Disclaimer: I do not own these characters – they belong to Trudi Canavan.
AftermathRothen tip-toed into the room and nodded to the Healer sitting quietly in the corner.
"Any change?" he asked and frowned when the Healer shook her head.
Sonea was lying, unmoving, in the bed, just as she had done for the past three weeks. The only time she moved, was when the Healer on duty, sat her up and spooned nourishment into her mouth. Sonea's mouth opened at the touch of the spoon and she swallowed when her mouth was full, but that was the extent of it. After feeding, she was placed back on her pillows and left alone to sleep.
Rothen sat in the chair by the bed and took her unresponsive hand. He remembered how they had found her, half lying, half-crouching, on the ground, clutching Akkarin's lifeless body, surrounded by the dead bodies of the Sachakans. It had taken a real effort to get her to let go of Akkarin, her hands were so tightly gripping him, but through it all, her eyes remained closed and there was no response when they called her name.
They had taken her to the Healers' Quarters and the best minds left in the Guild had tried to find some way of waking her up, but with no success. Lady Vinara had determined that Sonea had no physical injuries. Her power was severely depleted, but apart from that, there was no reason why she should not wake up. Over the next few days, the Healers tried everything they knew, but nothing worked. In the end, they had allowed her to go back to Rothen's spare room, where a Healer watched over her day and night.
Rothen sighed. No one knew how long she would remain in this state. Some magicians were of the opinion that she would stay like this until she died, others thought she might wake at any moment. The King had come to see her, a few days after the battle at the Guild and had laid a jewel on the bed in recognition of her service to Guild and Kingdom.
The King had also gone to see Akkarin, as he lay in state, dressed once again in the High Lord's silken robes. Immediately after Akkarin's death, the King had issued a decree which stated that the trial and conviction of the High Lord and his Novice, together with their exile had been a ploy to lull their enemies into thinking the Guild was defenceless. In fact both of them had been following the King's plan to destroy their enemies.
I wonder how many people believe that! Rothen thought. Still, it probably made the King feel better.
It had been reported that the King had spent a long time alone with the body of Akkarin and his eyes were red when he emerged. And so they should be, Rothen was still angry. The King sent a man and a young woman into an exile which he thought would end in their deaths because he was too proud to listen to the truth or trust the word of an honourable man.
But I was just the same, Rothen admitted to himself. I believed Akkarin was evil and had corrupted an innocent young girl.
Akkarin had had a grand funeral a week after his death. A special area of the old cemetery had been opened up and a grave dug in a prominent spot. Dressed in his High Lord's robes, the King's jewel about his neck, Akkarin had been laid in a fine, oak coffin which was then placed in the grave and covered with a marble gravestone carved with his name and titles. Underneath, an inscription telling of his bravery and sacrifice had been carved, so that no one would forget the debt they owed to the High Lord.
There has been talk of statues and other monuments throughout Kyralia and the Allied Lands, thought Rothen, as if that would take away the nasty taste left by Akkarin's treatment by the Guild and by the King.
He sighed again. The Guild was an unhappy place these days. So many magicians dead, so many buildings in the city destroyed; so much work to do with few resources. After Akkarin's funeral, the Guild had elected Balkan High Lord and one of the first decisions he had made was to open membership of the Guild to anyone with magic, regardless of whether they were from the Houses or the slums.
This had caused uproar in the Guild as a majority of magicians were still opposed to the thought of allowing anyone with talent to join. It had taken all of Balkan's skill to get a vote in favour. Even now, magicians were testing ordinary citizens to identify those with potential.
Rothen's musings were disturbed by a sound from the figure on the bed. Both he and the Healer leaned over to see what might have caused it. Sonea's head moved from side to side, and the sound came again, a low groan or moan. The Healer placed her hand on Sonea's forehead and gazed into space for a few minutes.
"I think she might be waking up," she muttered. "Come on, dear, open your eyes!"
Sonea's head moved again and then her eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the Healer and then at Rothen.
"Rothen, wh…where am I?" she whispered. "I feel so strange."
"It's all right Sonea," the Healer said soothingly. "You have been ill."
Sonea's eyes closed again for a few minutes then suddenly flew open.
"Akkarin?" she said. "Where's Akkarin?"
Rothen and the Healer looked at each other for a few seconds, then the Healer shrugged, "It's better she knows," she said.
Rothen took both of Sonea's hands in his, cleared his throat and looked into her eyes.
"Akkarin is dead, Sonea. He was killed by one of the Ichanis in front of the University, don't you remember?" He could feel tears in his eyes as he saw the expression on Sonea's face.
"No! No!" she said. "He can't be dead. We have made plans. We have so much to do…"
Her voice trailed away. "I do not believe it."
Vinara, who had been alerted by the Healer, appeared in the room and, sweeping the others aside, took one of Sonea's hands and concentrated. She felt her forehead, looked into her eyes and sat back, satisfied.
"You are in reasonable health, Sonea, for someone who has been asleep for such a long time. Your power, which was very low when you were brought in, is back to full strength and seems to be still increasing. What you need is some nourishing food and perhaps a little wine to help you feel better."
Vinara gave instructions to the Healer who vanished only to return a few minutes later with a tray of food and a glass of wine. Sonea was helped into a chair and encouraged to swallow the food and sip the wine. She obediently did as she was asked.
Since hearing of Akkarin's death, Sonea's face had grown paler than ever and showed no expression. No tears had fallen, she seemed almost as still as she had been before she woke up.
Rothen took Vinara aside. "She is not behaving as I thought she would," he said worriedly. "She has not cried, it is almost as if she is willing Akkarin to not be dead and has told herself it is not true."
Vinara nodded. "This could be a very worrying sign. I have seen cases like this before and it can lead to mental breakdown. We must try our best to see this does not happen to Sonea."
Rothen could only agree. But that is only the first of our worries, he thought. What of Sonea's future position in the Guild? How is that going to be resolved?
