The High Lord

He had to know. Turning on his heel, he strode toward the door.

'Gol. Send the High Lord a message. We need to talk.'

Lorlen stepped into the Entrance Hall of the University and stopped as he saw Akkarin pass between the enormous doors.

'Lorlen,' Akkarin said, 'are you busy?'

'I'm always busy,' Lorlen replied.

Akkarin's mouth curled into a wry smile. 'This should take only a few minutes.'

'Very well.'

Akkarin gestured toward Lorlen's office. Something private, then, Lorlen mused. He moved out of the Hall back into the corridor, but was only a few steps away from his office when a voice called out.

'High Lord.'

An Alchemist stood just outside the door of a classroom farther down the corridor.

Akkarin stopped. 'Yes, Lord Halvin?'

The teacher hurried forward. 'Sonea has not appeared for class this morning. Is she unwell?'

Lorlen saw a look of concern cross Akkarin's face, but he could not tell if it was for Sonea's wellbeing, or that she was not where she was supposed to be.

'Her servant has not informed me of any sickness,' Akkarin replied.

'I'm sure there is a good reason. I just thought it unusual. She is normally so punctual.' Halvin glanced back at the classroom he had left. 'I'd best get back, before they turn into wild animals.'

'Thank you for informing me,' Akkarin said. Halvin nodded again, then hurried away. Akkarin turned to regard Lorlen. 'This other issue will have to wait. I had best find out what my novice is up to.'

Watching him stalk away, Lorlen struggled to hold back a growing feeling of foreboding. Surely if she was sick her servant would have informed Akkarin. Why would she deliberately neglect to attend classes? His blood turned cold. Had she and Rothen decided to move against Akkarin? Surely, if they had, they would have told him first.

Wouldn't they?

Returning to the Entrance Hall, he looked up the stairs. If they had planned something together, they would both be missing. He had only to check Rothen's classroom.

Moving to the stairs, he hurried upward.

The noon sun streaked through the forest, touching the bright green of new leaves. Its warmth still radiated from the large rock shelf Sonea was sitting on, and lingered in the boulder she had set her back against.

In the distance a gong sounded. Novices would be hurrying out to enjoy the early autumn weather. She should go back, and pretend her absence was due to a sudden headache or other minor illness.

But she couldn't get herself to move.

She had climbed up to the spring in the early morning, hoping that the walk would clear her head. It hadn't, though. All that she had learned kept turning through her mind in a jumbled mess. Perhaps this was because she hadn't slept at all. She was too weary to make sense of everything - and too tired to face returning to classes and behaving as if nothing had changed.

But everything has changed. I have to take time to think about what I have learned, she told herself. I have to sort out what it means before I face Akkarin again.

She closed her eyes and drew on a little Healing power to chase away the weariness.

What have I learned?

The Guild, and all of Kyralia, were in danger of being invaded by Sachakan black magicians.

Why hadn't Akkarin told anyone? If the Guild knew it faced a possible invasion, it could prepare for it. It couldn't defend itself if it didn't know of the threat.

Yet, if Akkarin told them, he would have to admit to learning black magic. Was the reason for his silence as simple and selfish as that? Maybe there was another reason.

She still didn't know how he had learned to use black magic. Tavaka had believed that only Ichani possessed that knowledge. He had only been taught it so that he could kill Akkarin.

And Akkarin had been a slave.

It was impossible to imagine the aloof, dignified, powerful High Lord living as, of all things, a slave.

But he had been one, of that she was sure. He had escaped somehow and returned to Kyralia. He had become High Lord. Now he was secretly and singlehandedly keeping these Ichani at bay by killing off their spies.

He was not the person she had thought he was.

He might even be a good person.

She frowned. Let's not go that far. He learned black magic somehow, and I'm still a hostage.

Without black magic, however, how could he defeat these spies? And if there was a good reason for keeping all this a secret, he'd had no choice but to ensure she, Rothen and Lorlen remained silent.

'Sonea.'

She jumped, then turned toward the voice. Akkarin stood in the shadow of a large tree, his arms crossed. She rose hastily and bowed.

'High Lord.'

He stood regarding her for a moment, then he uncrossed his arms and started toward her. As he stepped up onto the rock shelf, his gaze shifted to the boulder she had been resting against. He dropped into a crouch and examined its surface carefully. She heard the scrape of stone against stone and blinked in surprise as a section slid outward, revealing an irregularly shaped hole.

'Ah, it's still here,' he said quietly. Putting down the slab of rock that he had removed, he reached inside the hole and drew out a small, battered wooden box. Several holes had been drilled into the lid in grid pattern. The lid sprang open. He tilted the box so Sonea could see the contents clearly.

Inside lay a set of game pieces, each with a small peg to fit into the holes in the lid.

'Lorlen and I used to come here to escape Lord Margen's lessons.' He plucked out one of the pieces and examined it.

Sonea blinked in surprise. 'Lord Margen? Rothen's mentor?'

'Yes. He was a strict teacher. We called him 'the monster.' Rothen took over his classes the year after I graduated.'

It was as hard to picture Akkarin as a young novice as it was to imagine him as a slave. She knew he was only a few years older than Dannyl, yet Dannyl seemed much younger. It was not that Akkarin looked older, she mused, it was simply his manner and position that added an impression of greater maturity.

Replacing the game pieces, Akkarin closed the box and returned it to its hiding place. He sat down, bracing his back against the boulder. Sonea felt a strange discomfort. Gone was the dignified, threatening High Lord who had taken her guardianship from Rothen to ensure his crimes remained undiscovered. She wasn't sure how to react to this casualness. Sitting down a few steps away, she watched him looking around the spring as if checking that it was still the same as he remembered.

'I was not much older than you when I left the Guild,' he said. 'I was twenty, and I'd chosen the Warrior Skills discipline out of a hunger for challenge and excitement. But there was no adventure to be found here in the Guild. I had to escape it for a while. So I decided to write a book on ancient magic as an excuse to travel and see the world.'

She stared at him in surprise. His gaze had become distant, as if he were seeing an old memory rather than the trees around the spring. It seemed he intended to tell her his story.

'During my research I found some strange references to old magic that intrigued me. Those references led me into Sachaka.' He shook his head. 'If I'd kept to the main road, I might have been safe. The occasional Kyralian trader enters Sachaka in search of exotic goods. The King sends diplomats there every few years, in the company of magicians. But Sachaka is a big country, and a secretive one. The Guild knows there are magicians there, but