The High Lord

As they approached one of the exits from Cery's rooms, Gol paused and looked back.

'Do you think you ought to tell the other Thieves about these magicians?'

Cery sighed. 'I don't know. I'm not sure if they'd believe me.'

'Perhaps later, when you got proof.'

'Perhaps.'

The big man climbed a ladder to a hatch in the roof. He unbolted it, then cautiously pushed it up. The sound of voices reached Cery's ears. Gol climbed through, then signalled that it was safe for Cery to follow.

He entered a small bol storeroom. Two men sat at a table, playing tiles. They nodded at Cery and Gol politely. Though they knew they were employed to guard one of the entrances to the Thieves' Road, they did not know it led to the lair of a Thief.

The following journey was short, but Cery stopped at a baker and a few other crafters' shops on the way. The owners were as oblivious to their customer's identity as the guards. Cery made a few subtle inquiries about whether they were happy with their arrangements with 'the Thief,' and all but one behaved favorably.

'Get someone to check what's up with the matmaker when we're done,' Cery said to Gol when they had descended into the underground passages again. 'He's not happy about something.'

Gol nodded. When they arrived at their destination, he stepped forward to haul open a heavy metal door. A thin man sat in the short corridor beyond.

'Ren. How's our guest?' Cery asked.

The man stood up. 'He's been pacing. Worried, I think.'

Cery frowned. 'Open the door, then.'

Ren stooped and grabbed a chain on the floor. He pulled and a vibration ran through the floor. The far wall slid sideways, revealing a luxurious room.

Takan stood a few paces away, the sound having warned him of their arrival. He looked tense and eager. Cery waited until the door had closed behind Gol before he spoke.

'What is it?'

The Sachakan let out a short breath. 'Akkarin has spoken to me. He has asked me to explain some things to you.'

Cery blinked in surprise, then gestured to the chairs.

'Let's sit, then. I've brought some food and wine.'

Takan moved to a guestroom chair and perched himself on the edge of the seat. Cery sat down opposite him, while Gol disappeared into the kitchen to find plates and glasses.

'You know that these murderers Akkarin employed you to find were Sachakan magicians,' Takan began. 'And you know that Akkarin and Sonea were exiled for using black magic.'

Cery nodded.

'The murderers were former slaves,' Takan explained, 'sent by their masters to spy on Kyralia and the Guild - and kill Akkarin if they had the chance. Their masters are powerful magicians known as the Ichani. They use black magic to draw magical strength from their slaves - or their victims. The people in my country call this higher magic, and have no law against its use.'

'This magic makes them stronger?' Cery asked. Though he knew all this from Savara, he must pretend it was all new.

'Yes. Akkarin learned black magic in my country. I returned to Kyralia with him, and he has been taking strength from me so he could fight the spies.'

'You were a slave?'

Takan nodded.

'You say these murderers - spies - were once slaves. Yet they used black magic, too.'

'They were taught the secret of higher magic so that they might survive long enough to gather information about Kyralia's defenses.'

Cery frowned. 'If they were free, why did they continue to do what their masters wanted?'

Takan looked down at the floor. 'Servitude is a hard habit to break, especially when you are born to it,' he said quietly. 'And the spies feared the Guild as much as they feared the Ichani. They saw only two choices: to hide in the enemy's land, or return to Sachaka. Until Akkarin and Sonea were so publicly exiled, most Sachakans believed the Guild still used higher magic. All previous spies had been killed. Sachaka seemed a safer place. The dangers there are familiar. But they knew the Ichani would kill them if they returned without completing their mission.'

Gol returned carrying wine, glasses, and a plate laden with meat-filled savory buns. The big man offered Takan a glass of wine, but the servant shook his head.

'The Ichani know the Guild do not use higher magic now,' Takan continued. 'They know they are stronger. Their leader, a man named Kariko, has been trying to unite them for years. Now he has succeeded. Akkarin contacted me this morning, and told me to tell you this: they plan to enter Kyralia in the next few days. You must warn the Guild.'

'And they'll believe me?' Cery asked dubiously.

'The message must be anonymous, but its recipient will know from the content who it is from. Akkarin has told me what it should contain.'

Cery nodded, then sat back in his chair and took a sip of the wine.

'How much does the Guild know?'

'All but this latest news. They do not believe any of it, but Akkarin hopes they will prepare in case it proves true.' Takan hesitated. 'You do not seem alarmed to learn that your country is about to face a war.'

Cery shrugged. 'Oh, I am. But I am not surprised. I had a feeling something big was about to happen.'

'You are not concerned?'

'Why? It is magicians' business.'

Takan's eyes widened. 'I wish, for your sake, that it was so. But when these Ichani have removed the Guild and the King, they will not leave ordinary people to continue their lives as if nothing happened. Those they do not enslave, they will kill.'

'They have to find us first.'

'They will collapse all your tunnels and tear down your houses. Your secret world will not survive.'

Cery smiled as he thought of Savara's suggestions for killing magicians.

'They won't find it as easy as they think,' he said darkly. 'Not if I have any say in it.'

Dannyl stepped out of the University and considered the busy courtyard. Midbreak had just begun, and the grounds were full of novices enjoying the summer warmth. He decided to follow their example and take a stroll through the gardens.

As he entered the shady walkways, he considered his interview with Lord Sarrin. Now that the fate of the rebels had been decided, and Rothen had left for Sachaka, Dannyl had very little to do, so he had volunteered to help in the construction of the new Lookout. The Head of Alchemists had been surprised by Dannyl's proposal, as if he had forgotten all about the project.

'The Lookout. Yes. Of course,' Sarrin had said distractedly. 'It'll keep us occupied, unless... but then it won't matter. Yes,' he repeated, in a firmer tone. 'You may ask Lord Davin how you may assist.'

On the way out of the University, Dannyl had glimpsed Lord Balkan leaving the Administrator's office. The Warrior had looked worried. That was to be expected, but his manner suggested he had something new on his mind.

I wish I knew what was going on, Dannyl thought. He looked around, noting the tense expressions of a group of novices gathered together nearby. It looks like I'm not the only one.

He turned a corner and noted a lone novice sitting on a garden seat. The boy was older, probably a fifth year, and very thin and sickly. He looked strangely familiar.

Dannyl stopped as he realized this was no boy. It was Farand. He stepped off the path and approached the garden seat.

'Farand.'

The young man looked up, then smiled self-consciously.

'Ambassador.'