The High Lord

needed help.

The combined shield wavered and broke before her.

'Halt!'

Sonea turned to face Balkan. She blinked in surprise when she saw that he was smiling.

'An interesting strategy, Sonea,' he said. 'Not one we'd probably use in real combat, but certainly effective in the Arena. You win the bout.'

Sonea bowed. She knew that next time she attended his lessons she would find her multiple shield idea completely ineffective. The University gong rang, signalling the end of the class, and Sonea heard a few sighs among the novices. She smiled, but more at having ended the bout without using too much strength than at their obvious relief.

'Lesson over,' Balkan announced. 'You may go.'

The novices bowed and filed out of the Arena. Sonea saw that two magicians were standing just outside the entrance. Her heart skipped when she recognized them: Akkarin and Lorlen.

She followed the other novices out of the Arena. They bowed to the Higher Magicians as they passed. Akkarin ignored them and beckoned to Sonea.

'High Lord.' She bowed. 'Administrator.'

'You did well, Sonea,' Akkarin said. 'You assessed their strengths, recognized their weaknesses, and came up with an original response.'

She blinked in surprise, then felt her face warm.

'Thank you.'

'I wouldn't take Balkan's comment too seriously, however,' he added. 'In real combat, a magician uses any strategy that works.'

Lorlen gave Akkarin a penetrating look. He looked as if he desperately wanted to ask a question, but didn't dare. Or perhaps a dozen questions, Sonea mused. She felt a pang of sympathy for the Administrator, and then she remembered the ring he wore.

It enabled Akkarin to sense everything Lorlen saw, felt and thought. Was Lorlen aware of its power? If he was, he must feel utterly betrayed by his friend. She shivered. If only Akkarin could tell Lorlen the truth.

But then, if he did, would he also tell Lorlen she had willingly learned black magic? Thinking of that made her feel very uncomfortable.

Akkarin started walking toward the University. Sonea and Lorlen followed.

'The Guild will lose interest in the murderer once Ambassador Dannyl arrives with the rogue, Lorlen,' Akkarin said.

Sonea had heard about the rebels that Dannyl had caught. News about the rogue magician he was bringing to the Guild had spread among the novices faster than the winter cough.

'Perhaps,' Lorlen replied, 'but they won't forget. Nobody forgets a killing spree like this. I wouldn't be surprised if someone demands the Guild do something about it.'

Akkarin sighed. 'As if having magic makes it any easier for us to find one person in a city of many thousands.'

Lorlen opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at Sonea and seemed to think better of it. He remained silent until they reached the University steps, then he bid them good night and hurried away. Akkarin started toward the residence.

'So the Thieves haven't found the spy yet?' Sonea asked quietly.

Akkarin shook his head.

'Does it usually take this long?'

He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. 'You're eager to see us fight, then?'

'Eager?' She shook her head. 'No, I'm not eager. I can't help thinking that the longer she's out there, the more people she will kill.' She paused. 'My family lives in Northside.'

His expression softened a little. 'Yes. There are many thousands in the slums, however. The odds of her taking one of your relatives is small, particularly if they stay indoors at night.'

'They do.' She sighed. 'I worry about Cery and my old friends, though.'

'I'm sure your thief friend can take care of himself.'

She nodded. 'You're probably right.' As they passed the gardens, she thought about her early morning encounter with Rothen. She felt another stab of guilt. She hadn't lied to him, as such. Akkarin had never asked her to learn black magic.

But she felt terrible when she considered how Rothen would feel if he learned the truth. He had done so much for her, and sometimes it seemed like all she'd ever brought him was trouble. Perhaps it was good that they had been separated.

And she had to admit, begrudgingly, Akkarin had done more than Rothen could have to ensure she had the best training. She would never have been much good at Warrior Skills if he hadn't pushed her. Now it looked like she would need to use those skills to fight the spies.

As they reached the residence and the door swung open, Akkarin paused and glanced upward. 'I believe Takan is waiting for us.' He moved inside and approached the wine cabinet. 'Go on up.'

As she climbed the stairs she thought back to his comment at the Arena. Had there been a hint of pride in his voice? Was he actually pleased with her as a novice? The idea was strangely appealing. Perhaps she really had earned the title: the High Lord's favorite.

Her. The slum girl.

She slowed her step. Thinking back, she could not remember him ever expressing disdain or distaste about her origins. He had been threatening, manipulative and cruel, but he had never once reminded her that she had come from the poorest part of the city.

But then, how could he look down on another person? she suddenly thought. He was a slave once.

The ship was from the Elyne King's fleet and was larger than the Vindo vessels Dannyl had travelled in before. Made solely to transport important personages rather than cargo, there was space inside for several small but luxurious rooms. Though Dannyl had managed to sleep for most of the day, he found it difficult to stop yawning as he rose, washed and dressed. A servant brought him a plate of roast harrel and some elaborately prepared vegetables. He felt better after eating, and a cup of sumi helped wake him up completely.

Through the ship's small windows he could see the sails of the other vessels glowing orange in the light of the setting sun. He left his room, then made his way down a long corridor to Farand's cell.

It wasn't a cell, really. Though it was the smallest and plainest room in the ship, it was comfortably furnished. Dannyl knocked on the door. A short magician with a round face greeted him.

'Your turn then, Ambassador,' Lord Barene said, obviously relieved that his shift was over. He stared at Dannyl, then shook his head, muttered something under his breath and left.

Farand was lying on the bed. He looked at Dannyl and smiled faintly. Two plates lay on a small table. From the harrel bones left on them, Dannyl guessed they'd had the same meal as he.

'How are you feeling, Farand?'

The young man yawned. 'Tired.'

Dannyl sat down in one of the cushioned chairs. He knew Farand wasn't sleeping too well. Neither would I, he thought, if I thought I might face death in a week.

He did not believe the Guild would execute Farand. A rogue magician hadn't been discovered for over a century, however, and he had to admit he had no idea what would happen. The hardest part was, he wanted to reassure Farand, but he couldn't. It would be cruel if he turned out to be wrong.

'What have you been doing?'

'Talking to Barene. Or he's been talking to me. About you.'

'Really?'

Farand sighed. 'Royend is telling everyone about you and your lover.'

Dannyl felt a chill. So it had started.

'I'm sorry,' Farand added.

Dannyl blinked in surprise. 'Don't be, Farand. It was part of the deception. A way to convince him to trust