The High Lord

bit thin, but,' he glanced up at Senfel, 'magicians' battles don't take long, from what I'm told.'

'So how are we going to lure an Ichani away from the main group?' Zill asked.

'I hear Limek has a good tailor,' Cery said, giving the bushy-haired Thief a meaningful look.

'Fancy yourself in robes?' the man said in a deep voice.

'Oh, they'd never believe a magician could be so short,' Faren scoffed.

'Hai!' Cery protested. He pointed at Sonea. 'There are short magicians.'

Faren nodded. 'I suppose you might be convincing in novices' robes.'

Sonea felt something brush against her arm, and looked down to find Akkarin's fingers lightly touching her skin.

- These people are braver than I thought, he sent. They appear to understand how dangerous and powerful the Ichani are, yet they are still willing to fight them.

Sonea smiled and sent him a fleeting image of dwells throwing stones at magicians during the Purge, then of the sewer system that had enabled Cery to bring them into the city.

- Why wouldn't they? They've been fighting and outwitting magicians for years.

32 A Gift

Something was tickling Rothen's nostril. He snorted, then opened his eyes.

He was lying face down on dried grass. As he rolled over, he felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder. Memories of the previous night rushed back: the carts arriving, the young Warrior cornered by an Ichani, Lord Yikmo at the window of the house, blasting the carts, Kariko, the blood gem, hurrying away...

Looking around, he saw that he was in a barn. From the angle of the beams of light streaming between the slats of wood, it was close to midday.

As he pushed himself into a sitting position, he felt a stronger twinge of pain. He slipped a hand under his robes and touched his shoulder. It sat a little higher than it should. Closing his eyes, he sent his mind inward and regarded his shoulder with dismay. As he had slept, his body had used his returning powers to begin Healing the broken bones in his arm and shoulder. But something wasn't quite right.

He sighed. Unconscious self-healing was a benefit of being a magician, but it wasn't a reliable reflex. The bones had set themselves at twisted, crooked angles. An experienced Healer could break and set them again, but for now he would have to put up with discomfort and restricted movement.

Standing up brought a short spell of dizziness, and hunger. He walked to the door of the barn and peered out. Houses surrounded the barn, but all was silent. The building closest to him looked familiar. He felt a chill as he realized it was the house where he had faced Kariko.

He felt a strong reluctance to leave the protection of the barn. The Sachakans might still be in the village, looking for replacement vehicles. He should wait until nightfall, then slip away under the cover of darkness.

Then he saw the magician lying by the back door of the house. There had been no body there the night before. It could only be one magician: Lord Yikmo.

Rothen stepped into the sunlight and hurried to the red-robed figure. He grasped Yikmo's shoulders and rolled him over. The magician's eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.

Streaks of blood had dried on the Warrior's chin. His robes were torn and covered in dust. Thinking back, Rothen recalled the moment when the front of the house had exploded inward. He had assumed that Yikmo had escaped. Instead, it seemed he had been fatally injured by the blast.

Rothen shook his head. Yikmo had been respected and admired in the Guild. Though he hadn't been strong magically, his sharp mind and ability to teach novices with learning difficulties had gained him the high regard of both Balkan and Akkarin.

Which was why Akkarin chose him as Sonea's teacher, Rothen thought. She liked Yikmo, I think. She'll be upset when she hears of his death.

As would the rest of the Guild. He considered communicating the news, but something made him hesitate. The Guild must know, from the silence following the battle, that all had perished. The Sachakans could not be sure. Best not tell them anything they don't already know, he thought.

Getting to his feet, Rothen turned to the house. He entered cautiously and approached the front room. A gaping hole opened onto the road. The shattered remains of two carts formed two piles in the center of the thoroughfare. They've gone.

Three bodies lay among the mess. Rothen looked closely at the houses on either side, then cautiously stepped out. 'Magician!' Rothen spun around, then relaxed as a teenage boy ran toward him. He remembered the boy from the evacuation of the village. It had taken some firm words from Yikmo to dissuade the youngster from hanging about to watch the fight.

'What are you doing here?' Rothen asked.

The boy stopped, and the unpracticed bow he gave was almost comically awkward. 'Came back to see what happened, my lord,' he replied. His eyes strayed to the carts. 'That the enemy?'

Rothen moved to the bodies and examined them. All were Sachakan. He noted the numerous scars on their arms. 'Slaves,' he said. He looked closer. 'Looks like they were injured when we struck the carts. They're bad wounds, but nothing that couldn't have been Healed, and nothing that would have killed them quickly.'

'You think the Sachakans killed their own people?'

'Maybe.' Rothen straightened and looked from one dead Sachakan to another. 'Yes. Those cuts on their wrists aren't from splinters of wood.'

'I guess they didn't want their slaves slowing them down,' the boy said.

'Have you looked around the village?' Rothen asked.

The boy nodded.

'Seen any other Guild magicians?'

The boy nodded again, then lowered his eyes. 'All dead, though.'

Rothen sighed. 'Are there any horses left?'

The boy grinned. 'Not here, but I can get you one. My da trains racehorses for House Arran. The estate isn't far away. I can run there and back in half an hour.'

'Then go fetch a horse.' Rothen looked around at the houses. 'And some men to take care of the bodies, too.'

'Where you want them put? In the Calia cemetery?'

A cemetery. Rothen thought of the mysterious cemetery in the forest behind the Guild, then of Akkarin's claims that black magic had been in common use before it was banned. Suddenly the reason for the existence of the graves was all too clear.

'For now,' Rothen replied. 'I will stay to identify them, then ride to the city.'

Like so many of the people before her, the woman who entered the room hesitated when she saw Sonea.

'I know, the veil's a bit much,' Sonea said, speaking with the slum accent. 'They say I got to wear this so nobody know who the Thieves' magicians are.' The veil had been Takan's idea. Wearing it meant that even the hundred or so potential magicians she took power from would not see her. Akkarin, who was meeting people in another room, was wearing a mask.

'Sonea?' the woman whispered.

Sonea felt a stab of alarm. She looked closer, then pulled the veil off as she recognized the woman.

'Jonna!'

Sonea hurried around the table and hugged her aunt tightly.

'It's really you,' Jonna said, leaning back to stare at Sonea. 'I thought the Guild sent you away.'

'They did.' Sonea grinned. 'I came back. We can't let these Sachakans make a mess of our city, can we?'