The High Lord

There was a giggle. Leaning out from her chair, Sonea recognized the first girl as one of the fifth-year novices.

'Oh, look! There's Lord Darlen. He's nice.'

The other girl made an appreciative noise. 'Pity he's married.'

'Mmm,' the first agreed. 'What do you think of Lord Vorel?'

'Vorel! You're kidding!'

'Not one for strong Warrior types, are you?'

Sonea guessed the girls were watching magicians heading toward the Night Room. She listened, amused, as they assessed the merits of many of the younger magicians.

'No... look there... now that I wouldn't turn down.'

'Oh, yes,' the other agreed in a hushed voice. 'Look, he's stopped to talk to Director Jerrik.'

'He's a bit... cold, though.'

'Oh, I'm sure he could be warmed up.'

The girls laughed slyly. When they had quietened again, one gave a sigh of longing. 'He's so handsome. Pity he's too old for us.'

'I don't know,' the other replied. 'He's not that old. My cousin was married off to a man much older. He might not look it, but the High Lord is no more than thirty-three or four.'

Sonea stiffened with surprise and disbelief. They were talking about Akkarin!

But, of course, they didn't know what he was like. They saw only an unmarried man who was mysterious, powerful and—

'The library is closing.'

Sonea jumped and turned to find Tya, the librarian, striding along the aisle between the bookshelves. Tya smiled at Sonea as she passed. The girls at the window gave one last sigh and left.

Rising, Sonea stacked up her books and notes. She lifted them in her arms, then paused and looked back at the window. Was he still there?

She moved over to the glass and peered out. Sure enough, Akkarin was standing with Jerrik. Lines creased his forehead. Though his expression was attentive, it gave nothing of his thoughts away.

How could those girls find him attractive? she wondered. He was harsh and aloof. Not bright-eyed and warm like Dorrien, or even slickly handsome like Lord Fergun.

If the girls she had overheard hadn't joined the Guild, they would have been married off for the sake of family alliances. Perhaps they still looked for power and influence in men out of habit or long tradition. She smiled grimly.

If they knew the truth, she thought, they would not find him very attractive at all.

At midnight, three hours' carriage ride from the lights of Capia, the darkness was heavy and impenetrable. Only the small pools of light cast by the carriage lamps lit their passage down the road. Staring out into the blackness, Dannyl wondered what the carriage looked like to the occupants of unseen country houses; probably a moving cluster of lights, visible for miles around. The vehicle crested a rise and a point of brightness appeared beside the road ahead. As they drew rapidly closer, Dannyl saw that it was a lamp, the weak light illuminating the front of a building. The carriage began to slow.

'We're here,' Dannyl murmured.

He heard Tayend shift in his seat to look out the window. The scholar yawned as the carriage drew closer to the building and swayed to a stop. The sign on the resthouse read: 'River Rest: Beds, Meals & Drinks.'

The driver muttered to himself as he clambered down to open the door. Dannyl passed the man a coin.

'Wait for us inside,' he instructed. 'We'll be travelling on in an hour.'

The man bowed, then rapped on the door for them. There was a short pause and a hatch in the middle of the door opened. Dannyl could hear wheezing beyond.

'What can I do for you, my lord?' a muffled voice asked.

'A drink,' Dannyl replied. 'An hour's rest.'

There was no reply, but a metallic clang followed and the door swung inward. A small, wrinkled man bowed, then ushered them into a large room filled with tables and chairs. The heavy, sweet smell of bol hung in the air. Dannyl smiled wistfully as memories of his search for Sonea, so long ago now, returned. It had been a long time since he'd tasted bol.

'Urrend's my name. What you like to drink, then?' the man asked.

Dannyl sighed. 'Do you have any Porreni rumia?'

The man chuckled. 'You got good taste in wine. But of course you have, two high-born men like yourselves. Got a nice guestroom for rich people upstairs. Follow me.'

The carriage driver had swaggered over to the bench where the bol was served. Dannyl wondered belatedly if he should have given the man the coin - he didn't want to find himself in an upturned carriage halfway to Tayend's sister's home.

They followed the resthouse owner up a narrow flight of stairs into a corridor. He stopped outside a door.

'This is my best room. I hope you find it comfortable.'

He gave a push, and the door opened. Dannyl stepped inside slowly, taking note of the well-worn furniture, the second door, and the man sitting near it.

'Good evening, Ambassador.' The man rose and bowed gracefully. 'I am Royend of Marane.'

'Honored to meet you,' Dannyl replied. 'I believe you are already acquainted with Tayend of Tremmelin?'

The man nodded. 'Indeed I am. I have ordered some wine. Would you like some?'

'A little, thank you,' Dannyl replied. 'We will be travelling on in an hour.'

Dannyl and Tayend settled into two of the chairs. The Dem strolled around the room, inspecting the furniture and grimacing with distaste, then paused to look out of the windows. He was taller than the average Elyne, and his hair was black. Dannyl had learned from Errend that Dem Marane's grandmother had been Kyralian. He was middle-aged, married, father to two sons and very, very rich.

'So what do you think of Elyne, Ambassador?'

'I have grown to like it here,' Dannyl replied.

'You did not, at first?'

'It was not that I liked or disliked the country. It merely took some time to become used to the differences. Some of them were appealing, some were strange.'

The Dem's brows rose. 'What did you find strange about us?'

Dannyl chuckled. 'Elynes speak their mind, though not often plainly.'

A smile creased the man's face, but it disappeared again at a knock on the door. As he started toward it Dannyl waved a hand and exerted his will. The door swung open. The Dem halted and, as he realized that Dannyl had used magic, a look of hunger and frustrated desire crossed his face. It vanished a moment later as the resthouse owner stepped into the room with a bottle and three wine glasses.

No word was spoken as the bottle was unstoppered and the wine poured. When the resthouse owner left, the Dem picked up a glass and settled into a chair.

'So what do you find appealing about Elyne, then?'

'You have excellent wine.' Dannyl lifted his glass and smiled. 'And your minds are open and accepting. Much is tolerated here that would shock and scandalize Kyralians.'

Royend glanced at Tayend. 'You must be aware of those shocking and scandalous goings on, or you would not list them among the differences you find appealing in us.'

'Would I be a suitable Guild Ambassador if I was oblivious to such matters... as the Elyne court believe me to be?'

The Dem smiled, but his eyes remained hard. 'You have already proven yourself to be more well-informed than I believed you to be. It makes me wonder. Are you as open-minded and tolerant as we are? Or do you hold the same rigid opinions as other Kyralian magicians?'

Dannyl looked at Tayend. 'I am no typical Kyralian magician.' The scholar smiled crookedly and shook his head. 'Though I have grown adept at pretending I am,' Dannyl continued. 'I think, if my peers knew me better, they