The High Lord

Below this last entry was a note:

Seventy years later Lord Koril, Head of Warriors, died in a practice bout at the age of twenty- eight. It is likely that he did not have an opportunity to pass on the knowledge of the secret 'weapon.'

Sonea stared at Akkarin's postscript. Lord Coren had discovered a chest full of books. Was this the secret store of knowledge?

She sighed and closed the book. The more she learned, the more questions arose. She got to her feet and swayed, realizing belatedly that she had been reading for hours. Yawning, she covered Akkarin's books with her notes, then changed into her bedclothes, slipped into bed and fell into a sleep filled with nightmarish scenes of power-crazed magicians stalking livestock and villagers.

5 Speculation

Though he received news of a murder bearing all the indicators he'd been taught to look for, Cery had waited until a week passed since his meeting with Savara before he let her know she had been right. He wanted to see how long she would endure her self-imposed imprisonment in her hired room. When he heard that she had suggested some fighting practice with one of her 'guards,' he knew her patience was running out. And curiosity got the better of him when the man admitted to losing every bout.

He paced his room as he waited for her to arrive. His investigations had revealed little. The owner of the room could only say Savara had started renting it a few days before her visit to Cery. Only two of the city's weapons sellers recognized her knife as Sachakan. The city's gutters all claimed, after bribes and other means of ensuring they told the truth, that they had never fenced a weapon like it before. He doubted he would find anyone in the city who could tell him more.

At a knock on the door he stopped pacing. He returned to his chair and cleared his throat.

'Come in.'

She smiled warmly as she entered the room. Oh, she knows she's beautiful, and how to use it to get what she wants, he thought. He kept his expression neutral.

'Ceryni,' she said.

'Savara. I hear my tag gave you some sport.'

A tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows. 'Yes, he was energetic, but needed the practice more than I.' She paused. 'The others might have proved more challenging.'

Cery resisted a smile. She had noticed more than one other watcher. Very observant.

'Too late to find out,' he said, shrugging. 'I have given them something else to do.'

The crease between her brows deepened. 'What of the slave? Did he not kill?'

' 'Slave'?' Cery repeated.

'The man who replaced the last murderer.'

Interesting. Slaves owned by whom?

'He killed, like you said,' Cery confirmed.

Her eyes flashed with triumph at the news. 'Then will you accept my help?'

'Can you lead us to him?'

'Yes,' she replied without hesitation.

'What do you want in return?'

She moved closer to his desk. 'That you say nothing of me to your master.'

A chill ran over his skin. 'My master?'

'The one who has ordered you to kill these men,' she said softly.

She should not know about him. She shouldn't even know that Cery was acting on the orders of another.

This changed everything. Cery crossed his arms and considered her carefully. Investigating her usefulness without consulting the one who arranged the hunt had seemed like a small risk. Now it appeared to have been greater than he had thought.

She knew too much. He ought to send his best knife to despatch her. Or kill her himself. Now.

Even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't. And it's not just because I find her interesting, he told himself. I need to know how she learned so much about the arrangement. I'll wait, have her watched, and see where this leads.

'Have you told him about me?' she asked.

'Why don't you want him to know about you?'

Her expression darkened. 'Two reasons. These slaves know only one enemy hunts them. It will be easier for me to help you if they do not know I am here. And there are people in my country who would suffer if the slaves' masters learned I was here.'

'And you think that these slaves would find out about you if my 'master,' as you call him, knew?'

'Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'd rather not take the risk.'

'You are only asking this now. I might have told my customer about you already.'

'Did you?'

He shook his head. She smiled, clearly relieved. 'I didn't think you would. Not until you knew I could do what I said I could. So, do we have a deal, as you Thieves say?'

Cery opened the drawer of his desk and drew out her knife. He heard her indrawn breath. The jewels in the handle glittered in the lamplight. He slid it across the table.

'Tonight you'll tag this man for us. That's all. No killing. I want to be sure he is who you say he is before he's done in. In return, I keep my mug shut about you. For now.'

She smiled, her eyes bright with eagerness. 'I will go back to my room until then.'

Watching her saunter to the door, Cery felt his heartbeat quicken. How many men have lost their wits over that walk - or that smile? he wondered. Ah, but I'd wager some of them lost more than their wits.

Not me, he thought. I'll be watching her very closely.

Sonea closed the book she had been trying to read and looked around the library. It was too difficult to concentrate. Her mind kept returning to Akkarin and the records.

It had been a week since he'd given them to her, and he hadn't yet returned to collect them. The thought of what was lying on her desk in her room, hidden under a pile of notes, was like an itch no amount of scratching could ease. She wouldn't be able to relax until he took them back.

But she dreaded facing Akkarin again. She dreaded the conversation that would follow. Would he bring more books? What would they contain? So far, he had only shown her pieces of forgotten history. There had been no instructions on how to use black magic, yet the secret trunk that the record-keeper had buried - probably the same trunk that the architect Lord Coren had discovered and reburied - must contain enough information about the 'secret weapon' of black magic for a magician to learn it. What would she do if Akkarin gave her one of those books to read?

To learn about black magic was to break a Guild law. If she found herself reading instructions on its use, she would stop and refuse to read any more.

'Look, there's Lord Larkin!'

The voice was female and close by. Looking around, Sonea saw a movement at the end of a bookshelf. A girl was just visible, standing by one of the Novices' Library windows.

'The Building and Construction teacher?' another girlish voice replied. 'I never considered him before, but he is fairly good-looking, I suppose.'

'And still unmarried.'

'Not showing much interest in getting married, from what I hear.'