The High Lord

Akkarin regarded his servant closely. 'You think she is an Ichani?'

'Possibly. You should prepare as if she was. You should...' He glanced at Sonea. 'You should take an ally.'

Sonea blinked at the servant in surprise. Did he mean she should go with Akkarin when he faced this woman again?

'We have already discussed this,' Akkarin began.

'And you said you would reconsider it if they attack Kyralia,' Takan replied. 'If this woman is Ichani, they are already here. What if she is too strong for you? You can't risk losing your life, and leaving the Guild with no defense.'

Sonea felt her pulse quickening. 'And two pairs of eyes are better than one,' she said quickly. 'If I had come with you tonight—'

'You might have got in the way.'

That stung. Sonea felt a flare of anger. 'You think so, do you? I'm just a soft novice like the rest. Don't know my way around the slums, or how to hide from magicians.'

He stared at her, then his shoulders slumped and he began to laugh softly.

'What am I to do?' he asked. 'You are both determined to wear me down on this.'

He rubbed his arm absently. Sonea looked down and blinked in surprise. The red wounds were now only pink. He had been Healing himself even as they spoke.

'I will teach Sonea only if this woman is Ichani. Then we will know they have become a real threat.'

'If she is Ichani, you may end up dead,' Takan said bluntly. 'Be prepared, master.'

Akkarin looked up at Sonea. His eyes were shadowed, his expression distant and thoughtful.

'What do you think, Sonea? This is not something you should agree to without much careful consideration.'

She drew in a deep breath. 'I have considered it. If there's no other way, then I'll take the risk and learn black magic. After all, what is the point of being a good, law-abiding novice if there is no Guild? If you die, the rest of us probably will, too.'

Slowly, Akkarin nodded.

'Very well. I do not like it. If there was another way, I would take it.' He sighed. 'But there isn't. We will begin tomorrow night.'

11 Forbidden Knowledge

Three yerim thumped spike first into the door of Cery's office. Rising from his desk, he pulled out the scribe tools and returned to his seat. He stared at the door, then tossed the yerim again, one after another.

They landed just where he intended, at the points of an imagined triangle. Standing up again, he strolled across the room to retrieve them. Thinking of the merchant who was waiting behind that door, Cery smiled. What did the man make of this regular thudding on the Thief's door?

Then he sighed. He really ought to see the merchant and get it over with, but he wasn't in a generous mood, and this man usually visited to beg for more time to pay back his debts. Cery wasn't yet sure whether or not the man was testing the newest, youngest Thief to see how far he could be pushed. A slowly repaid debt was better than one not paid at all, but a Thief with a reputation for endless patience was a Thief without respect.

Sometimes he needed to show he was willing to use a firm hand.

Cery looked at the yerim, their points embedded deep in the grain of the door. He had to admit it. The merchant wasn't the real reason for his brooding.

'She got away,' Morren had reported. 'He let her.'

Pressed for details, Morren had described a fierce battle. Clearly, this woman had been stronger than Akkarin expected. He had been unable to contain her magic. It had wrecked the room in the bolhouse she had been staying in.

Several other patrons had witnessed more than they should have - though Cery had ensured that most were well and truly inebriated beforehand by sending a few men into the bol servery with considerable 'winnings' from the races to share. Those who had not been drunk, or had been outside the bolhouse, had been paid to stay quiet - though that rarely stopped gossip for long. Not when it involved a woman floating to the ground from a third-story window.

It's not a disaster, Cery told himself for the hundredth time. We'll find her again. Akkarin will make sure he is better prepared. He walked back to his desk and sat down, then opened the drawer and dropped the yerim into it.

As he expected, a tentative knock on the door followed after a few minutes of silence.

'Come in, Gol,' Cery called. He looked down and straightened his clothes as the door opened and the big man stepped inside. 'Better send Hem in.' He looked up. 'Get it done... what's got you?'

Gol was wearing a wide grin. 'Savara's here.'

Cery felt his pulse quicken. How much did she know? How much should he tell her? He straightened his shoulders.

'Send her in.'

Gol retreated. When the door opened next, Savara stepped into the room. She strode over to the desk, looking smug.

'I hear your High Lord met his match last night.'

'How'd you get that?' Cery asked.

She shrugged. 'People tend to tell me things, if I ask nicely.' Though her tone was flippant, there was a crease between her eyebrows.

'I don't doubt it,' Cery replied. 'What else did you get?'

'She escaped. Which would not have happened if you had let me take care of her.'

He couldn't help smiling. 'Like you'd have done better.'

Her eyes flashed. 'Oh, I would have.'

'How?'

'I have my ways.' She crossed her arms. 'I would like to kill this woman, but now Akkarin knows about her, I cannot. I wish you had not told him.' She gave him a very direct look. 'When are you going to trust me?'

'Trust you?' He chuckled. 'Not ever. Let you kill one of these murderers?' He pursed his lips, as if considering. 'Next time.'

She stared at him intently. 'Do I have your word on that?'

He held her gaze and nodded. 'Yes, you have my word. Find this woman, and give me no reason to change my mind, and you kill the next slave.'

Savara frowned, but did not protest. 'You have a deal. When he does kill this woman, I will be there whether you approve or not. I wish to see her death, at least.'

'What'd she do to you?'

'I helped that woman a long time ago, and she made me regret it.' She regarded him soberly. 'You think you are tough and ruthless, Thief. If you are cruel, it is to maintain order and respect. Murder and cruelty are a game for Ichani.'

Cery frowned. 'What did she do?'

Savara hesitated, then shook her head. 'I can tell you no more.'

'But there is more, isn't there?' Cery sighed. 'And you ask me to trust you?'

She smiled. 'As much as you want me to trust you. You don't tell me the details of your deal with the High Lord yet you expect me to trust that you are keeping my existence a secret.'

'So you must trust me if I say whether you do or don't kill one of the murderers - or murderesses.' Cery allowed himself a smile. 'But, if you're set on watching this fight, then I'll also be there. I hate that I always miss the show.'