The Rogue

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Under the same orders – but don’t worry,” he said, standing up and moving away. “I’ll stay over there and try not to listen.”

Tyvara watched, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he moved away to the food preparation area, before looking down at Lorkin.

He smiled. It was too easy to smile at her. He was at risk of grinning like an idiot. Her long dark hair was clean and the dark hollows under her eyes were gone. He’d found her alluring before; now she was even more beautiful than imagination had painted his memory of her.

I wasn’t like this when we were travelling, he thought. Maybe I was too tired …

“I guess this will have to do,” she said quietly, uncrossing her arms.

“What do you want to talk about?” he managed to ask.

She sighed, then sat down and fixed him with a direct stare that set his heart racing. “What are you up to Lorkin?”

He felt a vague disappointment. What did I expect? That she’d invite me to her rooms for a night of … He quickly pushed the thought aside.

“If I was up to something, why would I tell you?” he countered.

Her eyes flashed with anger. She glared at him, then stood up and started toward the door. His heart leapt in alarm. He couldn’t let her leave so soon!

“Is that all you’re going to ask me?” he called after her.

“Yes,” she replied, without turning.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”

She slowed, then stopped and looked back at him. He beckoned. Sighing, she walked back to the seat and dropped into it, her arms crossed again.

“What then?” she asked.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in months. What has Riva’s family got you doing?”

She regarded him thoughtfully, then uncrossed her arms. “I’m fine. I’d rather be out there doing some good, of course, but …” She shrugged. “Riva’s family have me working the sewer tunnels.

He grimaced. “That can’t be pleasant, or interesting.”

“They think it’s as nasty a task as they could come up with, but I don’t mind it. This city needs its waste removed as much as it needs defending, and being a slave can involve much more unpleasant duties than that. But it is boring. I may end up hating it for that, alone.”

“You should come by and visit. I’ll try to entertain you, though I can’t promise it won’t be anything more than the silly mistakes a foreigner makes in an unfamiliar place.”

She smiled. “Has it been difficult?”

He spread his hands. “At times, but everyone has been friendly, and while I never wanted to be a Healer, at least I’m being useful.”

Her smile disappeared and she shook her head. “I never thought they’d put you in Kalia’s hands, knowing that she wanted you dead.”

“They know she’ll keep an eye on me better than anyone else.”

“And now you’ve made a fool of her,” she pointed out.

“Poor Kalia,” he said, without a trace of sympathy.

“She’ll make your life hard for this.”

“She does anyway.” Lorkin raised his eyes to hers. “You didn’t expect me to try to befriend her, did you?”

“I thought you smart enough to avoid giving her excuses to stir people up against you.”

He shook his head. “Lying low and keeping out of trouble will not get me that.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “One foolish Kyralian boy cannot change the Traitors, Lorkin.”

“Probably not, if they don’t want to,” he agreed. “But it seems to me the Traitors do want to. It seems to me some major changes are definitely part of their future plans. I am no foolish boy, Tyvara.”

Her eyebrows rose, then she stood up. “I have to go.” She slowly turned and walked away. He watched her hungrily, hoping the sight of her would imprint in his memory clearly.

“Come visit some time,” he called after her. She looked back and smiled, but said nothing. Then she was gone.

Moments later, the men began returning to the room. Lorkin sighed, then looked around to find Evar making his way across to the table. The young magician sat down, his eyes bright.

“Oh, what wouldn’t I do to get under the rug with that one,” he said quietly.

Lorkin resisted the urge to glare at his friend. “You’re not the only one,” he replied, hoping the young man would take the hint.

“No. Most men here would do anything for a night with her,” Evar agreed, not picking up Lorkin’s meaning – or pretending not to. “But she’s picky. Doesn’t want to get attached. She’s not ready.”

“Not ready for what?”

“Pairing. She doesn’t want to stop doing the dangerous work. Spying. Assassination.”

“Does having a man prevent that? I can’t imagine men could prevent the women doing anything here.”

Evar shrugged. “No, but when the women are away for long stretches, and might be killed, they know it’s hard on a man. It’s certainly hard for their children.” His eyebrows rose. “Actually, Tyvara’s caution is probably because of her mother, who died on a mission when she was young. Her father was devastated, and Tyvara had to look after him. She was … oh. I think it’s time.”

Lorkin followed the young magician’s gaze to the room entrance. A young female magician was standing there, beckoning to him. He exchanged a sympathetic look with Evar.

“I think you’re right,” he said. “Good luck.”

“You, too.”

They stood up and headed for the doorway, Lorkin reached it first. The woman looked him up and down and smirked. Lorkin figured she was considering his ability to cause her trouble, but couldn’t quite shake off the impression she was considering his potential for much more recreational physical activity.

“The Table is assembled and they want to talk to you both. You’re to go first.” She nodded at Lorkin. “Follow me.”

They walked in silence. The people they passed barely glanced at them, adding to the impression that nobody was taking his tour of the stone-makers’ caves all that seriously. Finally, they reached the entrance to the Speaker’s Chamber and stopped. Seven women sat around the curved stone table at the low end, but the tiers of seats fanning out from it for an audience were empty. Lorkin noted that the gem-encrusted chair for the Traitors’ queen was empty, as he expected. The old monarch only joined in the more important ceremonies, and he doubted she’d be at all interested in attending this one.

Director Riaya, a thin, tired-looking woman who guided proceedings, saw him and beckoned. He left Evar and the escort and walked toward the Speakers. Stopping before the table, he turned to face Riaya.

“Lorkin,” Riaya said. “You’ve been summoned before us to explain your presence in the stone-makers’ cave three nights ago. What purpose did you have there?”

“To view the stones in their stages of development,” he replied.

“That is all?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Why did you want to view the stones?” one of the Speakers asked.

He turned to regard her. Yvali was her name, and she tended to side with Kalia and the Traitor faction that had wanted him killed for his father’s misdeeds. But she did not always support them, he’d noted.

“Curiosity,” he replied. “I’d been told so much about them, their beauty and the skill involved in creating