The Traitor Queen

“They seem to be his preferred companions these days.” He turned and smiled at Achati with obvious approval. “But at least we have gained what we all desired: freedom for Lorkin in exchange for information.”

Information? Abruptly Dannyl remembered Lorkin’s promise to Achati. “I will answer the question your king most wants to ask me. I will tell you where the Traitors’ home is.”

Dannyl had not believed Lorkin would carry out his promise. He’d assumed Lorkin had some deception in mind. But what if he had given Achati the location of Sanctuary? What if Achati had turned Lorkin over to the king, not helped him escape? Were the Traitors lying about rescuing him in order to take revenge for Lorkin revealing their home? Or did they not know what Lorkin had done yet?

The king glanced at the spy. “I guess I should thank you for returning my spy to me, though he has hardly earned the title.” The king looked up at Dannyl and Tayend. “You may return to the Guild House, Ambassadors.”

Chapter 15 Into the Wasteland

The night air was surprisingly cold, considering how hot it was in the wasteland during the day. Lorkin pulled on the reins, yet again discouraging the hardy little mount he was riding from trying to catch up with the horse in front. She tossed her head in protest, and he heard the water sloshing about in the barrels lashed to her side.

They’d been riding since dusk the day before. The Traitors’ fake Ashaki had taken Lorkin to the edge of the wasteland in his carriage and left him with two male slaves from a nearby estate. The slaves had told Lorkin that they could only take him as far as the hills, where a group of Traitors would meet them. Though they had a spare horse to help carry water and food, they couldn’t carry enough to last them to the mountains and back without raising suspicion.

Looking over his shoulder to the east, Lorkin saw that the sky was beginning to brighten. He hadn’t slept in more than a day, and during the previous two nights he’d had to curl up on a cramped carriage seat. Though he could ease the weariness with Healing magic, the constant travel and fear of discovery was exhausting. Just to sit still for a while would have been welcome, but he doubted he’d be enjoying that for some time.

The hope that Tyvara would be among the Traitors waiting for him gave him a boost of energy every time he thought of her, which he did whenever weariness had him sagging in the saddle. Thought of her warm smile, the sound of her voice, the touch of her bare skin. Soon, he told himself.

He was going to be very disappointed if she wasn’t among them, but not surprised. Tyvara had been forbidden to leave the city for three years, as punishment for killing Riva. But at least she’s safe there, and if she isn’t with them the thought of her will sustain me until I do see her again, he reasoned.

The sound of teeth snapping brought his attention back to his mount again. He saw that she had crept close enough to the horse in front to attempt another bite, and quickly hauled on the reins. Mad, spiteful little beast, he thought, muttering a curse. I’m glad she doesn’t try this on humans.

Though she obediently slowed, the horse in front followed suit. Lorkin opened his mouth to warn the slave, then closed it again as the man gestured for silence. They came to a halt. Even Lorkin’s mount stilled and pricked up her ears.

Lorkin could hear nothing, but one of the slaves slid off his horse and ran up the side of a nearby dune. After crouching for a short time, a dark shape against the paler sand, he hurried back to them.

“A group of eight,” he murmured.

The other slave nodded, then turned to Lorkin. “Probably Traitors. Ichani travel alone, with only a few slaves.”

Lorkin nodded. His heart was racing. He began to dismount, but the slave frowned and shook his head. “Stay put. Just in case we’re wrong.”

The other slave mounted his horse again. They moved into the long, low shadow of a dune, which only half concealed them, but with the brightening sky behind them they would be a little harder to make out.

What if it is an Ichani? Lorkin felt the night’s chill seep into his clothing. What if it is more than one? We can run, but would we get far? Could I stop their attempts to hold us with magic for long enough to escape? I doubt much of Tyvara’s magic is left, and even if I had it all I couldn’t beat several Ichani.

Figures appeared in the valley between the dunes ahead. The glow of the sky had grown warmer, and now bathed the newcomers with gold. Though all wore trousers and tunics, it was easy to distinguish woman from man. Each wore a belt over their tunic, and on each belt was a sheath. Unlike the Ashaki’s blades, the knife handles were undecorated and the sheaths were straight, not curved. As Lorkin recognised the lead figure, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Savara.

She strode toward them, unhurried but purposeful. Looking past her, Lorkin searched for the face he most wanted to see, his pulse speeding even as he braced himself for disappointment. When his eyes found hers, he thought he must be mistaken. Then she smiled, and he felt his heart leap, and an intense longing to draw her into his arms and feel her body against his. He dismounted, as did the slaves, but forced himself to stay still and face the Traitors’ new queen.

“Gal. Tika. Right where you were supposed to be,” Savara said, smiling as she reached the slaves. She turned to Lorkin. “It is good to see you again, Lord Lorkin. We were worried we might have to break into the palace to get you. We haven’t had to do that in centuries.”

Placing a hand on his heart, he waited. She smiled sadly, then nodded.

“It is good to see you, too, your majesty” he told her. Still unsure of Traitor protocol when a monarch had died, he decided to err on the side of speaking plainly. “I was saddened to hear of Queen Zarala’s passing, but glad to hear of your election.”

She looked down. “She will be remembered.” Her lips pressed together, then she turned to the slaves. As she thanked them, Lorkin looked at Tyvara again and drank in the sight of her, resisting a wave of impatience. It feels like months since I last saw her.

The slaves mounted their horses again, one taking the reins of Lorkin’s horse, and set off toward the east. They disappeared around a dune, toward an orange sun that hinted at the coming daytime onslaught of heat.

“Now, we must travel as quickly as we can manage,” Savara said, turning back to the group and ushering him toward them with an outstretched arm. “Your mother awaits us in the mountains.”

He felt a twinge of apprehension and eagerness, but forgot both as Tyvara stepped forward to meet him. She was smiling broadly.

“I’m so relieved the king let you go. Savara said the king wouldn’t dare harm you, but that didn’t stop me worrying.” She took his hands. Stepping close, she kissed him quickly, but pulled away when he tried to draw her closer, her eyes flickering to the others and giving him a warning look that plainly said “not now”. He felt a petulant disappointment, but put it aside. She was here. That was enough for now.

“I’m not the only one who’s been let out,” he said.

She shrugged. “I have more important things to do than running the sewer. And I’m sure the punishment will resume once we’re done.”

As one the group turned and started in the direction they had come. Someone passed Lorkin a pack, murmuring that he’d find a water bottle inside. He shouldered it and looked across at Tyvara. She was frowning at him.

“What is it?”

She lowered her voice. “Was it bad, in the king’s prison?”

His stomach lurched at the question. Suddenly the lightness in his heart was gone, and weariness returned. He looked away.