The Traitor Queen

Sonea felt her stomach sink. No matter how many times she heard it spoken, the thought of Lorkin in a dank cell made her heart shrivel.

The hall had grown quiet. Funny, I expected there to be protests and anger. I think they’re mostly too shocked to speak, though I’m not sure whether they’re more appalled at the audacity of Amakira daring to imprison a Guild magician, or at the possibility this might lead to another conflict with Sachaka.

“The king has approved our request to send a negotiator to seek Lorkin’s release,” Osen continued. “We chose our negotiator carefully, considering who might have the greatest influence on the Sachakan king. The Sachakan prejudice against magicians who do not know black magic narrowed our choices.” Osen turned to look up at the Higher Magicians and held out his arm toward Sonea as if offering her a hand out of a carriage. “We chose Black Magician Sonea.”

She felt her skin prickle and her face heat as hundreds of gazes shifted to her. A murmur of voices filled the hall. Resisting an urge to look down and away, she stared back at the assembled magicians, heart beating a little too fast. What will they do?

Osen’s outstretched hand beckoned. Swallowing a sigh, she rose and started to descend the steep stairs to the Front.

“But the advantage in sending a black magician will not count unless that black magician is as powerful as we can make her,” Osen continued. As Sonea reached his side, he glanced at her once then turned to face the assembly. “The permission of the king has been granted for Black Magician Sonea to gather strength for this mission. We call for volunteers to give their power to this cause.”

The hum of voices that had been gathering now grew louder, swelled, then diminished again. Osen, judging their mood, raised his arms and the room fell into a restless quiet.

“This is the first time such permission has been granted, and thankfully not for the reason we have long feared. We have learned, in the last twenty years, that black magic need not involve barbaric rituals and unpleasant bloodletting. Though this fact is taught to our novices and such reassurances given to all else, there may be some for whom this is not clear. I call upon Black Magician Sonea to explain.”

Sonea drew in a deep breath and worked magic into the air before her to amplify her voice.

“Sachakan magicians cut the skins of their slaves because their slaves are not magicians and can’t offer up their power. They do the same to their victims in war because their victims are hardly going to offer up their power willingly. The ritual of higher magic in our past was a symbolic gesture of an apprentice’s submission to his master, and no longer relevant.”

She managed a smile, though she suspected it would look more grim than reassuring. “I only require a magician to draw and send power to me so I can take it and store it. That is all. The giver need do nothing more than a trick taught to every novice in their first year of University.” She looked around the hall. That’s really all the explanation it needs, she thought, but as Osen began to turn away from her she thought of something else.

“It seems only a small thing to ask of each of you,” she said. “A day’s strength. But if it leads to the freeing of my son you... at the least you’ll have my own and my son’s heartfelt gratitude.”

Osen nodded. “And you’ll have ensured the safety of a member of the Guild, a citizen of Kyralia and the Allied Lands, while securing ongoing peace with Sachaka. Which is no small thing at all.” He turned to face the tiered seats. “We will begin with the Higher Magicians.”

Sonea felt her heart skip as High Lord Balkan rose and descended from the tiered seats, followed by several other Higher Magicians. As Balkan approached, a voice called his name from the side of the hall. All turned to see that King’s Advisers had come down from the highest row.

“Would you permit me to be the first,” the adviser asked Balkan. The High Lord smiled and stepped aside, gesturing to Sonea.

“The king sends his best wishes,” Glarrin told her. He held out his hands to her.

Taking them, she nodded. “Please convey my thanks in return, Adviser.” She felt her skin tingle as he sent power to her. Drawing it inward, she felt a slight sensation that told her she now held more magic than her natural limit, but when he was done she could not judge how much power he had given her.

Glarrin stepped away, bowing slightly toward Balkan. Sonea looked up at the tall Guild leader. He regarded her with a familiar slightly surprised expression. As if he has as much trouble thinking of me as a Higher Magician as I do of him being High Lord. Though Balkan is a competent leader, only Akkarin will ever fit the title in my mind.

She took his hands and power, and slowly the rest of the Higher Magicians took their turn. All but Kallen. Osen had decided that a few magicians should still retain their full strength at the end of the meeting. When the last of the Higher Magicians stepped away, Sonea turned to face the hall.

And felt her heart stop.

All of the seats were empty. Every magician was standing in the centre of the hall, waiting. Well, it’s possible that those who don’t intend to volunteer have slipped out already, she told herself. But the crowd that waited was too large for many to have decided not to participate.

She realised she had stopped breathing, and heard a gasp escape her mouth as the first magician stepped forward.

Regin. His eyes brightened with unexpected humour as he reached out to take her hands.

“You really don’t know how much people respect you, do you?” he murmured as he sent her magic.

“Respect me?” She shook her head. “They’re not doing this for me. They’re doing it for a fellow magician and Kyralia.”

“That as well,” he admitted. “But it’s not the only reason.”

He gave her a lot of power. At least it seemed that way. She watched him walk away, looking for indications of physical weariness and worried that he would be tired at the start of their journey that night, but the next magician stepped forward and she had to turn away.

And then the next, and the next. Healers, Warriors, Alchemists. Men and women. Old and young. Magicians from the Houses and all other classes. They all spoke a few words, wishing her luck, expressing their hopes that Lorkin had been treated well and would be released, even warning her to watch out for Ichani when crossing the wasteland, and urging her to come home safely. Overwhelmed and surprised, she struggled at times to appear calm and dignified. At one point she felt a wave of sadness as she suddenly remembered another time, standing in this hall while magicians filed past. Then, they had been tearing her robes and those of Akkarin as they spoke ritual words of banishment.

Because we learned black magic in order to defend Kyralia. How much things have changed.

When finally a magician moved away and she found there were no more waiting, she felt a great relief and weariness. She nearly laughed aloud at that. This taking of power was supposed to make her stronger, not tired. She focused on the power within her, detecting that a glow of magic was escaping from her control. Remembering Akkarin’s instruction, she strengthened the barrier of influence lying at her skin, and felt the leakage stop. Then she considered the power within.

Aside from knowing her strength had been boosted, the only way she could guess at how strong she’d become was to add up the number of magicians who had given her magic. She wasn’t even sure how powerful the average Guild magician was. I haven’t held this much power since the Ichani Invasion, when the poor people offered their strength in preparation for the battle ahead.

Osen was still standing beside her. The hall was empty but for him, Regin and Rothen. A gong rang out, indicating the end of the Meet despite most of the magicians not being present to hear it.

“What time is it?” she found herself asking.

Osen considered. “I believe the University gong rang a short while ago.”

She looked at him in surprise. “That late?” She looked at Regin. “It’s nearly time to load up the carriage.”

“You have a few hours still.” Osen smiled. “You should both eat a good meal before you go.”

Sonea felt her stomach knot. “I’m not sure I can.”

“That’ll disappoint everyone.”