The Rogue

looked at him and smiled. “As your people have done.”

He stared back at her, wondering what changes she was referring to. The intake of novices from outside the Houses? Or – he felt a stab of alarm – the limited acceptance of black magic?

I didn’t think they knew about that …

“What changes would you choose to make?” he asked, to divert the subject.

She grinned. “Oh, you’ll just have to wait to find out that.” Slapping her knees, she looked from Lorkin to Tyvara. “Well, it is time I got on with my rounds and left you two together.”

As she began to rise, Tyvara slipped her arm under the old woman’s. Lorkin quickly did the same. Once standing, Zarala paused, then took a step forward. At once she began to float away from them. Lorkin looked at the shimmering air under her feet and smiled.

So that’s how she got up here.

“Don’t get too distracted, Tyvara,” she called over her shoulder. Then she disappeared into the tunnel, the faint glow of a globe light flaring into existence illuminating the walls for a moment.

Tyvara sat down. Lorkin followed suit.

“So … did Kalia let you out or did you sneak away?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Things got quieter, so I started pestering her with questions about the cures she was making.”

She smiled. “That’d do it. Why’d you come here?”

“To thank you. Thank you, by the way.”

“For the warning? I thought you said you had no intention of getting into anyone’s bed?”

“That’s correct.”

She regarded him thoughtfully, opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again.

“Unless you told me to,” he added.

Her eyebrows rose and a faint smile curled her lips, but then she looked away, down at the sewer. It was hardly a romantic distraction, so he decided to change the subject.

“So … you’re turning that wheel with magic?”

“That’s right.”

“It must get boring after a while.”

“I find it relaxing.” She looked up and sighed. “Sometimes too relaxing.”

“Shall I stay and keep you entertained?”

She smiled. “If you have the time. I don’t want to keep you away from the Care Room.”

He shook his head. “Kalia said to stay away for a few hours.”

Tyvara made a rude noise. “She’s not the only one who knows the recipes for cures. It would be stupid to have only one person know that sort of thing.”

“It would.” Lorkin shrugged. “But I suppose if I’m not willing to share Guild healing secrets then why should she share hers? Besides, it does give me some free time to come and see you. Even if I’m not supposed to.”

She smiled. “If we’re discovered, we claim you did all the talking, and I never said a word.”

“We can. Or that if you said anything, I never heard it. Are you sure anybody will understand what we mean, rather than assume I was just being a typical male?”

She laughed. “I can’t promise that, but I’m sure we’ll get our real meaning across eventually.”

“We might get snow tonight,” Rothen said.

Sonea glanced at him, then grimaced. “First snow of the year. When I see it, I can’t help remember the Purge. Even after all these years.”

He nodded. “I do, too.”

“You know, there are adults who never experienced it.”

“Who will never appreciate how horrible it was – and that’s a good thing.”

“Yes. You want your children to take it for granted that they have a better life than you, but at the same time you hope they don’t take it for granted in case they let bad things return out of ignorance.”

“Such worries turn us into boring old men and women,” Rothen said, then sighed.

Sonea narrowed her eyes at him. “Who is calling who ‘old’?”

He chuckled and said nothing. She smiled and looked back at the University building. How long had it been since she’d noticed the elaborate facade that had once awed her? I’m taking wonderful things for granted, too.

“Here they come,” Rothen murmured.

Turning back, Sonea saw that the Guild Gates were opening. A carriage waited behind them. Soon the entrance was clear and the horses stirred into motion, hauling the vehicle through and along the road to the University steps.

The driver drew the horses to a stop. The carriage swayed and settled, then the door opened and a familiar robed figure leaned out and grinned at them.

“Nice of you to wait up for me,” Dorrien said. He clambered down, then turned and reached out, taking a gloved hand that emerged from the doorway. A sleeve appeared and a woman’s head. She peered out, blinking first at Sonea, then at Rothen.

A look of recognition came into Alina’s eyes as she saw her husband’s father, and she smiled faintly. She looked at Sonea again and a line between her eyebrows deepened. Her gaze dropped to Sonea’s robes and she schooled her expression into a serious one.

Dorrien helped her to the ground, then offered the same assistance to his two daughters. The eldest, Tylia, emerged first. She favoured her mother in looks, Sonea noted. Yilara, the younger, ignored her father’s offered hand and jumped down the steps nimbly. And that one favours Dorrien, Sonea mused.

Introductions and welcomes followed. Sonea was amused to find that Alina said nothing in response to her greeting, then busied herself checking that her daughters were presentable. Once satisfied, she took Dorrien’s arm and looked at Sonea with an expression that was almost defiant.

I wonder what I’m doing wrong, Sonea thought. Or if there’s something about me that she finds off-putting. She resisted the urge to laugh bitterly at her thoughts. Well, there are these black robes and the magic they represent.

Or it could be that Dorrien had told Alina that he and Sonea had nearly formed a romance of sorts. That they had once kissed.

Surely he hasn’t. He might have told her about our very brief connection, but nothing more than that. He’s smart enough to know you don’t torment the woman you love with the details of the encounters you had before her. She remembered her own jealousy, when Akkarin had told her of the slave girl he had loved. Despite knowing that the girl was long dead, she had not been able to help feeling a twinge of resentment.

“Black Magician Sonea!” a new voice called.

She turned toward it, and saw a messenger hurrying in her direction.

“Yes?” she replied.

“A message … arrived … Northside hospice,” the man said, between deep breaths. “I came straight … on foot, no delays.” Reaching her, he handed her a folded piece of paper.

“Thank you,” she said. She unfolded the paper. “Meet the Traitor at the Pachi Tree in One Hour”. Cery certainly had a fondness for capitalising words, she mused. “And could you arrange a carriage for me, as quickly as possible.”

The messenger bowed and hurried away.

“What is it?” Dorrien asked.

She looked up at him, his family and Rothen. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to join you for dinner.”

Dorrien took a few steps toward her, forcing Alina to let go of his arm. The woman scowled.

“Is this to do with the search? Can I help?”

Sonea smiled crookedly. “There’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to help, Dorrien. Tonight I’m just helping out a friend. You go have something to eat and settle in.”