The High Lord (25 page)

“Was she sure they were black?” Sarrin asked. “Any color may look black in the darkness.”

Barran nodded. “I asked her the same question. She was sure of it. He walked past the doorway she was hiding in. She described black robes, with an incal on the sleeve.”

Expressions changed from skepticism to alarm. Lorlen stared at Barran. He could hardly breathe.

“Surely n—” Sarrin began, but fell silent as Balkan gestured for him to wait.

“Go on, Captain,” Balkan said quietly, “tell them the rest.”

Barran nodded. “She said his hands were covered in blood, and he was carrying a knife. She described it well. A curved blade, with gemstones set into the handle.”

A long pause followed, then Sarrin drew in a deep breath. “How reliable is this witness? Can you bring her here?”

Barran shrugged. “I took her name and noted the workplace on her token. To tell the truth, I did not begin to give her story any credit until I heard what Lord Balkan had discovered in the house. Now I wish I had asked her more questions, or kept her at the Guard House longer.”

Balkan nodded. “She will be found again. Now,” he turned to Vinara, “perhaps it is time to hear what Lady Vinara has discovered.”

The Healer straightened. “Yes, I fear it is. Lord Jolen was living with his family so that he could tend to his sister, who was having a difficult pregnancy. I investigated his body first and I made two disturbing discoveries. The first…” she reached into her robe and pulled out a scrap of black cloth embroidered with gold thread, “was this, clutched in his right hand.”

As she held it up Lorlen went completely cold. The embroidery formed part of a symbol that was all too familiar to him: the incal of the High Lord. Vinara’s eyes flickered to his and she frowned with concern and sympathy.

“What was the second discovery?” Balkan asked, his voice low.

Vinara hesitated, then drew in a deep breath. “The reason Lord Jolen’s body still exists is because it was completely drained of energy. The only wound on his body was a shallow cut down one side of his neck. The other bodies bore the same indicators. I was taught to recognize these indicators by my predecessor.” She paused and looked around the circle. “Lord Jolen, his family and their servants, were killed with black magic.”

Gasps and exclamations followed, then a long silence as the implications began to sink in. Lorlen could almost hear them thinking about Akkarin’s strength, and weighing the chances of the Guild defeating him in battle. He saw fear and panic in their faces.

He felt strangely calm and… relieved. For over two years he had been burdened with the secret of Akkarin’s crime. Now, for better or worse, the Guild had discovered that secret for itself. He looked around at the Higher Magicians. Should he admit to having known of Akkarin’s crime?
Not unless I have to,
he thought.

Then what should he do? The Guild was no stronger, and Akkarin—if he was guilty of this crime—was certainly no weaker. He felt a familiar fear chase away his relief.

To protect the Guild, I should do anything I can to prevent a confrontation between it and Akkarin. But if Akkarin did this… No, he may not have. I know other black magicians have been killing Kyralians.

“What do we do?” Telano asked in a small voice.

All turned to regard Balkan. Lorlen felt the tiniest stirring of indignation at that. Wasn’t he the Guild’s leader, in lieu of Akkarin? Then Balkan looked at him expectantly, and he felt a wry regret as the familiar weight of his position settled over him.

“What do you suggest, Administrator? You know him best.”

Lorlen forced himself to sit a little straighter. He had rehearsed what he would tell them in this situation so many times.

“We must be cautious,” he warned. “If Akkarin is the murderer, he will be even stronger now. I suggest we consider this very carefully before confronting him.”

“How strong is he?” Telano asked.

“He easily overcame twenty of our strongest magicians when we tested him for the position of High Lord,” Balkan replied. “With black magic, there is no way to tell how strong a magician is.”

“How long has he been practicing it, I wonder?” Vinara said darkly. She looked at Lorlen. “Have you ever noticed anything odd about Akkarin, Administrator?”

Lorlen did not have to pretend to be amused by the question. “Odd? Akkarin? He’s always been mysterious and secretive, even to me.”

“He could have been practicing for years,” Sarrin muttered. “How strong does that make him?”

“What bothers me is how he came by the knowledge,” Kito added quietly. “Did he learn it during his travels?”

Lorlen sighed as they began discussing all the possibilities he had considered since discovering the truth for himself. He gave them some time, then, just as he was considering interrupting, Balkan spoke up.

“For now, it does not matter how or where he learned black magic. What matters is whether we can defeat him in a confrontation.”

Lorlen nodded. “I have doubts about our chances. I think, perhaps, we should keep this to ourselves—”

“Are you suggesting we ignore this?” Peakin exclaimed. “Leave a black magician at the head of our Guild?”

“No.” Lorlen shook his head. “But we need time to consider how we may remove him safely if, indeed, he is the murderer.”

“We’re not getting any stronger,” Vinara pointed out. “He is.”

“Lorlen is right. Careful planning is essential,” Balkan replied. “I was taught by
my
predecessor the means by which a black magician may be fought. It is not easy, but neither is it impossible.”

Lorlen felt a stirring of interest and hope. If only he had been able to consult with the Warrior before Akkarin had discovered Lorlen knew his secret. Perhaps they had a chance of removing Akkarin after all.

He caught himself, then. Did he really want Akkarin dead?
But what if he
did
kill Jolen and his household? Doesn’t he deserve to be punished for that?

Yes,
but we had better be sure it was him.

“We should also consider that he may not be the killer,” Lorlen said. He looked at Balkan. “We have the account of a witness and a scrap of cloth. Could another magician have dressed as Akkarin? Could he have put that scrap of material in Jolen’s hand?” Something occurred to Lorlen, then. “Let me see it again.”

Vinara handed him the scrap. Lorlen nodded as he examined it. “Look, it has been cut off, not torn. If Jolen had been able to do this, he must have had a blade of some sort. Why didn’t he simply stab his attacker instead? And it is strange, don’t you think, that the killer didn’t notice his sleeve had been cut? A clever murderer would not leave behind such evidence—or wander out into the street carrying the weapon he used.”

“So you think it might have been another Guild magician, trying to convince us that Akkarin is guilty of his crimes?” Vinara asked, frowning. “I suppose it is possible.”

“Or a magician not of the Guild,” Lorlen added. “If Dannyl can find a rogue in Elyne, it is possible that others exist.”

“We’ve seen no other evidence of a rogue magician in Kyralia,” Sarrin protested. “And rogues tend to be untrained and ignorant. How would a rogue learn black magic?”

Lorlen shrugged. “How would any magician learn black magic? In secret, obviously. We might not like the idea, but whether the killer is Akkarin or someone else, he learned black magic somehow.”

The others paused to consider this.

“So perhaps Akkarin isn’t the killer,” Sarrin said. “If he isn’t, he knows we must investigate in the usual fashion, and will cooperate with us.”

“But if he is, he may turn on us,” Peakin added.

“So what should we do?”

Balkan rose and began pacing. “Sarrin is right. If he is innocent, he will cooperate. If he is guilty, however, then I believe we should act now. The number of deaths that have occurred tonight, with no effort to hide the evidence, has the appearance of the preparations of a black magician who is planning for a fight. We must confront him now, or we may leave it too late.”

Lorlen’s heart skipped. “But you said you needed time to plan.”

Balkan smiled grimly. “I said that careful planning makes all the difference. It is part of my duties as Head of Warriors to ensure we are always ready to face such a danger. The key to success, according to my predecessor, is to catch the enemy by surprise, when he is isolated from his allies. My servant has informed me that only three people remain within the High Lord’s Residence at night. Akkarin, his servant, and Sonea.”

“Sonea!” Vinara exclaimed. “What is her role in this?”

“She dislikes him,” Osen said. “I would even say she hates him.”

Lorlen looked at his assistant in surprise.

“How so?” Vinara asked.

Osen shrugged. “An observation I made when she became his favorite. Even now, she doesn’t like to be in his company.”

Vinara looked thoughtful. “I wonder if she knows anything. She could be a valuable witness.”

“And ally,” Balkan added. “So long as he doesn’t kill her for her strength.”

Vinara shuddered. “So how are we going to separate them?”

Balkan smiled. “I have a plan.”

Their guide for the return journey through the underground passages was the same hard-eyed boy. As they followed him, Sonea felt the turmoil of her thoughts settle into a reasonable calm. By the time the guide left them, she was full of new questions.

“She was Ichani, wasn’t she?”

Akkarin glanced at her. “Yes, a weaker one. I can’t imagine how Kariko persuaded her to come here. A bribe, perhaps, or blackmail.”

“Will they send more like her?”

He considered. “Perhaps. I wish I’d had the opportunity to read her mind.”

“Sorry about that.”

His mouth curled up at one side. “Don’t apologize. I prefer that you are alive.”

She smiled. During the journey back he had been distant and thoughtful. Now he seemed anxious to return. She followed him down the passage. They reached the alcove filled with rocks. As Akkarin regarded them, the rocks began to form stairs. Sonea waited until the scrape of stone against stone had ended before posing her next question.

“Why did she have a ring of House Saril and an expensive shawl in the alcove?”

Halfway down the stairs he stopped and turned back to stare at her.

“She did? I…”

His gaze shifted somewhere beyond her. The same thoughtful frown he had worn for the last hour returned. Then his expression darkened.

“What is it?” she asked.

He held up a hand to silence her. As Sonea watched, he drew in a sharp breath and his eyes widened. Then he uttered a curse she had assumed only slum dwellers knew.

“What is it?” she repeated.

“The Higher Magicians are in my residence. In the underground room.”

Her breath caught in her throat. A coldness rushed through her body.

“Why?”

Akkarin’s gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the passage.

“Lorlen…”

Sonea felt her stomach knot. Surely Lorlen hadn’t decided to rally the Guild against Akkarin.

Something in Akkarin’s expression kept all questions locked in her throat. He was thinking hard, she guessed. Making difficult choices. Finally, after a long silence, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Everything changes from here,” he said, looking up at her. “You must do what I say, no matter how difficult you find it.”

His voice was quiet and strained. She nodded and tried to hold back a growing fear.

Akkarin climbed back up the stairs until they stood face to face. “Lord Jolen was murdered tonight, with his family and household, probably by the woman you just killed. That is why she had a shawl and a ring of House Saril—trophies, I suspect. Vinara found a scrap of my robes in Jolen’s hand—no doubt cut from my sleeve by the Ichani during our first confrontation—and she has recognized that the deaths were caused by black magic. A witness saw someone dressed as me leave the house carrying a knife.” He looked away. “I wonder where the Ichani got the robes from, and where she put them…”

Sonea stared at him. “So the Guild thinks you’re the killer.”

“They are considering the possibility, yes. Balkan had rightly decided that, if I am innocent I will cooperate, and if I am guilty I must be confronted without delay. I was considering how I would deal with this, and what you should do and say, when the situation changed just now.”

He paused and sighed heavily. “Balkan wisely planned to isolate me from you and Takan. He sent a messenger with news of Jolen’s death and a summons to meet with the Higher Magicians. When he heard I wasn’t at the residence, he sent for you. He hadn’t discussed with the others what he would do if you weren’t there either, so I assumed he would do so next, and I’d hear of his intentions through Lorlen. But he must have already formed a plan.” Akkarin frowned. “Of course he had.”

Sonea shook her head. “This has been going on while we were on our way back, hasn’t it?”

Akkarin nodded. “I could not say anything, with our guide present.”

“So what did Balkan do?”

“He returned to the residence and searched it.”

Sonea went cold as she thought of the books and objects Balkan would find in the underground room. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. They didn’t break into the underground room at first. But once they found books on black magic in your room, they became more determined to search every corner.”

Sonea’s blood turned to ice. Books on black magic. In her room.

They know.

The future she had envisioned flashed before her eyes. Two more years of training, graduation, choosing a discipline, perhaps persuading the Healers to help the poor, perhaps even convincing the King to stop the Purge.

None of it would happen. Ever.

The Guild knew she had sought knowledge of black magic. The punishment for that crime was expulsion. If they knew she had learned black magic, and used it to kill…

But she had done it, and risked her future, for a good reason. If the Ichani invaded, graduation or stopping the Purge would never happen anyway.

Rothen is going to be very, very upset.