The Traitor Queen

“I could tell you anything. How would you know it was the truth?”

The man smiled, but there was no humour in his eyes. He knows I am right. Meeting the man’s eyes, Lorkin felt a chill run down his spine. There was a sharpness to them. A patience that suggested he would enjoy the hours of interrogation to come. That he was just beginning. This was only the second day of many to come.

They hadn’t tried to read his mind yet. Something was holding them back. A reluctance to damage relations with the Allied Lands? But then why lock him up in the first place?

They can’t have dismissed the idea entirely. Eventually they would try it. Once they attempted and failed to read his mind, they would realise they had sacrificed good relations with the Allied Lands for no benefit. With restraint for the sake of diplomacy abandoned, nothing would stop them torturing him – but they would face the same problem: not knowing if what he said was true.

Perhaps they would verify his words in other ways. Perhaps they hoped imprisonment, discomfort and fear would drive him to give them permission to read his mind.

He almost wished they’d get it over and done with. He was tempted to offer a willing mind-read, to speed things up. Instead he thought of a range of ridiculous lies he could tell the interrogator. It would be fun, at least temporarily, to lead the man on for a while. But not yet, he told himself. It’s only the second day. You can hold out for much longer than this.

The interrogator’s companion appeared in the doorway carrying a bowl. Glancing at him, the Ashaki questioner smiled, then looked back at Lorkin.

“Tell us something about the Traitors – just one small thing – and we’ll give you something to eat.”

A delicious smell reached Lorkin’s nose. His stomach clenched then growled with hunger. He’d been given water that morning, which he’d sipped cautiously, but still no food since being brought down here. He had resisted using Healing magic to dull the growing hunger, not wanting to use the magic that Tyvara had given him. It couldn’t be replaced, and he might need it.

The smell of the food was strong and set his head spinning. He thought of the lies he’d considered telling them, and felt a strong impulse to speak rising within him. Osen had said he should avoid revealing that his mind could not be read for as long as possible. Leading the interrogator along a false path might delay that.

Don’t be ridiculous, he thought. It might distract him for a short while, but the more I test that man’s patience the sooner he’ll give up on persuading me to speak. Tyvara would expect me to have more willpower than this.

She also intended him to use the magic she’d given him to protect himself. It would never get him out of the prison, or stop an Ashaki torturing or killing him, but it could help him resist these less direct attacks on his determination to keep silent.

Closing his eyes, he drew a little magic and sent it out into his body to dull the gnawing in his stomach and stop his head from spinning.

When he opened his eyes, the interrogator was watching him closely. The man stared at Lorkin thoughtfully, then beckoned to his assistant. The pair of them, with a great display of relish, began to eat.

Chapter 5 Speculation and Secrets

The servant who had answered Sonea’s knock had told her Lord Regin was at a meeting with Black Magician Kallen. She had asked him to inform her when Regin returned, then retreated to her rooms for a much-needed cup of raka.

The wait was excruciating.

This is ridiculous. I chose him to be my assistant. I’ve worked with him before. But since he had agreed to travel with her to Sachaka she had begun to worry that she had chosen too quickly. He had all the right qualifications for the role: he was intelligent, a strong magician, a well-trained Warrior, adept at political manoeuvring, and fiercely loyal to the Guild and Kyralia.

But will we get along?

Everything had been fine between them when he had helped her in the hunt for Lorandra. He’d been remarkably easy to work with. But this time they would be together day and night, week after week, with no respite from each other.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Once we get to the Guild House in Arvice we’ll have two other magicians to talk to as well as the Elyne Ambassador.

In the meantime, they would be stuck with each other’s company. Though she did not distrust Regin as she had at the beginning of the hunt for Lorandra, it was impossible for her to forget the pain and humiliation he had subjected her to as a novice.

That is in the past. He has been nothing but respectful and supportive these last twenty years. He even apologised, during the Ichani Invasion. Am I unable to accept apologies? It is silly of me to carry around this resentment.

A knock at the main door made her jump, even though she was expecting it. She put down her cup and rose, walking to the door as she willed it open with magic. Regin’s servant bowed.

“Lord Regin is home, and awaits your visit.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Stepping past him, she closed the door and headed down the corridor to Regin’s rooms. As she reached his door she paused to take a deep breath before knocking. The door opened. Regin inclined his head.

“Black Magician Sonea,” he said. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you, Lord Regin,” she replied.

She moved inside. The room was sparsely furnished, and most of the contents looked new. She saw nothing that appeared long-treasured or personal. Regin gestured to a chair.

“Would you like to sit down?”

Sonea regarded the chair and shook her head. “I better not take up too much of your time, considering what I have to tell you.” She met his gaze. He was watching her with an intense stillness. An expectation. Suddenly the lack of personal belongings made sense: he’d known he might be leaving soon so why bring them here? “We’ll be leaving tomorrow night,” she told him.

He let out a small breath, looked away and nodded. She caught a fleeting expression and felt a pang of guilt. I haven’t seen him show apprehension since the Invasion.

“If that is too soon, or you feel that your obligations are here, it is not too late to change your mind,” she told him, keeping her tone formal to avoid sounding like she was questioning his determination or any suggestion she might consider changing his mind cowardly.

He shook his head. “It is not too soon. In fact, the timing is perfect. I have no other obligations than to do my job, which is to be useful to the Guild and Kyralia. It’s rather nice to actually be useful for once. This is the sort of task we Warriors are trained for, and yet most of the time we strive not to be needed.”

Sonea looked away and felt a pang of sympathy at the slight hint of bitterness in his voice. No other obligations. He really has cast off all familial ties. The ruthlessness of his revenge on his wife for her numerous adulterous affairs had entertained the Guild gossips for weeks. He’d given his two properties to his daughters, both married to respectable and wealthy men, and requested rooms in the Guild. This had left his wife homeless and with no money, forcing her to live with her family.

Rumour was that she had attempted to kill herself after Regin had sent her last lover away. Her lover, on the other hand, had simply found another wealthy woman to seduce. Despite this and the shame of being returned to her family like faulty goods, Wynina had made no further suicide attempts. Sonea didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or not. Sometimes she wondered if being married to Regin had driven the woman to such extremes.

Perhaps he is well-behaved in public, but goes back to being the nasty brat he was as a novice in private.