The Rogue

left and follow where it leads.

Surely the same instructions would apply now.

He looked back at the hut, mostly hidden by the fog. He’d buried the sledge under the snow, as instructed. Someone would take it back to Sanctuary soon enough, he guessed. He’d also left his pack and changed into the sort of clothes that hunters usually wore in winter – roughly made trousers and a tunic covered by a hooded cape of hides stitched together. His boots were made of skins with the fur on the inside. There were simple gloves – mere pockets of hide – as well. Hunters were another group of Sachakans that didn’t quite fit into the simple division of slaves and Ashaki. They were free men, but they weren’t magicians. They lived on estates in exchange for the pelts, meat and other products they produced, but they weren’t considered slaves. Since they spent much of the year in remote places, it would be hard for a master to maintain control of them. They also had an understanding of sorts with the Traitors, who left them alone so long as they kept away from certain areas in the mountains. Some actively helped the Traitors by allowing use of their huts – though they may not have had much choice about that. If they wanted to be free to hunt in the mountains, they had to stay on the right side of the magicians that lived there.

A hunter’s outfit was the perfect disguise for Lorkin. If any Ashaki saw him, they’d ignore him, and it wasn’t too strange for a hunter to be out and alone. Not that anybody was going to see him today.

Turning his back on the mountains, he started walking. The fog was so thick he had to constantly watch the ground for obstacles. After stumbling into depressions and the edge of the river, hidden under the snow, he broke a branch off one of the scraggly trees and used it to probe the drifts in front of him as he walked. It slowed his progress, so he was not expecting to find the road for some time. After the relief of a flat stretch of ground was followed by a sudden drop, however, he stopped and looked around. Exploring left and right, he discovered that the flat area continued in both directions, and was of a consistent width. It had to be the road.

Tyvara said to turn left. If I’m wrong and this isn’t the road, the flat area will soon end, or I’ll encounter the side of the valley.

So he started along the direction she’d said. After several hundred paces he relaxed a little. The surface continued straight and, aside from the occasional rut or puddle, remained level. With no obstructions to beware of, he was able to look around and search the fog for some sign of the Traitors waiting to meet him.

After a while he began to worry that he would pass them, unnoticed. Though the fog had a deadening effect on sound, his footsteps crunching through the snow and finding the occasional puddle seemed loud to him, and he had to resist trying to be quieter.

At least I should hear a carriage coming soon enough to get off the road and hide. It won’t matter either if there’s nothing to hide behind. All I have to do is crouch down and stay still, and if anyone sees me they’ll probably think I am a rock.

A voice called out behind him, and Lorkin froze. He could not make out what it had said, but it had definitely been calling to someone.

To me?

He considered what Tyvara had said about the likeliness of encountering Ashaki. “You shouldn’t encounter any Ashaki. They don’t tend to travel at this time of year.” He doubted anyone would willingly venture out in this fog, and he’d heard no sound of carriage wheels or hoof beats. The only people likely to be out in such weather were the people looking for him. The voice had come from behind him. Maybe they’d seen his tracks and realised he’d passed them.

The voice called out again, this time further away. He started forward. Within a few steps he saw something move. He made out a figure coming toward him. A man, walking confidently. Wearing trousers and a cropped jacket.

Ashaki.

He stopped, but it was too late. The man had seen him. Lorkin’s heart began to race. Should he throw himself to the ground and hope the man thought he was a slave? But a hunter wouldn’t do that.

“You’re not Chatiko,” the man said, stopping. He came closer, bending forward as he stared at Lorkin. “I know you. I’ve seen you before.” His eyes widened with realisation and surprise. “You’re that Kyralian magician! The one who went missing!”

There was no point pretending otherwise. Tyvara’s words rose in his memory.

“If you do, tell them who you are and request to be taken back to the Guild House. They’ll be politically obliged to help you.”

“I am Lord Lorkin of the Magicians’ Guild of Kyralia,” he said. “I formally request that you return me to the Guild House in Arvice.”

The man smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, it’s your lucky day. We’re heading that way ourselves. We were going to wait until the weather cleared, but Master Vokiro insisted we leave at first light. I am Master Akami.”

Lorkin searched for something to say. Two of them are Masters. They aren’t as highly ranked as Ashaki. That could be to my advantage. He managed a smile. “Thank you, Master Akami.”

The Sachakan gave Lorkin a familiar amused look at his Kyralian manners, then gestured back down the road. “The carriage is this way. Master Chatiko stopped to relieve himself.” Lorkin fell into step beside the man. “He was taking so long I went looking for him. See how lucky you are? We could have driven by and not seen you. Ah! He’s back.”

Another man stood by the carriage. As he saw Lorkin, his gaze moved from Lorkin’s head to his feet, an expression of puzzlement and distaste on his face.

“Look what I found,” Master Akami declared. “A lost Kyralian magician! And I bet he has some tales to tell. He’ll keep us entertained all the way back to the city!”

No sooner had the trunks been hauled onto the deck of the Inava than the anchor was pulled up and sails unfurled. Dannyl, Tayend and Achati were ushered to the one place on deck where they were out of the way of the captain and his slave crew.

Achati looked at Dannyl.

“So, are you content with what you learned here, Ambassador?”

Dannyl nodded. “Yes, though I would like to return and record more of these Duna legends. I asked to hear the ones about magic, but there would be plenty more that aren’t. I guess that’s a book for someone else to write.”

Achati nodded. “Perhaps your assistant might write such a book. She seems very interested in the tribes.”

Dannyl felt a small pang of guilt for leaving Merria behind. But someone had to remain at the Guild House. “Yes, she is.”

“And what about you, Ambassador Tayend?” Achati said, turning to the Elyne.

Tayend waved a hand in a vague gesture that might have meant many things. He looked a little pale, Dannyl noted.

“Have you taken the seasickness cure?” Achati asked.

“Not yet,” Tayend admitted. “I did not want to miss our last sight of …” He gulped and waved a hand at the valley. “I’ll take it once we leave the bay.”

Achati frowned with concern. “There will be some delay before it takes effect, and it won’t have a chance to if you can’t keep it down.”

“Ashaki Achati,” the captain called.

They all turned to see the man pointing out over the northern arm of the bay, his eyes bright and a grim smile on his face. Black clouds darkened the sky, and the horizon was invisible behind streaks of rain.

Achati chuckled. “A storm is coming.” He took a step toward the captain. “I will give you my assistance.”

The man’s eyebrows lowered. “You have experience?”

Achati grinned. “Plenty.”

The man nodded and smiled again. As Achati turned away, his eyes shone with excitement. Dannyl’s skin