When I saw what you were doing... it was a shock. I didn’t know what to think.”
“What exactly did you see?”
With difficulty that he did not need to fake, Lorlen had described what Sonea had seen. As he spoke, he had looked for a hint of shame in the High Lord’s expression, but had seen only a flicker of annoyance.
“Does anyone else know about this?”
“No,” Lorlen answered quickly, hoping to avoid betraying Sonea and Rothen, but Akkarin’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re lying to me, my friend.”
“I’m not.”
Akkarin had then sighed. Lorlen remembered that sigh vividly.
“That is unfortunate.”
Lorlen had then risen to face his old friend, determined to convince Akkarin that his secret was safe. “Akkarin, you must believe me. I have told no one about this. It would cause too much strife in the Guild. I... I don’t know why you are playing with this... this forbidden magic. I can only trust that you have good reason. Do you think you would be standing here if I didn’t?”
“So you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then show me the truth. I must know who you are protecting, Lorlen, and just how much you have learned.”
Akkarin had then reached toward Lorlen’s head. With a shock, Lorlen realized Akkarin intended to read his mind. He grabbed Akkarin’s hands and tossed them away, appalled that his friend might demand such a thing. “You have no right to—”
And then the last of Lorlen’s trust in his friend had died as Akkarin’s fingers flexed in a familiar gesture. A force pushed Lorlen backward. He fell into the chair and felt magic pressing him down.
“Don’t do this, Akkarin!”
But Akkarin’s mouth was set in a thin line. “Sorry, my old friend, but I must know.”
Then Akkarin’s fingers had touched Lorlen’s temples.
Shivering at the memory, Lorlen opened his eyes and stared at the walls of his bedroom. As he clenched his fists he felt a warm band of metal press into the skin around one finger. Lifting his hand, he felt his stomach twist as a red gem glinted in the dim light.
Everything had been revealed: what Sonea had witnessed, the truth-read, Rothen’s involvement, and all that Dannyl had learned or discovered. No hint of Akkarin’s thoughts or emotions had filtered through to him. Only afterward had Lorlen seen hints of the High Lord’s state of mind as Akkarin paced his guestroom, brooding in silence for an hour, perhaps longer. What he had discovered obviously concerned him greatly, but his demeanor had not lost any of its confidence.
Finally, the restraining magic holding Lorlen in the chair had withdrawn. Akkarin picked up the knife from the table. Given more time to think, Lorlen would have feared for his life, but instead he stared in disbelief as Akkarin ran the blade over his own palm.
With blood pooling in one hand, Akkarin took Lorlen’s empty glass and smashed it against the table. He picked up one of the fragments and tossed it in the air.
It had halted in front of Akkarin’s eyes, and begun spinning, the sharp edges glowing red as it melted. When it had cooled again, it formed a faceted sphere. Akkarin lifted his bleeding hand and curled his fingers around the sphere. When he opened his hand again, the cut had disappeared and a bright red gem lay on his palm.
Next, Akkarin had willed a silver spoon to his hand from the drinks cabinet. It had twisted about, melting and folding until it had formed a thick circle. Akkarin took the gem between two fingers and placed it in the thickest part of the band, which closed about it like a flower.
Then he had held the ring out to Lorlen.
“Put it on.”
Lorlen had considered refusing, but he knew that Akkarin was willing to use force to get his way, and he could imagine a few unpleasant ways that a ring might be permanently attached. He wanted the option of removing it one day, so he took the ring and reluctantly slipped it onto his middle finger.
“I will be able to see and hear everything around you,” Akkarin had told him. “And we will be able to communicate without anyone hearing.”
While Lorlen felt hurt and betrayed by Akkarin’s actions, it was Sonea’s fate that tormented him most. Had Akkarin been watching when, looking out of his window a few minutes ago, Lorlen had seen Sonea leave the University? She had stopped abruptly, the pain in her eyes so clear as she remembered that she could no longer return to Rothen’s rooms.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted Akkarin to have seen her. He wasn’t sure if his “friend” could feel remorse or guilt. For all Lorlen knew, Akkarin might have enjoyed seeing her misery.
But, despite everything, he still wanted to believe it wasn’t so.
21
The Tombs of White Tears
As Sonea walked away from the University she imagined she could feel the enormous building shrinking behind her. Her back prickled with lingering warmth and her face stung with cold. Ahead a dark shape loomed larger as she approached.
The High Lord’s Residence. Akkarin’s house.
She had stretched her evening meal out as long as possible then, unable to bring herself to leave the University, she had gone to the Novices’ Library. Now, with the library closed and the rest of the University empty and silent, she had no alternative but to return to her new room.
Her heart was beating too fast by the time she reached the door. She stopped, swallowed hard and reached out to the door handle. As she touched it, the door swung inward.
The room inside was lit by a single globe light. A figure sat in one of the luxurious chairs, holding a book in long, pale fingers. He looked up and Sonea felt her stomach clench.
“Come in, Sonea.”
She forced her legs to move. Once inside, the door swung shut behind her, closing with a soft, but decisive click.
“Did you do well in the tests today?”
She opened her mouth to answer but, not trusting her voice, decided to nod instead.
“That is good. Have you eaten?”
She nodded again.
“Then you should get some rest in preparation for tomorrow. Go.”
Relieved, she bowed and hurried through the door to her left. She created a globe of light and sent it before her as she climbed the curving stairs.
In the light of magic, the staircase reminded her of the one that led down to the underground room where she had seen him practicing his black magic. Those stairs lay behind the door on the other side of the guestroom, she guessed. On this side, the stairs led only upward.
At the top she reached a long corridor. Behind the first door was her bedroom. She had seen nothing else of the High Lord’s Residence.
As she turned the door handle, she heard footsteps coming from the other end of the corridor. Looking up, she saw a wall illuminated by a slowly brightening light, and the top of the other staircase.
