The High Lord

'When have I heard that before?'

As Cery entered his rooms he drew in a deep breath. A warm, spicy scent hung in the air. He smiled and followed it to the bathing room, where he found Savara relaxing in a tub of water.

'In the bath again?' he asked.

She smiled slyly. 'Care to join me?'

'I think I'll stay a safe distance away, for now.'

Her smile widened. 'Then tell me what I've missed.'

'I'll just get a chair.'

He returned to the guestroom, stopped in the center and took several deep breaths.

Once again, he had felt a strong desire to tell her everything. He had made a deal with her: keep her informed in exchange for suggestions on killing Ichani. Part of him was sure he could trust her, but another whispered a warning.

How much did he know about her, really? She was Sachakan. She had sought out and identified her countrymen - and women - for him, knowing that they would be killed. That did not mean she had Kyralia's best interests in mind, however. She had told him she worked for another 'faction' of Sachakan society, and it was clear that her loyalties lay with her people.

He had made a deal, and so far she had kept her side of it...

But he couldn't tell her that Akkarin and Sonea had returned. Should news of their arrival and preparations get out, the Ichani would win. If he trusted Savara, and she betrayed them, Kyralia's fall would rest on his shoulders.

And Sonea might be killed. He felt vaguely guilty about withholding information from the new woman in his life for the sake of the old. But if I endangered the life of the old by mistakenly trusting the new, he reasoned, I'd feel far worse than I do now.

But Savara would find out eventually. Cery's heart raced with a strange, unfamiliar fear when he considered how she might react.

She will understand, he told himself. What sort of Thief would I be if I so easily gave away the secrets entrusted to me? And it's not like she's going to stay here long. Once it's over, she'll leave me anyway.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up a chair and carried it into the bathing room. She folded her arms over the edge of the tub, and rested her chin on them.

'So what have the Thieves decided?'

'They liked our ideas,' he told her. 'Limek set his people working on making robes.'

She grinned. 'I hope these people can run fast.'

'They'll use the Thieves' Road to get away again. We've also got people out looking for good places to lay traps.'

She nodded. 'The Guild sent out a mental call for Akkarin today.'

He feigned surprise. 'What did he say?'

'He didn't reply.'

Cery frowned. 'You don't think he's...?'

'Dead?' Her shoulders lifted slightly. 'I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe it's too dangerous to answer. He might attract the wrong kind of attention.'

He nodded and found it all too easy to look worried. Unfolding her arms, she beckoned to him.

'Come here, Cery,' she murmured. 'You leave me here all alone, all day long. A girl could get bored.'

He stood and crossed his arms. 'All day? I heard you slipped out to the Market.'

She chuckled. 'I thought you might. I wanted to pick up something I had a jeweler make for me. Look.'

A small box sat on the lip of the tub. She picked it up and handed it to him.

'A gift for you,' she said. 'Made with a few gems from my knives.'

Lifting off the lid, Cery caught his breath at the strange silver pendant inside. Intricate, veined wings sprouted from an elongated body. Twin glints of yellow formed the eyes of the insect, and green stones dotted its curved tail. The abdomen was a large, smooth ruby.

'In my country it's considered good luck for an inava to land on you just before a battle,' she told him. 'It is also the messenger of separated lovers. I've noticed Kyralian men don't wear jewelry, but you could keep it underneath your clothes.' She smiled. 'Close to your skin.'

He felt a pang of guilt. Lifting the pendant out of the box, he slipped the chain over his head.

'It's beautiful,' he told her. 'Thank you.'

She looked away for a moment, as if suddenly embarrassed by the sentimentality of her gift. Then she smiled slyly.

'How about coming in here and thanking me properly?'

Cery laughed. 'All right. How can I say no to that?'

33 The Ichani Arrive

The morning sun crept slowly over the horizon as if reluctant to face the coming day. The first rays touched the towers of the Palace, painting them a vivid orange-yellow. Slowly the golden light spread across the rooftops, starting at the edge of the city and drawing ever closer to the Outer Wall, until it bathed the faces of the magicians standing along the top.

They had left the Guild as soon as scouts had reported that the Sachakans were on the move. Climbing to the top of the Outer Wall, they had spread themselves out in a long line. It was a formidable sight, so many hundreds of magicians gathered together - unlike the two overloaded carts trundling slowly toward the city. Lorlen had to remind himself that the occupants of those carts had already killed more than forty of the Guild's best Warriors and were several times stronger than the magicians on the wall.

The Ichani had found a replacement for the carts Yikmo's men had destroyed, but it had delayed them by half a day. The Guild hadn't benefited from the Warriors' sacrifice, however. All Sarrin's attempts to learn black magic had failed. The old magician had said that he could not quite make sense of the descriptions and instructions on black magic in the books. He had grown increasingly distressed as each day passed. Lorlen knew that the likelihood that Yikmo and his men had died for nothing weighed on Sarrin's conscience as much as his failure to become Kyralia's savior.

Lorlen glanced at the Alchemist, who was standing several strides away. Sarrin looked haggard and tired, but regarded the advancing enemy with grim determination. Lorlen then looked at Balkan, who stood with his arms crossed, somehow managing to appear confident and at ease. Lady Vinara seemed as calm and resolute.

Lorlen regarded the approaching carts again. Scouts had reported the location of the enemy the night before. The Sachakans had broken into an abandoned farmhouse beside the road, only an hour's travel from the city. When it appeared that they intended to delay their attack until the next day, the King had been pleased. He still hoped that Sarrin would succeed.

One of the King's counselors had pointed out that the Ichani would not rest unless they needed it. Lorlen had recognized this man as Raven, the professional spy who had accompanied Rothen on the first days of his abandoned mission.

'If they want to sleep, we should prevent it,' Raven had said. 'You don't need to send magicians. Ordinary men may be of no use in a magical confrontation, but don't underestimate our ability to be annoying.'

So a handful of guards had slipped out into the night to release swarms of sapflys into the farmhouse, rouse the Sachakans with loud noises, and finally set the building on fire. The last was done with more than the usual relish, after the Ichani had caught one of the guards. What they did to the man did not bode well for those citizens who hadn't left Imardin yet.

Looking over his shoulder, Lorlen considered the city. The streets were empty and silent. Most members of the Houses had sailed for Elyne, taking their families and servants with them. A line of carts had flowed through the