The Traitor Queen

As the morning sun rose higher and brighter, the colours of the wasteland began to bleach away. Sonea clasped her hands together around her knees, wistfully remembering how she had once been able to hug her knees to her chest. It had been a long time since she’d been that flexible. Life as a magician – and wearing full robes – tended to demand more dignified sitting. It was little losses like these that told her she was getting older.

Regin rose and moved to their packs, which were looking somewhat emptier than they’d been two evening ago when they’d arrived at the Traitors’ meeting place.

I followed the instructions strictly, she told herself. They’d made perfect sense. Regin agrees with me. We must be where we’re supposed to be.

And yet, no Traitors had appeared.

She looked to the right, where the mountains curved away to the south-east. When she and Akkarin had entered Sachaka twenty years before, they’d travelled that way. Across the slopes of the mountains with no supplies, no home and with Ichani hunting them. This time she and Regin had travelled northwest, still across the harsh mountainside, but with plenty of food, no Ichani to worry about and a Guild waiting to welcome them home.

Amazing the difference some basic necessities and not fearing for your life can make.

Still, the wasteland was a harsh place. Below, the rocky slopes plunged into dunes stretching off toward the horizon. The first day they’d waited here, they’d watched a sandstorm move across the land to the north, obscuring all in its path. They’d been worried that they would have to endure the storm, but it died out when it hit the northern mountains. Turning to the left, Sonea considered the peaks extending into the distance, each crouching behind the other, growing paler the further away they were.

Somewhere beyond them lies Sanctuary, the Traitors’ home. From what Lorkin says, they were much kinder captors than King Amakira.

Not that anybody had described what Lorkin’s imprisonment in the palace had been like. She was almost glad that she had not been able to read his mind through her blood gem. She swung from wanting to know to thinking perhaps it would be better if she never did. If he’d suffered, she was not sure what she would feel or want to do, but she was sure neither would be good.

He’s free now. Free and alive. I must take care that nothing I do changes that.

“Sonea.”

She dragged her eyes away from the view and turned to regard Regin. “Yes?”

He gestured to the bags. “Should we keep rationing?”

She nodded. He was asking more than that, she knew. He was asking if they would stay here or give up and return to the Fort soon. We could hunt for food, like Akkarin and I did. Memories rose of a meal gathered, cooked and eaten in a little hidden valley. She smiled as she remembered what else had happened in that place.

“At least we have plenty of water,” Regin said, turning to look at the spring. “And it’s clean now.”

She followed his gaze. The trickle of water seeped through a crack in the rocky ground and gathered in a small, smooth pool before brimming over into a tiny stream. The water had obviously been attracting animals. When they’d arrived they’d had to wash away accumulated bird droppings. The stream did not continue for long, swallowed up by a crevasse in the rocky ground.

If we hide, maybe birds will come to drink. We can catch and eat them.

Standing up, she walked to the pool and regarded it. Clearly the wasteland had some water, but even here, right by the spring, there was no life. She crouched beside it and dipped her hand in the pool. Concentrating, she sought the scattered sense of energy within water that came from ever-present tiny life forms in it.

Nothing.

She frowned. When they’d arrived she’d checked if the water was safe to drink. Despite the bird droppings, the water had been pure. Which was... odd.

Perhaps a Traitor came by just before we arrived and drew all the energy out. The smaller and less sophisticated a living thing was, the weaker the natural barrier against magical interference. Even trees could be drained of magic without their bark being cut, though the magic came slowly and there was never as much as in an animal or person.

Killing the little life forms makes the existing water safe to drink, but the fresh water should quickly add more tiny life forms. She reached up to the trickle that fed the pool. Cupping her hand to collect some water, she concentrated again.

There. Like tiny pinpoints of light.

She let the gathered water drop into the pool. There could be only one explanation. Something was killing off all life once it entered the pool.

Her stomach clenched in sudden apprehension. Was the pool poisoned? They had been drinking from it for a few days. What could kill off small life forms instantly but not affect people?

The bowl was smooth. It could have been shaped by time or man or magic. Reaching into the water again, she ran her hand slowly over the surface of the stone. She did not expect to sense anything. Detecting a poison within a body was more a matter of detecting its effect. Her fingers encountered a bump in the surface. She explored it with her fingertips, then sent her mind out.

Something tugged at her senses. She drew a little magic and let it seep from her fingers. It was drawn away immediately.

Her blood went cold.

Sitting up, she stared at the little bump in the bowl’s otherwise smooth surface. It is not a part of the rock. If it does what I think it does, it has been placed there to clean the water. But if it does what I think it does...

“Regin.”

She felt the coolness of his shadow on her back.

“Yes?”

“Could you get me a knife or something good for gouging?”

“Why not use magic? Oh... of course. You won’t want to use it up.”

He moved to the packs. While he was busy, she drew magic and used it to channel the trickle of water away from the pool. Then she emptied the pool with a sweep of force. The surface began to dry immediately and by the time Regin returned the bump was visible as a darker patch in the stone.

He held out a silver pen.

“Is that all we have?”

“I’m afraid so. Nobody expects magicians to need knives.”

Sonea sighed as she took the pen. “I suppose we asked for supplies to last a few days, not a picnic. Let’s hope this works.”

She began to dig around the bump with the tapered end of the pen. To her relief, whatever was keeping it in place was softer than stone – more like wax. Soon she had gouged out a channel around it. She wedged her fingertips around the bump and pulled. It would not budge, so she got to work again.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Yes.”

The lump shifted and Sonea tried to pull it free in vain. Gritting her teeth, she returned to digging waxy lumps from the pool.

“So. What are you doing?”

“Digging out this thing.”

“I can see that.” He sounded more amused than annoyed. “Why?”

The pen wasn’t narrow enough to fit between the hard bump and the edges of the hole it was crammed into. She seized it with her fingertips again. “It’s... strange... ah!” The bump – now a stone – came free. She held it up into the light, working the remains of wax off the surface.

Regin bent over to look at it. “Is it a crystal?”

She nodded. Smooth, flat areas reflected the sunlight. “A natural one. Though by that I only mean