
she thought.
If Akkarin’s reasons were honorable, I would not be his hostage. If he’d been able to prove his motives were good, he would have tried to, rather than have two magicians and a novice constantly searching for a way to defeat him.

And if he was at all concerned for my wellbeing, why keep me in the residence, where the assassins are likely to strike?

She was sure Lorlen was concerned for her wellbeing. He would tell her, if he knew Akkarin’s motives were honorable. He wouldn’t want her to believe she was in a worse situation than she really was.

Abruptly, she remembered the ring on Lorlen’s finger. For more than a year, rumors had been circulating in the city about a killer who wore a silver ring with a red gemstone. Just like the one Lorlen wore.

But this
had
to be a coincidence. She knew a little of Lorlen’s mind and she could not imagine Lorlen murdering
anyone.

Reaching the door of the residence, Sonea stopped and took a deep breath. What if the man Akkarin had killed hadn’t been an assassin? What if he had been a Sachakan diplomat who’d discovered Akkarin’s crime, and Akkarin had lured him to the residence to kill him… and then discovered the man was a magician?

Stop! Enough!

She shook her head as if that would clear it of this fruitless speculation. For months she had considered these possibilities, going over and over what she had seen and been told. Every week she looked at Akkarin over the dinner table and wished she had the courage to ask him why he had learned black magic, but stayed silent. If she could not be sure that the answers were truthful, why bother asking the questions?

Reaching out, she brushed the handle of the door with her fingers. As always, it swung inward at the lightest touch. She stepped inside.

His tall, dark figure rose from one of the guestroom chairs. She felt a familiar twinge of fear and pushed it aside. A single globe light hovered above his head, casting his eyes into shadow. His lips curled upward at one side as if he was mildly amused.

“Good evening, Sonea.”

She bowed. “High Lord.”

His pale hand gestured to the stairway entrance. Putting her case of books and notes down, Sonea entered the stairway and started climbing. Akkarin’s globe light floated up the center of the stairwell as he followed. Reaching the second level, she walked down the corridor and entered a room furnished with a large table and several chairs. A delicious smell filled the air and set her stomach rumbling quietly.

Akkarin’s servant, Takan, bowed to her as she sat down, then left.

“What did you study today, Sonea?” Akkarin asked.

“Architecture,” she replied. “Construction methods.”

One eyebrow rose slightly. “Shaping stone with magic?”

“Yes.”

He looked thoughtful. Takan returned to the room carrying a large platter, from which he transferred several small bowls to the table, then strode away. Sonea waited until Akkarin began to select from the bowls, before loading her own plate with food.

“Did you find it difficult, or easy?”

Sonea hesitated. “Difficult at first, then easier. It’s… not unlike Healing.”

His gaze sharpened. “Indeed. And how is it different?”

She considered. “Stone does not have the natural barrier of resistance that the body has. It has no skin.”

“That’s true, but something like a barrier can be created if…”

His voice trailed off. She looked up to find him frowning, his gaze fixed on the wall behind her. His eyes shifted to hers, then he relaxed and looked down at the table.

“I have a meeting to attend tonight,” he said, pushing back his chair. “Enjoy the rest of the meal, Sonea.”

Surprised, she watched him stride to the door, then looked at his half-eaten meal. Occasionally she arrived for the weekly dinner to find Takan waiting in the guestroom with the good news that the High Lord would not be attending. But only twice before had Akkarin left the meal early. She shrugged and continued eating.

As she finished the course, Takan reappeared. He stacked the bowls and plates onto the platter. Watching him, she noticed a tiny crease between his eyebrows.

He looks worried,
she thought.

Remembering her earlier speculations, she felt a chill run up her spine. Was Takan afraid that another assassin might enter the residence looking for Akkarin?

Suddenly she wanted only to get back to the University. She stood up and looked at the servant. “Don’t worry about dessert, Takan.”

The man’s face changed subtly. Reading disappointment, she could not help feeling a pang of guilt. He might be Akkarin’s loyal servant, but he was also a gifted cook. Had he made a dish he was particularly proud of, and was dismayed that they were both leaving it uneaten?

“Was it something that will… keep a few hours?” she asked hesitantly.

He met her gaze briefly and, not for the first time, she caught a glimpse of a sharp intelligence there, not completely hidden behind his deferential manner.

“It will, my lady. Shall I bring it to your room when you return?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

Takan bowed.

Leaving the room, Sonea strode down the corridor and started down the stairs. She wondered again what part Takan played in Akkarin’s secrets. She had witnessed Akkarin taking strength from Takan, yet Takan obviously hadn’t been killed or harmed by it. And on the night of the assassination attempt, Akkarin had told her that Takan was from Sachaka. That brought up another question: if the Sachakans hated the Guild, why was one of them a servant of the High Lord?

And why did Takan sometimes call Akkarin “master” instead of “my lord?”

Lorlen was dictating an order for building materials when a messenger arrived. Taking the slip of paper from the man, Lorlen read it, then nodded.

“Tell the Stablemaster to prepare a carriage for me.”

“Yes, my lord.” The messenger bowed, then strode from the room.

“Visiting Captain Barran again?” Osen asked.

Lorlen smiled grimly at his assistant. “I’m afraid so.” He looked at the pen Osen was holding, poised above a sheet of paper, and shook his head. “I’ve lost the direction of my thoughts,” he added. “We’ll finish that tomorrow.”

Osen wiped the pen dry. “I hope Barran has found the killer this time.” He followed Lorlen out of the office. “Good night, Administrator.”

“Good night, Osen.”

As his assistant started down the University corridor toward the Magicians’ Quarters, Lorlen considered the young magician. Osen had noted Lorlen’s regular visits to the Guard House soon after they had begun. The young man was observant, and Lorlen knew better than to start making up complicated excuses. Sometimes giving the right amount of the truth was better than outright deceit.

He had explained to Osen that Akkarin had asked him to monitor the Guards’ efforts to find the murderer.

“Why you?” Osen had asked.

Lorlen had been expecting that. “Oh, I needed something to do in my spare time,” he had joked. “Barran is a family friend. I was hearing about these murders from him anyway, so the communication between us has just become an official one. I could send someone else, but I don’t want to be receiving the latest news thirdhand.”

“Can I ask if there’s a particular reason for the Guild to take an interest?” Osen had probed.

“You can ask,” Lorlen had replied with a smile. “I may not answer. Do you think there’s a reason?”

“I had heard that some people in the city believe magic is involved.”

“Which is why the Guild must be seen to be keeping an eye on the situation. The people should feel we’re not ignoring their troubles. We must take care not to show too much interest, however, or they’ll think there is truth to the rumor.”

Osen had agreed to keep his knowledge of Lorlen’s visits to the Guard to himself. If the rest of the Guild heard that Lorlen was following Captain Barran’s progress they, too, would wonder if magic was involved.

Lorlen was still uncertain whether magic
was
involved. There had been one incident, over a year before, in which a dying witness had claimed the murderer had attacked him with magic. The burns on the witness had looked like those from a heatstrike, but since then Barran had found no other evidence to confirm that the murderer—or murderers—used magic.

Barran had agreed to keep the possibility that the murderer might be a rogue magician to himself for now. If the news got out, Lorlen had explained, the King and the Houses would expect another hunt like the one that had been conducted for Sonea. They had learned from
that
experience that having magicians roaming all over the city would only send a rogue into hiding.

Lorlen strolled into the Entrance Hall. He watched as a carriage emerged from the stables and rolled down the road toward the University steps. As it pulled up, he descended to the vehicle, told the driver his destination and climbed aboard.

So what
do
we know?
he asked himself.

For weeks, sometimes months, victims had been killed with the same, ritualized method—a method that occasionally resembled a black magic ritual. Then, for a few months, there were no deaths at all, until a new series of murders gained the Guard’s attention. These, too, would be ritualized murders, but using a slightly different method than previously.

Barren had sorted the possible reasons for the change of method into two main categories. Either the murderer was acting alone and kept changing his habits, or each series of murders was carried out by a different man. A single man might change his habits to avoid detection, or to perfect the ritual; a succession of murderers might indicate some kind of gang or cult which required killing as an initiation or test.

Lorlen looked down at the ring on his hand. A few witnesses lucky enough to see the murderer and survive had reported seeing a ring with a red gem on his hand.
A ring like this?
he wondered. Akkarin had created the gem out of glass and his own blood on the night he had discovered Lorlen, Sonea and Rothen knew he had learned and used black magic. It enabled him to see and hear everything Lorlen did, and to communicate by mind without other magicians hearing.

Whenever the murders resembled a black magic ritual, Lorlen was unable to avoid considering the possibility that Akkarin might be responsible. Akkarin did not wear a ring in public, yet he could be slipping one on when he left the Guild. Why would he, though? He didn’t need to keep track of himself.