Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan
Lorlen rubbed his eyes wearily. The meeting with the king dragged on for hours and he would love to slip away to his living quarters, as other Higher Magicians had done. Alas, he couldn't deprive his fellow magicians of a chance to speak with him in this time of unrest. Wishing he could be an Administrator in an easier epoch, he made his slow way to the Night Club. The room was filled with magicians. Their anxious voices created an eerie cacophony that made his flesh creep. They were frightened by his new edict.
"Administrator!" Ambassador Dannyl was the first to notice him pause at the threshold. Lorlen smiled tiredly and made his way to his customary seat.
"Good evening, Ambassador," Lorlen said, nodded to other magicians who greeted him, and sank into a chair with a heavy sigh.
"Administrator Lorlen, what happened this morning? Why did you ban mental communication?" Lord Yhkmo didn't allow time for idle chatter.
He sighed.
"Earlier today, when Lord Osen communicated to me that Akkarin and Sonea had crossed the border, another magician was eavesdropping to our conversation. We should consider the possibility that our past communications had been overheard as well."
The magicians stared back at him in shock and disbelief.
"What did they say?" Lord Rothen asked after a tense and loaded silence.
Lorlen met his gaze as he recounted the unpleasant experience. He was trying to tell the story in as unthreatening a manner as possible, but he could see from the grave faces of all the magicians around him that their understanding of it mirrored his.
After Lorlen's troubling news the conversation in the Night Room was slow and subdued. The possibility that the Guild through its over-confidence and carelessness had fallen victim to espionage of unknown and unfriendly parties distressed them deeply. Lorlen rose to his feet and yawned. He hadn't slept properly in days. Tonight wouldn't be any easier. Maybe he should ask Lady Vinara for a sleeping drug…
Akkarin!
A mental voice and an image that came with it froze him in place. The room around him fell silent as the magicians recognized the voice and understood the significance.
"Sonea!" Rothen croaked. "He left her alone!"
Lorlen concentrated on Sonea's projected thoughts. Her fear and panic were painful to endure. Lorlen wondered if she even realised that she was projecting her ordeal for all to witness.
"Is that an Ichani," Lady Indria inquired in a timid voice. She winced as the Sachakan's intentions became clear.
"They must have separated to lose pursuit," Lord Yhkmo concluded grimly. "Akkarin must be dead already."
That was very likely, Lorlen thought with a pang of sadness. He would try to help her if he was alive.
Sonea's fear was making her unreasonable, she couldn't bring herself to react effectively.
"Why doesn't she fight back?" Rothen's question was strangled.
Fight him!
Akkarin's command was like a lash of a whip. Lorlen jumped and so did several of his colleagues. It was a voice of pure rage. Fury at his failure. Failure at protecting Sonea.
How? He's too strong!
Lorlen blinked, How? What does she mean?
With magic, Sonea!
Oh!
Lorlen chuckled nervously. Akkarin's mental voice was annoyed, amused and fond all at the same time. And Sonea's embarrassed realization added humour to the exchange. But the situation wasn't humorous. The Ichani scoffed at Sonea's attempts to fight him. Lorlen disregarded it at first. He knew Sonea was an exceptionally powerful magician, and in addition to the power she had gained by killing a Sachakan woman in Imardin she must be a serious threat even to another black magician. He watched the battle unfold, and with every strike that felt like a hammering of a battering ram he grew colder. Sonea's terror and exhaustion washed over his mind like icy shower.
"How can anyone hold so much power!" someone wondered in terrified fascination.
Sonea was defeated within minutes. She was too tired to even stand straight.
"Not again!" Rothen moaned, catching his head in his hands as if he wanted to make the images go away. Lorlen knew he would endure it no matter what the finale would be. He owed it to Akkarin and Sonea. He would bear witness before the king so that the monarch understood the consequences of his cruel verdict.
He sucked in a startled breath as she kicked the Ichani.
"That's my slum girl!" Lord Yhkmo crowed in delight.
And yet they all knew that Sonea's bold efforts wouldn't save her. They had been foolish and sent two people to their deaths under the excuse of justice. The last thought Sonea shared with Akkarin, and through him with all the guild, was an image of a crescent-shaped silver dagger with a jeweled handle. Then all was silent.