The High Lord (35 page)

“I received a letter from him a little over six weeks ago.” Dannyl opened the folder and took out the letter. He sent it floating to Lorlen’s desk.

The Administrator picked it up and read it aloud.

“
I have been watching for some years the efforts of a small group of Elyne courtiers to learn magic without the Guild’s aid or knowledge. Only recently have they had some success. Now that at least one of them has managed to develop his powers, the Guild is entitled and obliged to deal with them. I have included information on this group with this letter. You will find your relationship with the scholar, Tayend of Tremmelin, helpful in persuading them that you can be trusted. It is possible the rebels will try to use this personal information against you once you have arrested them. I will ensure that it is understood that I asked you to give them this information in order to achieve your goal.’ “

As Dannyl expected, the other magicians exchanged little puzzled looks.

“I assume he meant your working relationship with this scholar?” Sarrin asked.

Dannyl spread his hands. “Yes and no. I guessed he was also referring to rumors about our personal one. Tayend is, as the Elynes say, a lad.” Sarrin’s eyebrows rose, but neither he nor the Higher Magicians looked mystified by the term, so Dannyl continued. “The Elynes have been speculating whether there is more to our association than scholarly interest since he began assisting me with my research.”

“And you allowed the rebels to believe this was true, so they felt they could blackmail you should you prove troublesome?” Sarrin asked.

“Yes.”

“Akkarin was not very specific. He could have meant for you to encourage them to think you and your assistant would face expulsion and execution if you were discovered to be teaching magic.”

Dannyl nodded. “I considered that, of course, and realized that it would not have been enough to persuade the rebels to trust me.” To Dannyl’s relief, Kito nodded.

“So Akkarin was going to tell the Guild that he had asked you to pretend to be involved with your assistant,” Vinara said, “but when you arrived he had been arrested. Administrator Lorlen suggested you claim the deception was your idea.”

“That is right.”

The Healer’s eyebrows rose. “Has this worked?”

Dannyl shrugged. “In general, I believe. What are your impressions?”

She nodded. “Most have accepted your story.”

“And the rest?”

“Are known to be rumor-mongers.”

Dannyl nodded. Thinking back to Lord Garrel’s questions in the Night Room, he wondered if Vinara would include the Warrior among her “rumor-mongers.”

Lorlen leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “So, tell us how you came to meet the rebels.”

Dannyl continued his story, relating how he had arranged a meeting with the Dem Marane, and a visit to the Dem’s home. He described teaching Farand, and how the book Tayend had borrowed had convinced him to arrest the rebels.

“I was considering whether to wait and see if they continued to consult me after Farand had learned Control,” Dannyl told them. “I thought I might learn the names of other rebels. When I saw what was in the book, though, I knew it was too great a risk. Even if the Dem allowed me to keep it, the rebels might have others. If they did disappear after Farand had learned Control, they might have taught themselves black magic and we would have worse than rogue magicians on our hands.” Dannyl paused and grimaced. “I never would have guessed we already had.”

Sarrin shifted in his seat and frowned. “Do you think Akkarin knew of this book?”

“I don’t know,” Dannyl replied. “I don’t know how he knew of the rebels in the first place.”

“Perhaps he had detected Farand’s powers in the same way that he detected Sonea’s before she learned Control,” Vinara suggested.

“From as far away as Elyne?” Sarrin asked.

Vinara’s shoulders lifted. “He has many unique abilities, no doubt gained through the use of black magic. Why not one more?”

Sarrin frowned. “You speak of undertaking research with this scholar, Ambassador. What research is that?”

“Research into ancient magic,” Dannyl replied. He looked around the room. As his eyes met Lorlen’s, the magician smiled faintly.

“I have told them you began it under my instruction,” Lorlen said.

Dannyl nodded. “Yes, though I do not know why.”

“I wanted to retrieve some of the knowledge that Akkarin lost,” Lorlen said. “But Akkarin learned of the research, and made it clear he didn’t approve. I told Lord Dannyl that his help was no longer needed.”

“And you didn’t obey that order?” Sarrin asked Dannyl.

“It wasn’t an order,” Lorlen said. “I said only that the research was no longer needed. I believe Dannyl continued out of his own interest.”

“I did,” Dannyl confirmed. “Later, Akkarin heard that I had continued and called me back to the Guild. He seemed pleased by my progress and encouraged me to continue. Unfortunately, I made little further progress. The only sources I hadn’t explored were in Sachaka, and he had made it clear I must not go there.”

Sarrin leaned back in his chair. “Interesting. He discouraged the research, then encouraged it. Perhaps you had already found something he didn’t want you to find, but you hadn’t understood its significance. Then he would have felt safe allowing you to continue.”

“I have considered that, too,” Dannyl agreed. “It wasn’t until I saw the rebel’s book that I realized the ancient magic I’d been researching was actually Black magic. I don’t think he intended me to know that.”

Sarrin shook his head. “No. If that is so, he would not have wanted you to read that book. So he probably didn’t know that Dem Marane possessed it, and the arrest of the rebels was not an exercise designed to bring it into his possession.” He frowned. “And it may contain information that he does not know. How very interesting.”

Dannyl looked from face to face while the magicians considered this.

“May I ask a question?”

Lorlen smiled. “Of course, Ambassador.”

“Have you discovered anything that proves Akkarin’s story is true?”

The Administrator sobered. “Not yet.” He hesitated. “Despite Akkarin’s warning, we can see no other way to learn the truth but to send spies into Sachaka.”

Dannyl nodded. “I suppose their identity will be a secret, even to members of the Guild.”

“Yes,” Lorlen replied. “But some, like yourself, will be permitted to know, because they will probably guess the real reason for the absence of certain magicians.”

Dannyl straightened. “Really?”

“One of the spies will be your mentor, Lord Rothen.”

The climb into the mountains seemed endless.

The morning sun had revealed steep, heavily forested slopes on either side. Though the road was well maintained, and showed signs of recent repair, all else appeared to be wilderness. If the escort had passed any houses during the night, they had been well hidden in the darkness.

The road followed the curve of the mountainous slopes and climbed through steep ravines. Sonea occasionally caught a glimpse of rocky outcrops above. The air grew steadily colder, until she was forced to keep a barrier of warmth about herself all the time to stop from shivering.

She longed for the end of the journey, yet dreaded it. The constant uphill climb altered her position in the saddle subtly, and a whole new range of muscles had begun to protest. In addition, the coarse material of her trousers had chafed her skin raw and she had to Heal herself every few hours to ease the pain.

“Halt!”

At Balkan’s order, Sonea sighed with relief. They hadn’t stopped since the morning, and then only briefly. She felt her horse draw in a deep breath as it came to a halt, then gust it out again.

Several of the escort dismounted to tend to the horses. Akkarin stared into the distance. Following his gaze, she saw that the land below the mountain was visible through a gap in the trees. Hills rolled outward, gradually smoothing out into a flat plain in the far distance. Narrow rivers and streams glittered in the creases between them. Everything glowed with the warm light of the late afternoon sun. The horizon was a misty edge. Somewhere over it lay Imardin. Her home.

At every step in the journey, she moved farther away from everything she had ever known: her family, her old friends, Cery, Rothen, Dorrien. The names of people she had grown to like in the last few years ran through her mind: Tania, Dannyl, Tya, and Yikmo—and even some of the novices. She might never see any of them again. She hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to most of them. Her throat tightened, and she felt her eyes begin to sting.

Closing her eyes, she forced herself to breathe slowly and normally.
This is not the time or place to start crying. Not now, with Balkan and the other magicians watching
—
and especially not Akkarin.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to turn away from the view.

As she opened her eyes again, she saw Akkarin’s expression shift. For a moment, before the familiar mask settled over his face, she glimpsed a look of intense frustration and bitterness. She looked down, disturbed by what she had seen.

Osen began handing out bread, cold cooked vegetables and chunks of salted meat. Akkarin accepted his share silently, and returned to his brooding. Sonea chewed slowly, determined to force thoughts of the Guild out of her head, and concentrate instead on the days ahead. Where would they find food in Sachaka? The area beyond the pass was wasteland. Perhaps they could buy food. Would Balkan give them money?

Osen returned to her side and offered a mug full of watered wine. She drank it quickly and handed back the cup. He paused, as if he wanted to say something, and she quickly straightened and looked away. She heard a sigh, then footsteps retreating as he walked back to his horse.

“Onward,” Balkan called.

Breaks in the trees became more common as they continued on. In the spaces, great sheets of bare rock were ex-posed. A chill wind whipped the horses’ tails. The sun steadily descended toward the horizon, then the road straightened and passed between two tall, smooth walls of rock. Ahead, stained orange by the setting sun, was an enormous, squat column of stone punctured by rows of tiny square holes.

The Fort.

Sonea stared up at the building as they drew closer. In history lessons, she had learned that the Fort had been built soon after the Sachakan War. It was taller than she had imagined, probably two or three times taller than the main University building. The huge cylinder of rock filled the narrow gap between the two high rock walls. Nothing could pass this way without going through the building.

There was no sign of cracks or mortar, yet the Fort had been made long before Lord Coren had discovered how to meld rock. She shook her head in wonder. Those long-dead builders must have carved the Fort out of the mountain itself.

A pair of large metal doors at the base of the building began to swing open as they approached. Two figures stepped out. One wore the uniform of a captain of the guard, the other wore red Warrior robes. Sonea blinked in surprise, then stared at the magician in disbelief.

“Lord Balkan,” Fergun said as the captain bowed respectfully, “this is Captain Larwen.”

Of course,
she thought.
Fergun was sent away to a distant Fort as punishment for blackmailing me. I hadn’t realized it would be
this
Fort.

As the Captain addressed Lord Balkan, Sonea looked down at her hands and cursed her luck. No doubt Fergun had been looking forward to this moment. He had risked much in his efforts to convince the Guild that they should not admit anyone from outside the Houses.
Now his claims that slum dwellers are not to be trusted have been proven true,
she thought.

But that was wrong. She had only learned and used black magic to save the Guild and Kyralia.

He, too, had believed he was saving the Guild. She felt an uncomfortable sympathy for him. Was there really any difference between her and her former enemy?

Yes,
she thought.
I’m trying to save
all
of Kyralia. He only wanted to prevent lower-class Kyralians learning magic.

In the corner of her eye, she saw that he was staring at her.

Ignore him,
she told herself.
He’s not worth it.

But why should she? He was no better than her. Steeling herself, she lifted her head and returned his stare. His lips curled with contempt and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

You think you’re so superior,
she thought at him,
but consider this. I am stronger than you. Even without the forbidden magic I have learned, I could beat you in the Arena any day, Warrior.

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw stiffened with hatred. She returned his stare coldly. I
have killed a magician who, like you, preyed on the helpless. I would kill again, if it were the only way to protect Kyralia. You do not frighten me, magician. You are nothing, a petty fool, a…

Fergun suddenly turned to regard the Captain, as if the man had said something significant. She waited for him to meet her gaze again, but he didn’t. The formalities ended, and the Captain stepped aside and blew on a whistle. The escort began to move into the Fort.

As they did, the wide corridor beyond filled with the echoing clatter of hooves. The escort continued for several paces, then slowed as it approached a wall of stone blocking half the passage. Passing this in single file, they then stopped before a pair of closed metal doors a hundred paces farther along the corridor. These swung open slowly. They passed through and crossed a wooden section of floor that echoed hollowly under the horses’ hooves, then filed past another stone wall.

Sonea felt cool air on her face. She looked up and saw a pair of open metal doors leading to another walled ravine. Night had already descended on the other side of the Fort. Steep walls were illuminated by two rows of lamps. Beyond them, the road continued into darkness.

As the escort moved into the open, Sonea found that her heart was beating fast. If they had passed through the Fort, then her horse was now walking on Sachakan soil. She looked down.