The High Lord

She was surprised by the anger in her voice. Lorlen stared at her in dismay, then looked at Akkarin.

'Stay.' Akkarin told her. 'There is no sense in us both going.'

Not if we're going to Sachaka, she thought. But perhaps, together, we might survive. She could help him strengthen himself. Alone, he would only grow weaker. She clung to this small hope and turned to face him.

'I made Takan a promise to take care of you. I intend to keep it.'

His eyes narrowed. 'Sonea—'

'Don't tell me I'll get in the way,' she said under her breath, conscious of the many witnesses. 'That didn't stop me before, and it won't now. I know where they're sending you. I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not.' Turning to the front, she raised her voice so all could hear.

'If you send High Lord Akkarin into exile, you must send me too. Then, when you come to your senses, he might still be alive and able to help you.'

The hall was silent. Lorlen stared at her, then looked up at the Higher Magicians. Sonea could see defeat and frustration in their faces.

'No, Sonea! Stay here.'

Sonea felt her stomach turn over at the voice. She forced herself to look across the room at Rothen.

'I'm sorry, Rothen,' she said, 'but I will not stay.'

Lorlen took a deep breath. 'Sonea, I can give you only one more chance. Do you accept this judgment?'

'No.'

'Then let it be known throughout the Allied Lands that Akkarin of family Delvon, House Velan, formerly High Lord of the Magicians' Guild, and Sonea, formerly the High Lord's novice, have been exiled for the crimes of learning, practicing and killing with black magic.'

He turned to Lord Balkan and said something in a voice too quiet to hear. Then he descended from his seat, strode into the circle of Warriors and stopped a step away from Akkarin. Reaching out, he grasped the black robe in both hands. Sonea heard the material rip.

'I cast you out, Akkarin. Do not enter my lands again.'

Akkarin stared at Lorlen, but did not speak. The Administrator turned away and approached Sonea. He met her eyes for a moment, then looked down, took hold of her sleeve and ripped it.

'I cast you out, Sonea. Do not enter my lands again.'

Turning on his heel, he strode away. Sonea looked down at the rip in her sleeve. It was small, only a finger- length long. A small gesture, but so final.

The Higher Magicians rose to their feet and began to descend from the tiers of seats. Sonea's heart sank as Lord Balkan stepped into the circle and approached Akkarin. As he tore the black robes and spoke the ritual words, the rest of the Higher Magicians formed a line behind him, and she realized they were waiting their turn.

As Balkan approached she forced herself to watch as the Warrior tore her robe and spoke the ritual words. It took all her determination, but she managed to meet his gaze, and then those of each of the magicians who followed.

When the Higher Magicians had all performed the ritual, Sonea sighed with relief. The rest of the Guild rose from their seats. Instead of walking out of the Guildhall doors, they began to approach Akkarin one by one.

It looked as if she would have to endure this ceremony of rejection many, many more times.

The realization unsettled her. It took all her will to face them. She kept still as magicians who had taught her stopped to tear her robes, their expressions disapproving or disappointed. Lady Tya's ritual words were barely audible, and she quickly hurried away. Lord Yikmo gazed at her searchingly, then shook his head sadly. At last there were only a few magicians left. She looked up as they entered the circle, and felt her stomach twist.

Rothen and Dannyl.

Her former guardian approached Akkarin slowly. He stared at Akkarin, his eyes burning with anger, then Akkarin's lips moved. She could not quite hear what he said, but the fire in Rothen's eyes died. Rothen murmured a reply and Akkarin nodded once. Frowning, Rothen reached forward to tear Akkarin's robe. He spoke the ritual words, then kept his eyes on the floor as he took the few short steps to her.

She felt her throat constrict. Rothen's face looked haggard and deeply lined. He looked up at her and his pale blue eyes shimmered as tears gathered in them.

'Why, Sonea?' he whispered hoarsely.

She felt moisture spring into her eyes. She closed them tightly and swallowed hard.

'They send him to his death.'

'And you?'

'Two may survive where one would fail. The Guild has to find out the truth for itself. When it does, we'll return.'

He drew in a deep breath, then stepped forward and embraced her.

'Take care, Sonea.'

'I will, Rothen.'

She choked on his name. He stepped away. As he retreated, she realized he hadn't torn her robes. She felt a trickle of moisture run down her cheek and quickly wiped it away as Dannyl stepped in front of her.

'Sonea.'

She forced herself to look up at him. Dannyl met her gaze levelly.

'Sachakans, eh?'

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He pursed his lips. 'We'll have to look into it.' He patted her shoulder, then turned away. She watched him walk to Rothen's side.

Her attention was drawn away then as, one by one, the Warriors surrounding her and Akkarin stepped in to perform the ritual. When they were done, she looked around and discovered that the magicians had formed two lines leading to the Guildhall doors. Behind them stood the novices. She sighed with relief that they hadn't been included in the ritual. Facing Regin in that situation would have been... interesting.

The Higher Magicians formed a second circle around the Warrior guard, with Lorlen at the front. As the Administrator started walking toward the Guildhall doors, this double escort followed, and proceeded past the two lines of magicians out of the Guildhall to the University doors.

Outside the building was a circle of horses, held in position by grooms. Two horses waited in the center. Akkarin approached the central pair, Sonea following. As he swung up into the saddle of one, she hesitated and looked at the remaining horse dubiously. 'Are you doubting your decision?' Sonea turned to find Lord Osen standing beside her, holding the reins of his mount.

Sonea shook her head. 'No, it's just... I've never ridden before.' He glanced back at the crowd of magicians pouring out of the doors behind her, then turned his horse so it blocked them from view.

'Put your hand on the front of the saddle, and then put the toe of your left boot in here.' He took hold of her horse's stirrup and held it still. Sonea did as he said and, following his further instructions, she managed somehow to get into the saddle.

'Don't worry too much about directing him,' he told her. 'He'll follow the others.'

'Thank you, Lord Osen.'

He looked up at her and nodded once, then turned away and swung up onto his own mount.

From her new vantage point, she could see the crowd of magicians gathered outside the Guild. The Higher Magicians stood in a line along the bottom step of the University, except for Lord Balkan who had joined the guard of Warriors on the horses. Sonea looked for the King, but he was nowhere in sight.

Lorlen stepped forward and slowly approached Akkarin. He looked up and then shook his head.

'You have a second chance of sorts, Akkarin. Use it well.'

Akkarin regarded him for a moment. 'And you, my friend, though I fear you will face worse troubles than I do. We will speak again.'

Lorlen smiled crookedly. 'I'm sure we will.'

He moved away and returned to his place among the Higher Magicians, then nodded at Balkan. The Warrior nudged his horse into motion and the rest of the escort followed suit.

As her horse began to move, Sonea gripped the pommel of her saddle. She looked at Akkarin, but his eyes were fixed on the Guild Gates. When she had passed through the entrance, she cautiously turned to take one last