The Rogue

for.”

“I see.”

Cery resumed his pacing. “I was hoping to have you and Regin lined up for this, so that if one of you couldn’t make it the other could step in—”

“Wait a few days and I’ll have a replacement for Regin.”

“Really?” Cery stopped. “Who is it?”

“Dorrien. Rothen’s son.”

“I thought he lived in the country.”

“He did, but he’s decided to move to the city to get his daughter settled here before she starts at the University.”

Cery chuckled. “I bet Rothen doesn’t know whether to be pleased or horrified.”

She smiled and nodded. “I wish we didn’t have to bring him into this. I wish you didn’t need to involve Anyi.”

“It’s our children’s purpose in life to make us worry,” Cery replied wryly. He looked up. “Have you heard from Lorkin?”

Sonea felt a stab of pain, but it was more a dull ache than the sharp terror she’d felt when he’d first disappeared. “No. I guess I should be glad he isn’t being dragged into this.”

He nodded. “Perhaps I should have sent Anyi off to Sachaka.” His expression suddenly became distant and thoughtful. He shook his head and looked at Sonea. “Anything else?”

“No. You?”

“Nothing. I’ll send a message to the hospice when I know what Anyi is planning. Could you stay here a while, just in case you were followed?”

“Sure. I did lose the t … whatever you call them now.”

“Of course you did,” he said in a consolatory tone.

“You doubt my ability to lose a tag?” She crossed her arms.

“Not at all.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He feigned innocence. Behind him, Gol slid a panel in the wall open.

“Coming?” he asked.

Cery smiled and turned away. Shaking her head, Sonea watched as they slipped through into darkness and the panel slid shut again. Then she sat down and waited until they’d put some distance between themselves and the shop before she headed back to the hospice.

Stomach full, and with a mouth burning pleasantly from the spices he’d consumed, Dannyl sipped his wine contentedly. It was good to get away from the Guild House. These days the only Sachakan home Dannyl saw the inside of was Achati’s. It followed the typical format, but the interior walls were painted a softer colour than the traditional stark white. The carpets and decorations were simple and elegant. He preferred the soft light of lamps to magical globe lights.

Dannyl had seen no glimpse of Achati’s source slave and lover, Varn, since their journey in search of Lorkin. Achati had not mentioned his interest in Dannyl beyond friendship since then either – at least not directly. Dannyl was not sure if the Ashaki had given up on such a liaison happening, content to enjoy their friendship, or whether he was giving Dannyl time to contemplate the idea.

I must admit, I hope he hasn’t given up, but at the same time, the fact that Achati is such a powerful man is as sobering as it is interesting. Not to forget the fact that he is Sachakan and I’m Kyralian, and some still feel we are enemies. Having a Sachakan friend would be seen to be beneficial, encouraging respect and understanding between our people. Having a Sachakan lover would raise suspicions of divided loyalties.

“So the treasure that was stolen from the palace was a magic-storing object,” Achati said, his expression thoughtful.

Dannyl looked up and nodded. “The king told me something had been taken long ago. I thought you’d be interested to know what its purpose was.”

“Yes.” Achati’s eyes wrinkled with amusement. “We did not remember what it was, only that it was stolen. If only we’d remembered that it was an object used to control us – an object powerful enough to create the wasteland – we might not have nursed such resentment. Or resented it as much,” he added. “Since your people did use it to create the wasteland.”

“A resentment that is deserved.” Dannyl shuddered as he thought of the lifeless land he’d travelled across to get to Arvice. “I’ve often wondered how the Kyralians maintained control here. As far as I can tell, there weren’t as many Kyralian magicians here as there were Sachakan magicians. Perhaps the threat of the storestone is the answer.”

“It wasn’t long after the object was stolen that the Kyralians relinquished control of my country,” Achati told him.

Dannyl nodded. “We always assumed it was because the wasteland was considered protection and deterrent enough.”

Achati grimaced. “It certainly weakened Sachaka. Our most fertile lands were gone, and we were already a country bursting with more people than we could feed, despite losing so many Ashaki in the war.” He sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. “The king will be interested in what you said earlier: that there was initial success in reclaiming the wastes. Restoring the land is a hope of his.”

“It would be a great achievement.”

“Yes.” Achati frowned. “It is a peculiar thing that Kyralians have no memory of this storestone.”

“I can only assume that all reference to it was lost when Imardin was destroyed, which I now believe happened centuries later.” Dannyl sighed. “All good discoveries raise more questions. Why did Narvelan steal it? Why did he use it? I doubt we’ll ever know, since he and those that might have confronted him did not live to tell the tale.”

Achati nodded. “I’d like to know where the storestone came from. Did it originate in Kyralia? Was it made or natural?” He shook his head. “I’m sure you would like to know as much for Kyralia’s sake as for your book. All would face as great a threat of disaster as Sachaka suffered, if such a weapon fell into the hands of an enemy.”

“Thankfully, storestones don’t appear to be very common. They may not even exist any more.”

The two men were quiet for a while, thinking about this, then the Ashaki smiled again. “I must admit, I am finding myself drawn into this research of yours. I’ve been considering how else I might help you.”

“The book merchants at the market are going to inform me when they buy more old records,” Dannyl told him. Achati had done enough already by persuading various Ashaki to open their libraries to the Guild Ambassador, and Dannyl didn’t want his new friend and ally losing respect for continuing to promote the cause of an unpopular foreigner.

“You can’t rely on them,” Achati told him. “They’ll sell to the highest buyer. And there is no need for you to wait until an estate’s owner is desperate enough to sell their old records. There is no need to buy them at all. We can go to them.”

Dannyl blinked at the man in surprise. “Go to them? Visit them?”

“Yes. As you know, estates are obliged to provide food and beds for travelling Ashaki, and as the king’s friend and representative I warrant extra attention and favours. If we show an interest in their old records there is a good chance they’ll show them to us. That way there is no need for you to buy anything, which may be seen by some as benefiting from the downfall of victims of the wasteland your people created.”

“But … what of your duties as the king’s representative and adviser? What of mine as Guild Ambassador?”

Achati chuckled. “The king has more than one friend and adviser, and you are hardly being swamped with work. If any matter does arise, I’m sure Ambassador Tayend and your assistant can take care of it.” Then he sobered. “I want you to find out as much as possible about the storestone. If one should still exist, or was created, it could be terrible for all countries.”

Dannyl caught his breath. Achati was right: if a storestone existed or could be made it would be a great danger to both Sachaka and the Allied Lands. What would the Traitors do if they got hold of one? They would rise up against the Ashaki. Once they had conquered Sachaka, would they be content to remain there? Would they seek