The High Lord

She was right, of course. Rising from the bed, Dannyl straightened his shoulders and readied himself to face whoever was knocking at the door.

13 The Murderess

As Sonea entered the underground room, she noted the objects on the table. A dish contained some pieces of broken glass. Beside it was a broken silver fork, a bowl and a cloth. Next to these lay the wooden box that contained Akkarin's knife.

For two weeks she had been practicing black magic. She had gained in skill and could now take a lot of power quickly, or a little power through the tiniest pinprick. She had drawn energy from small animals, plants and even water. The objects on the table were different tonight, and she paused to wonder what Akkarin intended to teach her next.

'Good evening, Sonea.'

She looked up. Akkarin was leaning over the chest. It was open, revealing several old books. He was examining one of them. She bowed.

'Good evening, High Lord.'

He closed the book, then walked across the room and set it beside the other objects on the table.

'Did you finish the records of the Sachakan war?'

'Nearly. It's hard to believe the Guild managed to lose so much of its history.'

'They didn't lose it,' he corrected. 'They purged it. Those history books not destroyed were rewritten so there was no mention of higher magic.'

Sonea shook her head. When she considered how much effort the Guild had once spent getting rid of all mention of black magic, she understood why Akkarin did not want to risk telling the present Guild the truth about his past. Yet still she could not imagine Lorlen and the Higher Magicians reacting so blindly to black magic if they knew the reason Akkarin had learned it, or if they understood the threat of the Ichani.

It's me they would condemn, she thought suddenly, because I chose to learn it.

'Tonight I am going to show you how to make blood gems,' Akkarin told her.

Blood gems? Her heart skipped as she realized what he was referring to. She would be making a gem like the one in the tooth of the spy, and in Lorlen's ring.

'A blood gem allows a magician to see and hear whatever the wearer sees and hears - and thinks,' Akkarin told her. 'If the wearer cannot see, neither can the maker. The gem also focuses mind communication on its maker, so that no other can hear conversations between maker and wearer.

'It has limitations, however,' he warned. 'The maker is constantly connected to the gem. A part of the maker's mind is always receiving images and thoughts from the wearer, and this can be quite a distraction. After a while you learn to block it out.

'Once made, the connection to the maker cannot be broken unless the gem is destroyed. So if a gem is lost by its wearer, and another finds and wears it, the maker will have to put up with the distraction of an unwanted mind connected to his own.' He smiled faintly. 'Takan told me a story once of an Ichani who had staked a slave out to be eaten alive by wild limek, and put a gem on the man so he could watch. One of the animals ate the gem, and the Ichani spent several days driven to distraction by its thoughts.'

His smile faded then, and his gaze became distant. 'But the Ichani are skilled at turning magic to cruel uses. Dakova once made a gem out of a man's blood, then made the man watch as his brother was tortured.' He grimaced. 'Fortunately, glass blood gems are easy to destroy. The brother managed to smash the gem.'

He rubbed his forehead and frowned. 'Because this connection to another mind can be distracting, it is not a good idea to make too many blood gems. I have three, at the moment. Do you know who carries them?'

Sonea nodded. 'Lorlen.'

'Yes.'

'And... Takan?' She frowned. 'He doesn't wear a ring, though.'

'No, he doesn't. Takan's gem is hidden.'

'Who has the third?'

'A friend in a useful place.'

She shrugged. 'I don't think I could ever guess. Why Lorlen?'

Akkarin's eyebrows rose at the question. 'I needed to keep an eye on him. Rothen would never have done anything to cause you harm. Lorlen, however, would sacrifice you if it meant saving the Guild.'

Sacrifice me? But of course he would. She shivered. I probably would too, if I were in his position. Knowing this, she wished even more that Akkarin could tell Lorlen the truth.

'He has proven very useful, however,' Akkarin added. 'He is in contact with the Captain in the Guard who is investigating the murders. I have been able to estimate how strong each of the spies is based on the number of bodies that are found.'

'Does he know what the gem is?'

'He knows what it does.'

Poor Lorlen, she thought. He believes his friend has turned to evil magic, and knows that Akkarin can read his every thought. She frowned. But how hard is it for Akkarin to be always conscious of how his friend fears and disapproves of him?

Akkarin turned to face the table. 'Come here.'

As she moved to the other side of the table, Akkarin flipped open the lid of the box. He lifted out the knife and handed it to her.

'When I first saw Dakova make a blood gem, I thought there must be something magical in blood. It wasn't until years later that I discovered this wasn't true. The blood merely imprints the maker's identity on the glass.'

'You learned to make them from the books?'

'No. A great part of the magic I learned by studying an ancient example I had come across during the first year of my research. I didn't know what it was at the time, but later I borrowed it for a while to study. Though its maker was long dead, and it no longer worked, enough magic was still imprinted in the glass for me to gain a sense of how it functioned.'

'Do you still have it?'

'No, I returned it to its owner. Unfortunately, he died soon after, and I don't know what happened to his collection of ancient jewelry.'

She nodded and looked down at the items on the table.

'Any living part of yourself can be used,' Akkarin told her. 'Hair works, but not well because most of it is dead. There is a Sachakan folk tale in which tears were used, but I suspect that is just a romantic fancy. You could cut out a piece of your flesh, but that wouldn't be pleasant or convenient. Blood is the easiest.' He tapped the bowl. 'You'll only need a few drops.'

Sonea looked at the bowl and then the blade. Akkarin watched her silently. She considered her left arm. Where should she cut? Turning over her hand she noticed an old, faint scar on her palm from when she had cut herself on a drainpipe as a child. She brought the tip of the knife over to touch her palm. To her surprise, she felt no pain as the blade sliced open her skin.

Then blood welled from the cut and a sharp ache began to nag at her senses. She let the blood drip into the bowl.

'Heal yourself,' Akkarin instructed. 'Always heal yourself without delay. Even half-healed cuts are a break in your barrier.'

She concentrated on the wound. The blood stopped flowing, then the edges of the cut slowly sealed together. Akkarin handed her the cloth, and she wiped the blood off her hand.