The Ambassador's Mission

“I do.”

“Then I declare this Hearing over.”

Disbelief and then jubilation filled Lorkin after Administrator Osen announced the Higher Magicians’ decision and he felt a sudden desire to let out a whoop. But it would not have been appropriate in the dignified surrounds of the Guildhall, and not kind to his mother.

As always, she showed little of her thoughts or feelings. How she managed that he could not guess. Long practice? He hoped that one day he would inherit the ability. Still, he saw small hints that others did not. The slight sag of her shoulders. The hesitation before she answered Osen’s final question. As she walked over to him, he saw how wide her pupils were. But wide with anger or fear?

“Don’t worry about Lorkin,” Dannyl said quietly to her. “I will make sure nothing happens to him. I promise you that.”

She looked at him and her eyes narrowed. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Dannyl actually winced. “I know.”

“And you,” she said, her eyes snapping to Lorkin. “You had better be careful. If some Sachakan murders you in your sleep I’ll hunt you down and make you admit you were wrong.” The smallest twitch of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth.

“I’ll remember that,” he said. “No getting murdered.”

The smile faded and she gazed at him in silence for a moment. Then she abruptly turned to Dannyl.

“When will you be leaving?” she asked.

“As soon as possible, I’m afraid,” he replied apologetically. “The Guild would rather someone had gone to Sachaka to learn from Lord Maron before taking on his duties, but Maron had to return to Kyralia in a hurry. Apparently if we leave the Guild House empty of an Ambassador too long they’ll find another use for it, and we’ll have to go live out in the country.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“How long is too long?”

“We don’t know. They’ve never told us.”

Sonea snorted quietly. “So they’re keeping you hanging on a string. Glad it’s you going, not me. Not that I could if I wanted to.” She turned to look at the Higher Magicians, who had nearly all descended from their seats and were making their way out of the room. Osen looked back at them.

“We’d better leave,” Dannyl said.

“Yes,” Sonea agreed. She frowned, her expression becoming distracted. “I have something rather urgent I need to attend to.” She glanced at them both, and managed a thin smile. “Don’t go leaving without saying goodbye, will you?”

Without waiting for a reply, she strode away toward the door. Dannyl and Lorkin followed, though at a slower pace. Lorkin watched as his mother disappeared through the Guildhall doorway.

“I have no intention of dying in Sachaka,” Lorkin said. “In fact, I’ll be keeping as low a profile as possible. After all, if the slightest hint of foolishness gets back here, she’ll come fetch me back.”

“Actually, she can’t,” Dannyl replied.

Lorkin turned to frown at the tall magician.

“Remember, she’s a black magician. She’s forbidden to leave the city. If she breaks that condition, she’ll be exiled from the Allied Lands.”

A small but sharp stab of fear went through Lorkin. So she can’t come and save me if I get in trouble. Well, I had better not get into trouble then. Or rather, I had better be ready to get myself out of it again. He fixed a bright smile on his face and turned to Dannyl.

“But I don’t need Mother. If anything happens, I know you’ll save me.”

Dannyl’s eyebrows rose. “Nice to know you have such confidence in me.”

“Oh, nothing of the sort,” Lorkin replied, grinning. “I just know you’re more scared of her than of the Sachakans.”

The tall magician shook his head and sighed. “What was I thinking? Of all the assistants I could have wound up with, why did I have to choose the one with the scary mother and troublemaking in his bloodlines? I am doomed.”

Chapter 7 A Journey Begins

As the carriage pulled up outside the front of the University, Sonea and Lorkin emerged from the building, followed by Rothen. A cluster of young male magicians lurking in the shelter of the entry hall waved and called out, and Lorkin turned to wave in reply. His wave turned into a beckoning gesture, and a servant hurried out, carrying a single, small chest.

Ah, good. The young man packs light, Dannyl thought.

Early autumn rain spattered against an invisible shield over their heads. As mother and son reached the carriage, Dannyl heard the sound of rain on the roof cease, and guessed that whichever of the magicians was holding the shield had expanded it to include the vehicle. He opened the door and climbed down to greet them.

“Ambassador Dannyl,” Sonea said, smiling politely up at him. “I hope your chests are watertight. This rain doesn’t look like it will ease off for some time.”

Dannyl glanced up at the two boxes strapped to the back of the carriage, on top of which the servant and driver were lashing Lorkin’s chest. “They’re new and untested, but the maker came well recommended.” He turned back to regard her. “I have no original documents in there. All copies. Wrapped in oilskin.”

She nodded. “Wise.” She turned to Lorkin, who was looking a little pale. “If you need anything, you know what to do.”

He flashed a quick smile in reply. “I’m sure I’ll be able to buy anything I’ve forgotten. The Sachakans might have a few barbaric customs, but it sounds like they don’t lack for luxuries or practicalities.”

They regarded each other silently for a long, awkward moment.

“Well, off you go then.” She waved to the carriage like she was shooing a child away, spoiling the impression of a young man venturing independently into the world. Dannyl suspected she would have liked to envelop her son in a hug, but knew it would embarrass him in front of his friends. He exchanged an amused and knowing look with Rothen. They watched Lorkin climb inside the carriage, clutching a leather bag to his chest.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, Dannyl,” Sonea said quietly.

The urge to smile disappeared. He turned back, ready to reassure her again, but there was a glint of amusement in her gaze. He straightened his back.

“And I mean to uphold it,” he said. “Though if he takes after his mother, I can’t be held completely responsible if he gets it into his head to do something foolish.”

From Rothen he heard a quiet snort of amusement. Sonea’s eyebrows rose and he expected her to protest, but instead she shrugged. “Well, don’t complain to me if he causes you trouble. You didn’t have to choose him as your assistant.”

Dannyl feigned worry. “Is he really that bad? I can still change my mind about taking him, can’t I?”

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him closely. “Don’t tempt me, Dannyl.” Then she drew in a deep breath and sighed. “No, he isn’t that bad. And I do wish you luck, Dannyl. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Rothen chuckled. “Goodbye again, old friend,” he said. Just as Dannyl had once farewelled Rothen many years before, on this spot, before heading off to Elyne and his first ambassadorial role. Where I met Tayend...

“Farewell, even older friend,” Dannyl retorted. Rothen laughed, the wrinkles on his face deepening. He looks so elderly these days, Dannyl thought. But then, so do I. He felt a pang of regret that he had not visited his old mentor and