The High Lord

used wine glasses.

'Perhaps he went out to get some food,' Farand suggested. 'If we wait, he might come back.'

Dannyl shook his head. 'He wouldn't go out unless he was forced to. Not today.' He entered the kitchen, where a half-empty wine glass and a bottle sat on a large table. 'Is there anywhere I haven't checked?'

Farand pointed to a door. 'The cellar?'

The door opened onto a staircase, which descended to a large storeroom full of bottles and some food. The room was empty. Dannyl returned to the kitchen. Farand gestured to the half-empty glass of wine.

'He left in a hurry,' he murmured. 'From this room. So, if I was standing here and something caused me to flee the house, where would I go?' He looked at Dannyl. 'The servant's entrance is the closest.'

Dannyl nodded. 'Then we go that way, too.'

The Guild grounds were so empty and quiet, it might have been mid-year break. The silence was too complete, however. Even during those few weeks of the year when classes were closed and most magicians took the opportunity to visit family, it was never this quiet in the grounds.

As Rothen entered the University, he began to wonder if the Guild was the best place for him to be. All the way to Imardin, he had thought no further ahead than getting to familiar surroundings. But now that he had arrived, he found the Guild lacked the anticipated feeling of safety that had drawn him here.

He knew from the minds of Kariko's victims that the Guild had confronted the Ichani one last time outside the Palace. They had killed a Sachakan, but had exhausted themselves in the process. After that, Kariko's victims had been Palace guards, so Rothen could assume the Ichani were still in the center of the city. Where would the Ichani go once they had gained control of the Palace? Rothen stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall as his blood turned cold.

The Guild grounds.

Balkan knows this, he thought. He will have told everyone to flee the city. He will want us to gather together elsewhere, recover our strength, then start planning to regain Imardin. I should leave here and try to join them.

Rothen looked up at the grand ceiling of the Hall and sighed heavily. No doubt this would all be destroyed in the next day or two. He shook his head sadly and turned to go.

Then froze as he heard voices behind him.

His first thought was that the Ichani had arrived, then he felt a shock as he recognized the voices. Turning back, he hurried down the hall.

Balkan and Dorrien stood in front of the Guildhall. They were arguing, but Rothen didn't pause to listen. Both looked up as he appeared.

'Father!' Dorrien gasped.

A wave of relief and affection swept over Rothen. He's alive. Dorrien ran forward and embraced him. Rothen stiffened as pain shot through his shoulder.

'Dorrien,' he said. 'What are you doing here?'

'Lorlen called everyone to Imardin,' Dorrien said. His eyes focused on the scar where Kariko had cut Rothen's cheek. 'Father, we thought you were dead. Why didn't you contact us?' He frowned at Rothen's shoulder. 'You're injured. What happened?'

'I wasn't sure if I could risk mental communication. There was the ban and...' Rothen hesitated, reluctant to tell Dorrien about the ring. 'My shoulder and arm broke in the fight, and healed badly in my sleep. But you didn't answer me - or perhaps I'm not asking the right question. Why are you here in the grounds? Surely this is where the Ichani will come next.'

Dorrien looked at Balkan. 'I... I didn't fight with the rest of the magicians. I slipped away at the first opportunity.'

Rothen stared at his son in surprise. He could not imagine Dorrien avoiding a fight. His son was no coward.

A look of intense frustration crossed Dorrien's face. 'I have reasons,' he said. 'I can't tell you what they are. I've been sworn to secrecy. You just have to trust me when I say I must not risk being caught by the Ichani. If they read my mind our last chance of killing the Ichani will be lost.'

'Our last chance has come and gone,' Balkan said. Then his eyes narrowed. 'Unless...'

Dorrien shook his head. 'Don't speculate. I've said too much already.'

'If you are so concerned that the Ichani will read your mind, why are you here, in the grounds, where they will probably come next?' Rothen asked.

'I have a clear view of the gates from the Entrance Hall,' Dorrien replied. 'I'll see them coming, and leave through the forest. If I enter the city, the chances of being caught increase.'

'Why not leave now?' Balkan asked.

Dorrien turned to regard him. 'I'm not leaving until I have to. If the secret I hold is discovered by another means, I'll be free to help.'

Balkan frowned. 'Surely, if we leave with you, you can afford to risk telling us what this secret is.'

The stubborn expression on Dorrien's face was all too familiar. Rothen shook his head.

'I don't like your chances of talking him around, Balkan. I do think we should leave at the first sign the Ichani are coming here, however. Which brings me to wonder, why are you here?'

The Warrior's frown changed to a scowl. 'Someone should witness the fate of our home.'

Rothen nodded. 'Then the three of us will stay until the end.'

'Sweet bloodweed,' Faren whispered, holding up a tiny bottle. 'Almost undetectable in wine or sweet dishes. It works quickly, so be ready.'

Sonea glanced at the Thief and rolled her eyes.

'What?' he asked.

'Somehow it doesn't surprise me that you know so much about poisons, Faren.'

He smiled. 'I must admit, I started learning about them out of a fancy to mimic my namesake. The knowledge has been useful, at times, but not nearly as often as you'd think. Your novice friend seems particularly interested in the subject.'

'He's not my friend.'

Sonea pressed her eye to the peephole again. Most of the room beyond was taken up by a large dining table. Silver cutlery glinted softly in the filtered light from two small windows. A half-eaten meal lay cold and congealed on the fine plates.

They were inside one of the large Inner Circle mansions. The dining room was a small, private one with two servant doors as well as the main entrance. Sonea and Faren stood behind one door; Akkarin was standing behind the other.

'Cery seemed to think you two had a special acquaintance,' Faren continued to prod.

She snorted softly. 'He offered to kill Regin once. It was tempting.'

'Ah,' he replied.

Sonea looked at the glasses on the table. They were filled with varying levels of wine. Bottles, opened and unopened, were arranged at the center. All had been laced with poison.

'So what did our volunteer do that inspired such a generous offer from Cery?'

'None of your business.'

'Isn't it? How interesting.'

Sonea jumped as the main door of the dining room burst open. Regin leapt inside, then pushed the door shut again. He dashed around the table and ran to the servants' door that Akkarin was waiting behind. Grasping the handle, he paused.

The main door opened again. Regin pretended to struggle with the doorhandle. Sonea felt her heart begin to race as one of the Ichani men stepped into the room. He looked at Regin, then down at the table.

'So I guess you won't be too eager to save him if the Ichani doesn't fall for the bait,' Faren whispered.

'Of course I'll save him,' Sonea muttered in reply. 'Regin might be a... a... whatever, but he doesn't deserve to die.'

As the Ichani looked at Regin again, the boy pressed his back to the door, his face deathly white. The Ichani moved around the table. Regin slid around the wall, keeping the table between him and the Sachakan.

The Ichani chuckled. Reaching out, he took one of the glasses and lifted it to his lips. He sipped and