The Novice

Rothen nodded. “Part of the role of Ambassador, I expect. Along with secret meetings with the High Lord.” He smiled for the first time since they had met that day. “But I am keeping you from your unpacking. Why don’t you have dinner with Dorrien and me tonight? He’s returning to his village tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

Rothen moved to the door again. At a flexing of Dannyl’s will, the door swung open. Rothen stopped, pushed it closed again, and sighed. He turned to stare into Dannyl’s eyes.

“Be careful, Dannyl,” he said. “Be very careful.”

Dannyl stared back. “I will,” he assured his friend.

Rothen nodded. Opening the door again, he stepped out into the corridor. Dannyl watched his friend and mentor walk away.

And shook his head as he realized he had no idea whether his friend was warning him about his affairs with Tayend, or with Akkarin.

Epilogue

The full moon bathed the path to the High Lord’s Residence in blue light. Walking toward the building, Sonea smiled.

Four weeks had passed since the challenge, and not once had she encountered Regin and his allies in the University passages after class. No sniggers had reached her ears in the corridors and not one of her projects had been ruined.

Today she had been paired with Hal in Medicines and, after an awkward start, they had started arguing about the right treatment for nailworm. He had told her about a rare plant his father, a village Healer in Lan, used to treat the disease. When she told him that the dwells used tugor mash, left over from distillation of bol, he had laughed. They started exchanging superstitions and unlikely cures from their homes, and when the lesson ended she realized they had been talking for an hour.

Reaching the door to the Residence, Sonea touched the handle. Expecting the door to swing open immediately, she stepped forward and banged her knee.

Surprised and annoyed, she touched the handle again, but the door remained closed. Was she to be locked out tonight? Grasping the handle, she turned it and was relieved when the door swung inward.

Closing the door behind her, she turned toward the stairs, then froze as she heard a crash from somewhere beyond the other staircase. A muffled shout reached her ears, then the floor vibrated beneath her feet.

Something was going on below her, in the underground room. Something magical.

Her whole body went cold. Frozen, she considered what to do. Her first thought was to escape to her room, but she realized that if there was a magical battle happening beneath her she would be no safer in her bedroom.

She should leave. Get as far away as possible.

But curiosity kept her still. I want to know what is going on, she thought. And if someone has come to confront Akkarin, they might need my help.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to the door of the stairs and opened it a crack. The staircase beyond was dark, so the door to the room below must be closed. Slowly, every muscle tensed ready for a fast retreat, she crept down the stairs. Reaching the door, she searched for a keyhole or some way to see into the underground room, but found nothing. A man’s voice yelled something. A stranger’s voice. It took her a moment to realize she hadn’t understood him because he was speaking in another language.

The reply was spoken harshly, also in another language. Sonea went cold as she recognized Akkarin’s voice. Then a high wail of desperation sent her heart racing and she backed up the stairs, suddenly convinced she ought to be anywhere but there.

The door flew open.

Takan looked up at her and stopped. She didn’t see his expression, however. Her attention had been caught by the scene beyond.

Akkarin stood over a man dressed in simple clothing. His hand was wrapped about the man’s throat, and blood trickled through his fingers. In his other hand was a jewelled knife - a knife that was horribly familiar. As she watched, the stranger’s eyes glazed over and he slumped to the floor.

Then Takan cleared his throat, and Akkarin’s head snapped up.

Their gaze locked - like in her nightmares in which she relived the night when she had witnessed him in this room, only he saw her watching and she couldn’t move... then woke up with her heart racing.

But this time she wouldn’t wake up. This was real.

“Sonea.” He spoke her name with unconcealed annoyance. “Come here.”

She shook her head, backed away, and felt the sting of magic as her shoulder encountered a barrier. Takan sighed and retreated into the room. Feeling the barrier press against her back, Sonea realized it was going to push her down the stairs. She pushed aside panic with an effort, straightened her shoulders and forced her legs to carry her into his domain.

As she stepped through the doorway the door closed behind her with a solid finality. She looked down at the dead man and shuddered at his empty, staring eyes. Akkarin followed her gaze.

“This man is - was - an assassin. He was sent to kill me.”

So he says. She looked at Takan.

“It is true,” the servant said. He gestured. “Do you think the m— High Lord would mess up his own rooms?”

Looking around, she realized that the walls were scorched and one of the bookcases was a shambles of broken wood and scattered books. She had sensed and heard enough from the guestroom to suspect there had been some kind of magical battle going on below her.

So the dead man must have been a magician. She looked at him again. He was not Kyralian, or of any of the races belonging to the Allied Lands. He looked like... she turned to stare at Takan. The same broad face and gold- brown skin...

“Yes,” Akkarin said. “He and Takan are of the same people. Sachakan.”

That explained how the man could have magic, but not be of the Guild. So there were still magicians in Sachaka... but if this man was an assassin, why did he - or his employer - want Akkarin dead?

Why indeed? she mused.

“Why did you kill him?” she asked. “Why not hand him over to the Guild?”

Akkarin’s smile was humorless. “Because, as you’ve no doubt guessed, he and his kind know much about me that I’d rather the Guild did not.”

“So you killed him. With... with...”

“With what the Guild calls black magic. Yes.” He took a step toward her, then another, his eyes level and unwavering. “I have never killed anyone who did not mean me harm, Sonea.”

She looked away. Was that supposed to reassure her, when he knew she would expose his secret if she could? That would certainly do him harm.

“He would be satisfied, indeed, if he knew the harm he has done by coming here and causing you to see what you have seen,” Akkarin said softly. “You must be wondering who these people are, who want me dead, and what their reasons are. I can tell you only this: the Sachakans still hate the Guild, but they also fear us. From time to time they send one of these, to test me. Do you really think it unreasonable of me to defend myself?”

She looked up at him, wondering why he was telling her this. Did he really expect her to believe anything he said? Surely, if the Sachakans were a danger, the rest of the Guild would know. Not just the High Lord. No, he practiced evil magic to strengthen himself and this was only a lie to ensure her silence.

His gaze moved over her face, then he nodded to himself.

“It does not matter if you believe me or not, Sonea.” He narrowed his eyes at the door, which swung open with a faint creak. “Only remember that, if you speak a word of this, you will bring about the destruction of everything you hold dear.”

She sidestepped to the door. “I know,” she said bitterly. “You don’t have to remind me.”