The Traitor Queen

“It wasn’t fun,” he replied, shrugging. Should I tell her about the slave girl? What will she think of me, for helping the girl die? Maybe if the girl hadn’t been a Traitor... no, I don’t think that would make much difference. Still, Tyvara must have had to make some difficult choices as a spy. He drew in a deep breath. “You must have been through worse, as a slave.”

She said nothing. He made himself look up at her. She met his gaze reluctantly, then her eyes dropped to the ground.

“Would that be a problem for you, if I had?” she asked.

It was an odd way to phrase her answer, but as her meaning came to him he felt both dismay and affection.

“No,” he said. “I’m... I know what... what pretending to be a slave would have involved. It’s not like you had a choice.”

“But I did have a choice – whether to be a spy or not.”

“For the good of your people. And to help others.” Whereas there was nothing noble about me helping the slave girl die. And yet he hadn’t chosen to be put in that situation.

“Enough talking,” Savara said, glancing back at Lorkin and Tyvara. “The Ichani were far away last time we checked, but they can be unpredictable. We should travel in silence.”

Tyvara frowned and bit her lip. As they strode onward, she glanced at him from time to time. On each occasion, he only caught sight of her expression briefly, since her back was to the rising sun. Clearly she wanted to say something to him. Frustrated by the necessity for silence, he concentrated until he could detect her presence. He imagined he could hear her thoughts like a buzz at the edge of his senses, not quite loud or clear enough to be audible.

Finally he could not stand it any more. He moved closer and grabbed her hand.

—What is it? What is bothering you?

She looked surprised, then smiled and squeezed his hand.

—You know where we’re going?

—To the mountains. To meet my mother. I’m assuming to discuss trade or an alliance.

—Yes.

She looked at him questioningly, and he heard, somehow, faint words that she perhaps hadn’t intended to send to him.

What will he do then?

He frowned. He’d been putting off asking himself the same question. What would he do once negotiations were over? Go back to Kyralia with his mother? Stay in Sachaka with Tyvara? The answer was even more important if the negotiations failed to bring about any kind of agreement between the Allied Lands and the Traitors.

The Guild would want him to come home. His mother would want him to come home. But that might mean he’d never see Tyvara again.

What does he want? came Tyvara’s badly hidden thought.

—I want to be with you, he told her.

She blinked in surprise and turned to stare at him. He sensed puzzlement, and a little embarrassment. Her grip loosened as if she was about to pull away. Then it tightened again,

—Will the Guild let you stay with us?

—They won’t like it, but they’ll have to accept it.

She nodded and looked way, pulling her hand free. He focused closely on her, trying to judge her expression, and heard words at the very edge of his senses again.

He’ll change his mind once he knows we’re about to go to war.

Lorkin felt his muscles go rigid with shock and nearly stumbled. He shook his head. He must have imagined it. It was not possible to hear someone else’s thoughts without touching them. Unless that person had deliberately sent them. Looking around, he saw that none of the other Traitors looked alarmed or were watching him, as they would have been if they’d known Tyvara had revealed their plans to him.

No. I must have imagined it. After all, he’d seen hints in Sanctuary that the Traitors might be planning to attack the Ashaki. His mind was merely pointing out, in an unexpected way, that war would make his choice much more difficult. Tyvara had to be wondering if he wanted to avoid being caught up in a war. Of course I would. People die in wars. Tyvara might die. Unless... could I find a reason to take her to Kyralia with me? Perhaps I could persuade Savara that the Allied Lands need a Traitor Ambassador. But would Tyvara go? I doubt it.

So now he had to decide whether he’d stay with Tyvara or go to Kyralia and pass on stone-making knowledge, how to tell his mother that he’d learned black magic, whether to tell Tyvara about the poisoned slave girl, and what he’d do if the Traitors went to war. Fortunately he had hours of trudging through the wasteland to the mountains ahead of him. Plenty of time to think.

* * *

Though it was still early spring, buds on the trees within the Guild gardens were already bursting open and the scent hinted at warmer days to come. Lilia breathed it in, enjoying a brief moment of peace and promise. She was alive, not in prison, accepted by the Guild, and Cery, Gol and Anyi were still safe and undiscovered.

Of course, the moment could not last long. Her friends were not all that safe, the Guild’s acceptance of her involved conditions that would restrict her for the rest of her life, and she was heading for another lesson with Black Magician Kallen. But her mood soured sooner than usual as she saw a trio of novices standing outside the Novice’s Quarters, watching her. One was Bokkin.

She spared them the briefest of glances, but though she kept her gaze on the path ahead she paid attention to their shadows in the corner of her eye. For good measure, she threw up a weak shield against any pranks.

Nothing happened, though she was so alert for trouble that she didn’t notice, at first, that no other novices were waiting with Kallen by the Arena. He always wore the same slightly distracted frown, yet it was a little deeper than usual. And his gaze was a little more alert.

“Black Magician Kallen,” she said, bowing as she reached him.

“Lady Lilia,” Kallen said. “Today’s lesson will be held within the University.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she had to smother the urge to cheer.

“So... no fighting practice today?”

“No.”

He indicated that she should walk beside him and started toward the University. Bokkin, she saw with relief, was gone. She considered whether to ask Kallen what she’d be learning, but experience had taught her that if he didn’t offer information she was not likely to get useful answers. Once they were inside, she heard him draw in a deep breath, then sigh. Sneaking a quick glance, she noted that his mouth was pressed into a thin line.

He’s not happy about something, she thought. Well, more unhappy than he usually is, anyway.

He led her through to the inner passages of the building and into one of the small rooms reserved for private lessons. Indicating she should take one of the two chairs, he sat on the other and regarded her across the sole table.

“The Guild has decided it is time you learned to use black magic.”

She felt a jolt of fear and guilt, but they quickly faded into amusement. “But I already know how to use black magic.”

“You know how it is used,” he corrected. “Aside from your single experiment, you have not consciously and deliberately used it, and you’ve never needed to store power. There are also other tasks that black magicians are required to perform that do not involve the acquisition of magic.”

“Like?”

“Reading minds. Making blood rings.”

Lilia’s heartbeat quickened. She had assumed she wouldn’t be taught either skill until she had graduated and taken up the official role of black magician.