The High Lord (38 page)

Finding a relatively even area, she shifted a few of the rocks, filled in a few holes between them with smaller stones, then lay down. It was not very comfortable. She smiled wryly, remembering how she had once slept on the floor of Rothen’s spare room so long ago, because she had been unused to soft beds.

Akkarin sat down near the entrance. As his globe light blinked out again, she wondered how she would ever sleep when she knew an Ichani was searching for her above.

But exhaustion blunted the rock’s sharp edges and her fear, and her thoughts soon drifted away from all the concerns of the moment.

From the outside, only the towers of the Palace were visible over the high round wall that surrounded it. As the Guild carriage turned onto the circular road ringing the wall, Lorlen looked up and felt a twinge of anxiety. It had been many years since he had entered the Palace. Matters between the King and the Guild were always dealt with by the High Lord. Though two magicians—the King’s Advisors— attended the monarch on a daily basis, their role was to protect and counsel, not to receive or attend to orders regarding the Guild. Now, with Akkarin gone, the responsibilities of the High Lord fell to the Administrator.

As if I don’t already have enough to do,
Lorlen thought. The King had asked for all Higher Magicians to attend him today, however. Lorlen looked at the other occupants of the carriage.

While Lady Vinara looked calm, Lord Sarrin wore a frown of worry. Expatriate Administrator Kito was tapping the fingers of one hand against the other. Lorlen was unsure if this indicated nervousness or impatience. Not for the first time, he wished that Kito’s duties didn’t require him to be absent from the Guild so often. If he had known Kito better, he might have been able to read the man’s mood from this little mannerism.

The carriage slowed, then turned toward the Palace entrance. The two enormous blackened iron gates swung inward, each guided by a pair of guards. Several more guards, standing on either side of the entrance, bowed as Lorlen’s carriage entered a large enclosed courtyard.

Statues of previous kings stood proudly around the courtyard. The carriages drew to a halt in front of the grand Palace doors. A guard stepped forward and bowed as Lorlen climbed out of the carriage.

Lorlen glanced at the second Guild carriage pulling up behind the first, then stepped forward to meet the greeter at the Palace doors. The task of the greeters was to welcome every visitor to the Palace with appropriate formality and later compose a report. Lorlen had been fascinated to learn, as a child, that the greeters had developed their own shortened form of writing to speed the process.

The man bowed gracefully.

“Administrator Lorlen. An honor to meet you.” His alert eyes moved from magician to magician as he greeted each. “Welcome to the Palace.”

“Thank you,” Lorlen replied. “We have been summoned by the King.”

“So I have been informed.” The man was holding a small board in one hand. He drew a square of paper out of a slot in the side and made several quick marks on it with an ink stick. A boy standing nearby dashed forward, bowed, and took the slip of paper.

“Your guide,” the greeter said. “He will take you to King Merin now.”

The boy dashed to one of the huge Palace doors and hauled it open, then stepped aside. Lorlen led the other magicians into the Palace entrance hall.

The hall was based on the one in the University and was filled with fragile-looking spiral staircases. There were many more of them, however, and they were decorated with gold and illuminated by several hanging lamps. An elaborate clockwork timepiece clicked and whirred in the center of the room. They followed their young guide up a staircase to the second level.

A complicated journey followed. Their guide led them through large doorways and along wide corridors and halls. After a long climb up a narrow staircase, they arrived at an ordinary-sized door, blocked by two guards. The boy asked them to wait, then slipped past the guards. After a short pause, he reappeared and announced that the King would see them.

As Lorlen stepped into the room beyond, his attention was immediately drawn to the tall, narrow windows. They gave a view of the entire city and beyond. He realized they were in one of the Palace towers. As he looked to the north, he almost expected to be able to see a dark line of mountains, but of course, the border was far beyond the horizon.

The King was sitting in a large, comfortable chair on the far side of the room. The King’s Advisors stood on either side, their expressions watchful and serious. Lord Mirken was the older of the pair. Lord Rolden was closer to the King’s age, and, Lorlen knew, was considered as much a friend as protector.

“Your Majesty,” Lorlen said. He dropped to one knee, and heard the rustle of robes behind him as the other Higher Magicians followed suit.

“Administrator Lorlen,” the King replied, “and Higher Magicians of the Guild. Be at ease.”

Lorlen and the others rose.

“I wish to discuss the claims of the former High Lord with you and your colleagues,” the King continued. His gaze shifted from one magician to another, then he frowned. “Where is Lord Balkan?”

“The Head of Warriors is at the Northern Fort, Your Majesty,” Lorlen explained, “with the magicians who escorted Akkarin to the border.”

“When will he return?”

“He intends to remain in case Akkarin attempts to return that way, or his story proves to be true and these Ichani he spoke of try to enter Kyralia.”

The King’s frown deepened. “I need him here, where I can consult with him.” He hesitated. “My Advisors tell me you have given orders that all mental communication cease. Why is that?”

“Last night I heard the mental voice of a magician unknown to me.” Lorlen felt a chill as he remembered. “He appeared to have been listening in to a conversation I was having with my assistant.”

The King’s eyes narrowed. “What did this stranger say?”

“I thanked Lord Osen for informing me that Akkarin and Sonea had entered Sachaka. The stranger repeated the thanks.”

“That is all this stranger said?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know if this stranger is Ichani, however.” The King tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “But if the Ichani do exist, and have been listening to your conversations, they may have learned a great deal in the last few days.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“And if I order Lord Balkan home, they will hear of it. Will his Warriors be capable of defending the Fort against attack if he leaves them and returns?”

“I do not know. I could ask him, but if his answer is no and he leaves, anyone listening will know the Fort is vulnerable.”

The King nodded. “I understand. Speak to him. If he feels he cannot leave, then he must stay.”

Lorlen sent out a mental call to Balkan. The response was immediate.

—
Lorlen
?

—
If you return to Imardin, will your men be able to defend the Fort?”

—
Yes. I have taught Lord Makin how to coordinate them against a black magician.

—
Good. Come back immediately. The King wants your advice.

—
I’ll leave in an hour.

Lorlen nodded and looked at the King. “He is confident they can defend the Fort. He should arrive in two or three days.”

The King nodded, satisfied. “Now, tell me about your investigations.”

Lorlen clasped his hands behind his back. “In the last few days we have located a few merchants who visited Sachaka in the past, and one does remember the term ‘Ichani.’ He said it meant ‘bandit’ or ‘robber.’ Merchants and their possessions have been known to disappear in the wastes. It was assumed they had lost their way. That is all we know. We are sending three magicians into Sachaka to seek more information. They will leave in a few days.”

“And what defensive preparations have you made in case Akkarin’s story is true?”

Lorlen turned to regard his fellow magicians. “If what he says is true, and these Ichani are hundreds of times stronger than a single Guild magician, I don’t know if there is anything we can do. There are over three hundred of us, if we include magicians living in other lands. Akkarin estimated there were ten to twenty Ichani. Even if there were only ten, we would have to increase our numbers more than threefold to meet a force that strong. Though there is magical potential in the underclasses, I doubt we would find seven hundred new magicians—and we certainly couldn’t train them quickly enough.”

The King had grown a little pale. “Is there no other way?”

Lorlen hesitated. “There is one way, but it has its own dangers.”

The King gestured for Lorlen to continue.

Lorlen turned to look at Lord Sarrin. “The Head of Alchemists has been studying Akkarin’s books. What he has learned has been both disturbing and enlightening.”

“How so, Lord Sarrin?”

The old magician stepped forward. “They reveal that black magic was not forbidden by the Guild until five centuries ago. Before then, it was in common use and was known as ‘higher magic’ After it was banned, records were rewritten or destroyed to eliminate reference to it. The books Akkarin possessed were buried under the University as a precaution against Kyralia facing a powerful enemy again.”

“So your predecessors intended for the Guild to relearn black magic if it was under threat?”

“It appears so.”

The King considered that. Lorlen was pleased to see wariness and fear in the monarch’s expression. No ruler would like the idea of giving magicians potentially limitless power.

“How long would it take?”

Sarrin spread his hands. “I don’t know. More than a day. I believe Sonea learned it in a week, but with guidance from Akkarin. Learning from books may prove more difficult.” He paused. “I would not recommend attempting such an extreme measure unless there was no other way.”

“Why not?” the King asked, though he seemed unsurprised.

“We could save ourselves only to end up fighting the corrupting effects of black magic on our own people.”

The King nodded. “Yet black magic does not appear to have corrupted Akkarin. If he had intended to overpower the Guild, and myself, he could have done it at any time in the last eight years.”

“That is true,” Lorlen agreed. “Akkarin was my closest friend, from the day we met as novices, and I never found him to be dishonorable. Ambitious, yes, but not immoral or lacking in compassion.” He shook his head. “The Guild is large, however, and I cannot guarantee that all magicians would be as restrained if they had access to limitless power.”

The King nodded. “Then perhaps only a few might learn it, those who were judged trustworthy… but only if the situation proves desperate, as you say. Proof is the key, here. You must discover whether Akkarin’s story is true or untrue.” He looked at Lorlen. “Is there anything else that I should know?”

Lorlen glanced at the others, then shook his head. “I wish we had more significant or reassuring news, Your Majesty, but we do not.”

“Then the rest of you may go. Stay with me a while, Administrator. I would question you further about Akkarin and his novice.”

Lorlen stepped aside and nodded to the others. They knelt briefly, then left the room. At a gesture from the King, the Advisors quietly moved away to chairs beside the door. He rose and crossed to the northern window.

Lorlen followed at a respectful distance. The monarch leaned on the sill and sighed.

“I have never found Akkarin to be anything but honorable,” he murmured. “For the first time I find myself hoping that I was wrong about him, and have been proven a fool.”

“As do I, Your Majesty,” Lorlen replied. “If he was telling the truth, we have just sent our best ally into the hands of our enemy.”

The King nodded. “Yet it had to be done. I do hope that he survives, Administrator, and not just because we may need him. I, too, valued him as a good friend.”

Pain was the first sensation Sonea became aware of when she woke. It was at its worst in her legs and back, but her shoulders and arms also felt bruised and sore. Concentrating on it, she realized it was the ache of muscles unused to exercise, and the cramping of others that had tried to brace themselves against the hard surface she was lying on.

Drawing on her power, she Healed away the discomfort. As the ache receded, she grew aware of a nagging hunger. She wondered when she had last eaten, and memories of the previous night flooded in.

Last thing I remember, I was in a cave with Akkarin.

She opened her eyes slightly. Two walls of stone stretched up above her, drawing closer until they met. The cave. Keeping her eyes mostly closed, she looked toward the entrance. Akkarin was sitting a few steps away. As she watched, he looked at her and his mouth curled into that wry, half-smile she knew so well.

He’s smiling at me.

She didn’t know if he could see she was awake, and she didn’t want him to stop smiling, so she stayed still. He continued to regard her, then looked away, sighed and the smile was replaced with a frown of worry.

She closed her eyes again. She ought to get up, but she did not want to move. Once she did, the day would begin and there would be more walking and climbing and running away from Ichani. And Akkarin would turn cold again.

She opened her eyes fully and regarded him again. The skin of his face seemed tight, and looked bruised under his eyes. The shadow of stubble accentuated the angles of his jaw and cheekbones. He looked thin and tired. Had he slept at all? Or had he sat up all night watching her?

His eyes snapped to hers and his expression became disapproving.

“So. You’re awake at last.” He climbed to his feet. “Get up. We must get as much distance as possible between us and the Pass.”

Good morning to you, too,
Sonea thought. She rolled and pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly dusk.”

She had slept all day. She considered the shadows under his eyes again.

“Did you sleep?”

“I kept watch.”

“We should watch in turns.”