The Traitor Queen

And suddenly she knew what she would do next. If he would not come home, she would not either. She would follow him. She would do all she could to protect him.

“So you consider yourself a Traitor now.” She nodded. “Then there is something you need to know.” She reached into her pocket, drew out one of the gemstones and held it out.

He took it, and examined it closely. After a moment his eyes widened.

“I suspected it was possible,” he breathed.

As he stared at the stone in avid fascination, Sonea felt a bittersweet joy and pride. Here he was, her son, understanding a magic that no Guild magician had ever explored before. And he loves it.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

She gestured around them. “In the soil and sand. There’s one in the spring, too, keeping it clean. I suspect they’re all over the wastes. You can detect them, if you know what you’re looking for and you’re a black magician.”

Lorkin’s mouth opened and he turned to look at the dry, lifeless land. “Are you saying...?”

“Yes. The wasteland ought to have recovered centuries ago, but it didn’t because of the Traitors.” She touched his arm. “Are you sure you want to leave the Guild to join these people? A people this ruthless? You can still help them to bring about the end of the Ashaki without changing your loyalties.”

He looked down at the gem and frowned. Then he closed his fingers around it and nodded. “I am sure. They aren’t perfect,” his mouth twisted with wry humour, “but they are better than the Ashaki.”

Turning to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I love you, Mother. I have no intention of dying in this war. I will return to the Guild. Queen Zarala gave me stone-making knowledge so that I could pass it on, and I will do that if the Guild wants it. You’ll see me again.”

Then he hugged her tightly. She held him close, and it took all her will not to resist as he pulled away. He smiled once, then turned and strode back toward the Traitors.

Sonea blinked away tears, sighed and followed.

* * *

Stepping out of the Magicians’ Quarters into the bright sunlight, Lilia squinted and set off toward the University. More novices were about than usual for this time of morning, she noted. Most were hanging around the University entrance. As she neared them and stepped into the building’s shadow, she realised that all of their faces had turned toward her.

A chill ran down her spine and she slowed.

She recognised a few of them as friends of Bokkin. Two stepped aside. At first she assumed it was to let her through, but a familiar thug filled the gap. He grinned at her as she neared the steps.

“What’s you doing coming in here, Lilia?” he asked. “The Lookout is that way.” He pointed up the hill.

A few of the novices snickered. They drew closer together. She would have to push her way through them or go around to the front of the University.

“We’re not going to let you in,” Bokkin said.

Lilia smothered a smile. Idiot. It’s so obvious what they’re doing, he didn’t need to say it aloud. And now they can’t pretend they weren’t doing anything wrong.

She climbed the first few steps and stopped.

“Are you sure?” she asked, meeting and holding the gaze of each novice. “Black Magician Kallen is inside, waiting to teach me all sorts of black magicky secrets. He might not be too happy with you if you stop me getting to his lesson on time.”

Some of the novices frowned and exchanged doubtful glances.

“Kallen can only get you to pretend to fight with black magic,” Bokkin said. “You can’t learn anything else. You haven’t even graduated yet.”

“I heard you weren’t going to be graduating,” one of the girls near Bokkin added. “People say they won’t let you. You’ll be a novice forever.”

Lilia shrugged. “I’ll be graduating next year. I have more to learn than the average novice.” To make sure the hint sank in, she reached into her robe and pulled out the small, slim knife she had purchased at Kallen’s recommendation. She had wondered why he had insisted she needed one when she wasn’t supposed to use black magic, and suspected it was to be sure he got to approve her choice. He’d told her to buy something plain but good quality. Something more refined than a kitchen knife, but nothing as distastefully flashy as the knives the Sachakans wore. She’d met some knife-makers and chosen an elegant, slim knife with a blade that folded neatly into and out of an ebony and silver handle – an action she had practised doing one-handed.

An action she used now. She resisted a laugh as several of the novices drew in sharp breaths. But she couldn’t just stand there waving a knife around. If a magician saw her she’d be in as much trouble as the other novices. Maybe more. Inside her bag, among the books and study notes, was a pachi fruit. Jonna had put it in there when it had been clear Lilia would not have time to eat all of her morning meal.

Taking it out, Lilia began to cut slices from the fruit and eat them.

“Kallen’s going to come and find out what’s holding me up,” she told them between chews. “I wouldn’t want to b—”

“What’s going on here?” a new voice demanded. Looking up, Lilia saw the head of a magician appear behind the novices. “Find somewhere else to gather and stop blocking the doors.”

At once the novices scattered, the closest ones to the magician sketching a hasty bow. Bokkin was the only one looking disappointed, Lilia noted. The rest looked relieved. He sneered at her as she walked up the stairs, past him. The magician was one she remembered from second year, a middle-aged Alchemist.

“Good morning, Lord Jotin,” she said, bowing.

“Lady Lilia.” He nodded, then glanced about to make sure the novices weren’t going to return before heading back down the corridor. Lilia continued eating the pachi fruit as she made her way to the room Kallen held his lessons in, putting all thought of Bokkin behind her. At some point she would pose Anyi’s question to Kallen, and she had to consider how best to do it. She paused to wipe the knife and gather her thoughts, before pushing through the door into the room.

“Good morning Lady Lilia,” Kallen said, his lips widening into a half-smile as she entered.

“Black Magician Kallen.” She bowed and sat down, then opened her mouth to speak but stopped as she noticed the items on the table. A ceramic bowl stood next to some of the hollow tubes of glass Alchemists used when they needed to shape vessels and pipes to a particular use.

“Today I will teach you how to make blood gems,” Kallen told her.

She felt a thrill go through her. This was a part of black magic that most people regarded as acceptable and safe. Kallen picked up a tube and indicated that she should do the same.

“The process is easiest communicated mind to mind. The former High Lord discovered it by examining an ancient blood ring. I’ve seen and examined this ring, and I have to say I’m glad I didn’t have to work that riddle out for myself. First, melt some glass, keeping it spinning in the air to maintain the shape.”

She put aside Anyi’s question until later and followed his instructions. When they both held revolving spheres of molten glass in the air, he told her to take his hand and focus on his thoughts. She watched him shape his magic and impose his will on the glass, somehow altering its structure, then letting it cool. Then he watched her attempt the same on her piece.

They repeated this a few times, re-melting and shaping the glass, before he felt she was adept enough to try adding blood to the glass. To her surprise, this did nothing more than imprint an identity on it.

“The blood gem only works when someone is touching it,” he told her. “Do you understand the difference between how it works for the one who provided the blood, and the one who touches the gem?”

“The creator can see what the wearer sees, even if he doesn’t want to. The wearer can’t see what the creator sees but can receive mental communications without anyone else hearing them.”

“Yes, but the gem conveys not only what the wearer sees, but their thoughts. Unless the wearer is carrying a blocking stone.”