The Rogue

hovered over her. Beside them stood Savara.

“Lorkin.” Savara smiled. “I thought she’d never let you leave,” she said.

He grimaced. “I think she was hoping …” He caught himself and looked at the parents. Hoping that the girl would die before I had the chance to Heal her. I can’t say that in front of them. He walked over to the makeshift bed, then looked up at the couple. “I will try to Heal her with magic, but I can’t promise that I will be able to save her. Magical Healing does not always succeed, though I’ve never known it to do any harm. I will only try if you give me permission to do so.”

“We do,” the father said, his wife nodding.

“And I will stand as witness,” Savara added softly.

Lorkin looked at her. Tyvara must have told Savara of his plans. Perhaps Savara had convinced the parents to remove their child from the Care Room so that Kalia could not prevent or intervene in her Healing. Perhaps she, too, had guessed that Kalia would forbid him to visit Velyla alone, so had arranged for the girl to be brought here instead.

Savara smiled, and there was a glint of both smugness and approval in her eyes.

Turning back to the child, Lorkin put a hand on her forehead and sent his senses within her body. What he saw sent a chill down his spine. The sickness was everywhere, attacking everything. Her lungs were full of it, and her heart was weak.

He began by simply sending her body energy. Often this was enough – the body automatically used it to heal itself. This sickness that had invaded her systems was too virulent for her defences. If he had looked inside the Traitors who were not badly affected by the chill fever, he knew he would have seen their bodies fighting back. But Velyla’s body was losing that fight.

It could be that her body’s defences were slow and weak, and that all it needed was a boost of energy in order to last long enough to win the battle. Or it could be that it would never win it, no matter how much extra time he gave her. Kalia will say that I prolonged her pain, if I don’t succeed. But I have to try.

Next he forced the liquid out of her lungs – which was not pleasant for anyone but would allow the girl to breathe properly for a time – and Healed as much of the damage as he could. This last step drained much of his strength, but he did not use a great deal of his power working in the Care Room anyway, and a night’s sleep should restore him.

“Keep using Kalia’s cures,” he told Velyla’s parents. “They will help to keep her lungs clear and soothe her throat.” He looked down to see the girl’s eyelids flutter, and quickly added, “I’ve done all that can be done with magic, which is to give her body another chance to beat chill fever. I can do it again if she worsens, but if her body won’t fight it …” He left the sentence hanging and shook his head.

The parents nodded, their expressions grim. “Thank you,” the father said. Interesting that he has been the one to speak, when the woman is considered the head of the family, Lorkin mused.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Savara standing beside him. “You’d best get some rest. I suspect that takes more magic than it appears to.”

He shrugged, though she was right. She looked to the woman who had brought him into the room, who now opened the door a little to check the corridor outside, then turned back and nodded.

“You go first,” Savara murmured. “We’ll leave separately, to arouse less suspicion if we’re seen.”

Slipping out into the corridor, he started toward the men’s room. It seemed as if Savara meant to keep his healing of the girl secret. If Velyla recovered, would it seem suspicious? The girl was still ill, however, and would not be surprising anybody by romping around in perfect health tomorrow. She would take some days yet to regain some energy – assuming she did at all. Most people would not question it, but would Kalia, who knew how ill she had been?

I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

As Achati’s slaves took away the last of the meal, Dannyl went to take another sip of wine, then thought better of it. It was a particularly strong vintage, and the food had been extra spicy. His head was spinning in an almost unpleasant way.

It was never wise, as a magician, to get too drunk. All magicians maintained a constant level of control over their power, and that could slip a little under the effects of alcohol. Generally it was more embarrassing than dangerous, though there had been more than a few magicians over the years who had burned down their house by accident after indulging a little too much.

Some drugs – better known as poisons – could remove all control, which could be spectacularly fatal. He had read of a few incidents in early Kyralian history, mostly from before the discovery of Healing. Fortunately the drugs had side-effects that alerted victims to the danger, giving them time to remove the poison from their body if they knew how to.

Dannyl looked at Achati, who was watching him thoughtfully. At once he felt a tingle of anxiety, but also a small quickening of his pulse. He remembered the day Achati had revealed his interest in them being more than fellow magicians and diplomats. More than friends.

Dannyl had been flattered, but also cautious. Seeing him hesitate, Achati had suggested Dannyl consider the idea for a while.

How long is a while?

Dannyl had to admit, he had been considering it. He liked Achati a lot. He was attracted to Achati in an entirely different way than he had been to Tayend. Achati was intelligent and interesting to talk to. Not that Tayend wasn’t, but he was also inclined to be flippant, foolish and occasionally thoughtless. Achati was never any of these things.

But something was making Dannyl hesitate, and he had a fairly good idea what it was: Achati was a powerful man, both magically and politically. Dannyl found this attractive, until he remembered that Achati was a Sachakan and a black magician, and then he could not help remembering the Ichani Invasion, and how Kyralia had come so close to being conquered by mere outcasts of this powerful society.

He is no Ichani, Dannyl reminded himself. Sachaka is not full of ambitious, murderous black magicians intent on conquest. Achati is the opposite of the Ichani – civilised and intent on peace between our countries.

Even so, it’s never wise to mix politics and pleasure … unless your pleasure is politics.

If the entanglements and tragic romances of the courtiers of the Allied Lands were anything to go by, things could get really messy, and ultimately bad for at least one of the party. But this was not like those inter-racial romances involving secret weddings or scandalous affairs. It was nothing that would bring his loyalty to Kyralia into question. He could not imagine Achati having unreasonable expectations and making unrealistic promises …

“What are you thinking about?” Achati asked.

Dannyl looked at his companion and shrugged. “Nothing.”

The Sachakan smiled. “It is a strange habit of Kyralians, claiming to have a void of thoughts when they don’t want to discuss them.”

“Or if their thoughts are too mixed and disjointed – most likely from the wine – to explain – which is probably also because of the wine,” Dannyl added.

Achati chuckled. “Yes, I can see how that might be.” He looked at Dannyl and frowned. “There is something I have to tell you, and I’m not sure if you will be displeased or not.”

Dannyl felt a small pang of disappointment. He had almost convinced himself to accept Achati’s proposal, but now that Achati was being more serious, Dannyl’s doubts were creeping back in.

How would such a connection, if it were discovered, affect our standing in Sachakan society? Then it occurred to him that they were about to leave Arvice. Out of sight and out of minds. This trip could be the perfect opportunity …

“I’ve agreed to take another person on our research trip,” Achati said. “He was quite persuasive, and I can’t fault his reasoning. I’d already promised that if things got a bit too intense here I’d help him escape the Ashakis’ interest.”

Dannyl felt his heart sink. Then his disappointment at Achati’s words was followed by a rising