The High Lord (40 page)

“The source of your draft,” Raven announced. He turned to regard Lorlen, and a look of disappointment crossed his face. “But I see you already knew about it.” His hand moved again and the panel slid back into place.

“Everyone here knows of the passageways in the walls of the University,” Lorlen said. “Not everybody knows where the entrances are, however. Using them is forbidden, though I suspect the former High Lord often ignored that rule.”

Rothen resisted a smile. Despite Lorlen’s unconcerned manner, there was a crease between his eyebrows and he kept glancing at the painting. Rothen supposed the Administrator was wondering if Akkarin had ever spied on him.

Raven approached the Administrator’s desk. “Why is using them forbidden?”

“They are unsafe, in places. If novices observed magicians using them, they would be tempted to do the same— before they are capable of protecting themselves against cave-ins.”

Raven smiled. “That is your official reason, of course. In reality, you don’t want magicians or novices spying on each other.”

Lorlen shrugged. “I’m sure that possibility was considered by my predecessor when he invoked that rule.”

“You might want to revoke it if your former High Lord’s predictions come true.” Raven looked at Solend, then Yikmo. As Rothen was given the same calculating look, he wondered what the spy made of him. The man’s expression betrayed nothing of his thoughts. “They may prove to be valuable escape routes,” Raven added. He turned to face Lorlen. “I have examined all the books, reports and maps you sent to me. Confirming whether these Ichani exist should not be difficult, particularly if they do live as the former High Lord described. You don’t need to send three magicians into Sachaka.”

“How many do you suggest we send?” Lorlen asked.

“None,” Raven replied. “You should send non-magicians. If the Ichani do exist and capture one of your magicians, they will learn too much about you.”

“No more than what they will learn if they capture Akkarin,” Lorlen pointed out.

“It sounds as if he knows enough about Sachaka to look after himself,” Raven replied. “Whereas these magicians do not.”

“That is why we have employed you to educate them,” Lorlen answered calmly. “And there is one advantage to sending magicians. They can communicate what they discover in an instant.”

“And if they do, they will reveal themselves.”

“They have been instructed to communicate only as a last resort.”

Raven nodded slowly. “Then I would make one strong recommendation.”

“Yes?”

He glanced at Rothen. “Send only one of these, and choose two others. Your spies should not know who else you’ve sent. If one is captured, he will reveal the identity of the others.”

Lorlen nodded slowly. “Which would you choose, then?”

Raven turned to Yikmo. “You are a Warrior, my lord. If they capture you and read your mind they will learn too much of the Guild’s fighting skills.” He turned to Solend. “Forgive me for pointing this out, my lord, but you are old. No merchant would take a man of your age with him on an arduous journey through the wastes.” He looked at Rothen and frowned. “You are Lord Rothen, am I right?”

Rothen nodded.

“If your former novice is captured and her mind read, the Ichani might recognize you. She doesn’t know you are intending to enter Sachaka, however, and it probably makes little difference that she knows you so long as you don’t encounter the Ichani who captured her.” He paused, then nodded. “You have a face that inspires trust. You would be my choice.”

As Raven turned to regard Lorlen, Rothen did too. The Administrator considered the three magicians and the spy, then nodded.

“I will take your advice.” He looked at Solend and Yikmo. “Thank you for volunteering. I will speak to you both later. For now, we had best ensure only Rothen hears what Raven has to say.”

The two magicians rose. Rothen searched their faces for signs of annoyance, but read nothing more than disappointment. He watched them walk to the door and leave, then turned back to find Raven watching him closely.

“So,” Raven began, “what would you prefer? Lose the gray in your hair, or go completely white?”

As Sonea paused to catch her breath, she looked around. The sky was streaked with wispy ribbons of orange clouds, and the air was growing steadily colder. She guessed Akkarin would decide to rest soon.

For three nights since escaping the Ichani, she had followed Akkarin along the mountain range. They began at dusk every day, walked until it grew too dark to see, then rested until the moon rose. Travelling as quickly as they dared, they stopped only when the moon had disappeared behind the peaks.

When they had stopped at the darkest hours of the second morning, she had told Akkarin to take the magical strength she had regained. He had hesitated before accepting the power. Afterward, she had told him she would watch for the first half of the day. When he had begun to argue, she had told him bluntly that she didn’t trust him to wake her up when her turn came. The Healers had lectured novices often on the dangers of using magic to stay awake for too long, and Akkarin was looking more worn and haggard each day.

At first, when he didn’t lie down to sleep, she had assumed this was his way of refusing. She had waited until midday before giving in to weariness. The next morning, when she took the first watch again, he had fallen asleep leaning against a boulder, but woke again with a start long before midday and remained awake.

The third morning, she discovered the real reason he was resisting sleep.

They had both put their backs to a sloped wall warmed by the sun. She noted a little later that he had fallen into a doze, and felt some satisfaction and relief that he was finally sleeping. Soon after, however, he had begun to move his head slowly from side to side, his eyes roving under his eyelids. His face had tightened into an expression of pain and fear that sent a shiver down her spine. Then he woke with a start, stared at the stony landscape before him, and shuddered.

A nightmare, she guessed. She had wished she could comfort him somehow, but read from his expression that the last thing he wanted was sympathy.

Besides,
she told herself,
he doesn’t smell so good now.
The scent of sweat, which had once been pleasant, was now the stale stink of an unwashed body. And she was sure she smelled no better. They had found the occasional small puddle of water to drink from, but nothing large enough to wash in. She thought wistfully of hot baths and clean robes, and of fruit and vegetables—and raka.

A squawk brought her attention back to the present, and she felt her heart skip. Akkarin had stopped walking and was looking up at several birds circling above. As she watched, a small shape dropped from the sky.

He caught the bird easily, then another. By the time she caught up with him, he had removed their feathers and had begun the less pleasant task of gutting them. He worked quickly and efficiently, obviously having once been well practiced at the task. It seemed strange to see him using magic for such a menial task, but then she had never seen a magician hesitate to use it to open and close doors and move objects they were too lazy to collect.

Every time he caught and roasted an animal, or she purified stagnant water, she wondered how they could have survived in this place without magic. They could not have travelled as quickly for a start. An ordinary man or woman would have needed to detour around the deep crevasses they had encountered, and scale the sheer cliffs in their path. Though Akkarin avoided using his magic as much as possible, without levitation they couldn’t have kept ahead of the Ichani woman tracking them.

As Akkarin began roasting the birds in a globe of heat, Sonea realized she could hear a faint pattering nearby. Moving away, she walked along the rock wall toward the sound. Seeing a glistening patch of stone, she drew in a sharp breath. A small trickle of water was running down a crack in the rock, surrounded by several birds.

She hurried to the wall, sending the birds fluttering away, and cupped her hands under the dribbling water. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned and smiled at Akkarin.

“It’s clean.”

He held up the two birds he’d caught, now reduced to a small, steaming handful of brown meat.

“They’re ready.”

She nodded. “Just give me a moment.”

Sonea hunted around until she had found a suitable rock, then began to work. Remembering her lessons on molding stone, she shaped the rock into a large bowl, then set it below the trickle of water to fill. Akkarin made no comment on her use of magic.

They sat down to eat. The small mountain birds did not yield much meat, but they were tasty. She sucked on the thin rib bones and tried to ignore the nagging hunger that remained. Akkarin rose and moved away. The sky had rapidly darkened to a deep blue-black and she could barely see him. She heard a faint splash and a swallow, and guessed he was drinking from the bowl of water.

“Tonight I will attempt to spy on our pursuers,” he said.

Sonea looked toward his shadowy figure, her pulse quickening.

“Do you think they’re still following us?”

“I don’t know. Come here.”

She rose and approached him.

“Look down and to the right a little. Can you see it?”

The slope of the mountain dropped steeply down from their position. Where it began to split into ridges and ravines, Sonea could see a small point of light. Something was moving about in the light. Something on four legs…

A small limek, she realized. Another movement brought her attention to a figure.

“They’re much farther away now,” she observed.

“Yes,” Akkarin agreed. “I believe they’ve lost our trail. We’re safe, for the time being.”

Sonea stiffened as another shadow moved near the distant light.

“There are two of them now.”

“It appears the one who nearly caught you has met with the woman.”

“Why have they made the light?” she wondered aloud. “They can be seen from all around. Do you think they’re trying to trick us into coming closer?”

He paused. “I doubt it. Most likely they do not know we are so high above them. They have stopped within a cluster of boulders. If we were lower on the slopes, we would not have seen the light.”

“It is going to be a big risk, approaching them just for the sake of showing Lorlen the truth.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But that is not the only reason to do it. I may also learn how the Ichani plan to enter Kyralia. The North Pass is blocked by the Fort, but the South Pass is open. If they enter from the south, the Guild won’t have any warning of their approach.”

“The South Pass?” Sonea frowned. “Rothen’s son lives near there.” That put Dorrien in considerable danger, she realized.

“Near, but not on the road or in the Pass. The Ichani would appear to be a small band of foreign travellers. Even if they were noticed, Dorrien may not hear about it from the local people for a day or so.”

“Unless Lorlen instructs him to keep an eye on the road, and question travellers.”

Akkarin did not reply. He remained silent, watching the distant Ichani. The sky brightened beyond the horizon, heralding the rise of the moon. When the first sliver of light appeared, he spoke again.

“We will have to approach from downwind, or the limek will smell us.”

Sonea glanced back at the bowl of water. It was full to the brim and overflowing.

“Then, if we have the time, there is something we ought to do first,” she said.

He watched as she walked over to the bowl. She warmed the water with a little magic, then glanced up at him. “Turn around—and no peeking.”

A faint smile curled his lips. He turned his back and crossed his arms. Keeping him in sight, Sonea pulled off her clothes a piece at a time, washing them and herself, then drying off with magic. She had to wait for the bowl to refill a few times as her clothes soaked up the water. Finally, she emptied the bowl over her head. She scrubbed at her scalp and sighed with relief.

Straightening, she shook her hair out of her eyes.

“Your turn.”

Akkarin turned, then approached the bowl. Moving away, Sonea sat down with her back to him. A nagging curiosity stole over her as she waited. She pushed it aside and concentrated on drying her hair with magic while combing out the knots with her fingers.

“That’s better,” he said eventually.

Glancing back, she froze as she saw that his shirt was lying on the ground beside him. Seeing his bare chest, she felt her face flush and turned away.

Don’t be ridiculous,
she told herself.
You’ve seen plenty of bare chests before.
The workmen in the markets wore little more than short trousers in the summer heat. That had never embarrassed her before.

No,
a voice in the back of her mind answered,
but you’d have felt differently about those workmen if you’d fancied any of them.

She sighed. She did not want to feel like this. It made the situation more difficult than it needed to be. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. For once, she wanted to be moving, so that all her attention was focused on traversing the rough terrain of the mountains.

She heard footsteps behind her. Looking up, she saw with relief that he was fully dressed again.

“Come along then,” Akkarin said.

She rose and followed as he started down the mountain slope. The journey did seem to clear her mind. They descended quickly, taking a direct route to the Ichani and their light. After more than an hour had passed, Akkarin slowed and stopped. His eyes were fixed on a distant point.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Lorlen has put on the ring,” he said after a long pause.

“He isn’t wearing it all the time, then?”

“No. Until now, it has remained a secret. Sarrin was reading the books and would have recognized it for what it was. Lorlen usually slips it on a few times each evening.” He started moving again. “I wish I had some glass,” he murmured. “I would make you a ring.”

Sonea nodded, though she was heartily glad he hadn’t. A blood ring would have revealed too much of her thoughts. Until she managed to rid herself of this foolish attraction to him, she did not want Akkarin knowing what was going on in her mind.