Disclaimer – I do not own BMT world, it belongs to Trudi Canavan

Homecoming

By the time Sonea awoke, she had missed breakfast. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as she lay down on her bed and didn't stir again until the sun was well up in the heavens. There had been no dreams, just deep restful sleep. She felt better too. Her power had started to renew itself, and although it was nowhere near back to normal, she had enough to Heal any aches and pains, clean and tidy her clothing and perform other fairly routine tasks.

She freshened the water in her jug and washed face and hands, before dressing quickly. She really needed to bathe, but it was important she find out when Akkarin and the others were expected back at the Guild. She wanted to be there, not left behind, forgotten, in the bath house.

She opened her door and hailed a passing servant who did not look best pleased when asked to fetch some raka and sweet rolls. It was some time before her breakfast arrived and Sonea was certain the servant had dawdled. She gave a wry smile. It was funny how servants disliked her as much as some of the magicians.

The raka was warm rather than hot and the rolls were not the freshest she had eaten, but Sonea made short work of them. She was ravenous, probably because so much of her energy was going into the restoration of her power. She would have liked more, but there was no prospect of further food until the midday meal.

She set off for the Day Room to see what she could find out. She had just left the Magicians' Quarters when she heard the faint sigh of a mental voice. There was something about it which caused her to stop and listen very carefully.

Syma, Verrin comes…

It could only have been Justen, although how he could know anything about Akkarin, she couldn't begin to understand. Just as she was about to reply, another voice crashed into the mental communication channels.

SYMA? WHO IS SYMA?

Sonea didn't recognise that voice either, but whoever it was, he spoke with arrogant authority.

Justen continued to send, his mental voice barely above a whisper, Syma, Verrin comes quickly….

THERE IS NO SYMA HERE. WHO IS SENDING? NAME YOURSELF?

Other mental voices joined in, …..we know no Syma…Who is this Verrin? Is it the Ichani?...Can you locate the sender?

This last message worried Sonea. It was possible to trace a sending, if enough time and effort was put into the task. She needed to prevent anyone being able to pinpoint Justen. She began to walk swiftly, changing direction frequently, all the while sending disjointed phrases and strange words, disguising her mental voice so it sounded like Justen's. She bombarded the listeners with nonsense for two or three minutes, never pausing to let anyone else into the conversation.

Just as she hoped, when she finished, the mental communication channels were full of confused questions, Justen had stopped sending and no one had been able to find either Justen or herself. But her efforts had taken their toll. She had used up much of her precious power in the process so there would be little left if she needed to use magic.

She sat down on a bench in the gardens, trying to puzzle out how Justen, living quietly in Imardin, could possibly know what Akkarin was doing or even where he was, yet his insistence that Verrin was coming was a logical point to make. Akkarin and the rest would be hurrying back to the Guild. But how did he know?

Her son had a precocious magic unlike any she had come across before. She could only assume that the strikes from the Ichani she had suffered during her pregnancy had somehow affected Justen's development. She certainly believed it was the cause of his inability to speak and hear. She had never confessed her misgivings to Akkarin because she knew he would blame her and he would be right. She should never have taken part in a battle fought with magic, knowing herself to be pregnant.

But that was old news. Sonea sighed and stood up. She had never ceased to blame herself since Justen was born and she never would, but there was little point in beating herself with it now. She had to ready herself for the return of the others.

The return of Akkarin, you mean, her mind said snidely and she had to agree. She longed to see him again, as herself, and not as Jalette. She thought back to their life in the mountains; what had once seemed so empty, now seemed eminently desirable. Why had she ever thought she wanted excitement? Why had she tried so hard to persuade Akkarin to return? Naturally, her mind had no answer to give her, but Sonea knew it was down to her rebellious spirit never being satisfied with what it had, but always wanting something more. And look where that got you!

As she neared the Day Room, she saw dozens of magicians pouring out of the building and heading towards the Hall. She grabbed a young novice and asked what was happening.

"The High Lord's returning," the child gasped, twitching her sleeve out of Sonea's grasp and darting away.

Sonea joined the throng and was swept along until she found herself wedged in a seat close to the central aisle, from where she had a fairly good view of the front of the Hall. She looked up. The High Lord's seat was empty and she was probably the only one in the Hall who knew for certain it would remain so for the foreseeable future. The King's seat was also vacant. As she watched, the Heads of Discipline and other Higher Magicians slowly filed in and took their places.

She was a long way from the main entrance but she heard the sound of massive bolts being withdrawn then the vast doors being flung back against the wall. There was the sound of boots slapping stone. The procession had arrived. She, along with everyone around her, twisted in her seat and craned her neck to catch a glimpse.

There was silence from the Hall at first, only the sounds of movement as the procession entered. Then, like a rolling wave of thunder, she heard a collective groan swelling and moving forward. The biers had been seen. There was no mental communication. It was almost as if, after that first groan, the magicians had been stunned into silence.

Gradually, the column of magicians with their burdens made their way down the central aisle to the area beneath the High Lord's seat. Benin led the procession, with the Warriors behind him carrying the biers. Immediately behind them Akkarin walked alone, his face expressionless. Next came the rest of the party, the Alchemists and Healers.

The Warriors halted, reverently laid their burdens down, then fanned out on either side and turned to face the congregation of magicians. Akkarin and the others reached the front, divided into two groups to stand each side of the central position.

Sonea's eyes were fixed on Akkarin. Although he had taken a subordinate position in the grouping facing the Hall, she would have bet her life that all eyes watched him carefully.

Benin stepped out and stood in front of the biers, "The High Lord is dead," he intoned almost as if he were speaking a ritual. "The Administrator is dead. They gave their lives in defence of the Guild."

As if his words had unleased their ability to think and communicate, Sonea's mind was filled with a jumble of sendings, too many to distinguish one outpouring from another.

Benin held up his hand, and silence fell again. "Today, we will honour their sacrifice. Tomorrow they will be buried in our ancient burial ground and stone monuments will be raised so that future generations will know that there lie honourable magicians who did not shirk from giving their lives to save us all."

Despite her personal feelings for Balkan, Sonea felt tears spring to her eyes. The two men had died heroic deaths and perhaps that fact would go a long way to mitigating her hostile feelings towards them both. In the meantime someone must have asked a question she didn't catch, because Benin turned and gestured towards Akkarin, "The King's Magician can explain."

"I have sent messages to the King and there will be a Hearing in the King's presence to investigate the circumstances of the High Lord's death. The Hearing will take place after the burial of Lord Balkan and Lord Osen." Akkarin's voice gave nothing away as he continued, "Their bodies will rest here in the Hall until the burial, so that all of you can pay your personal respects."

After that, there was nothing more to be said. The Heads of Discipline rose and in company with other Higher Magicians left the hall. Benin and the Warriors remained where they were, but the Alchemists and Healers gradually moved away. The magicians around Sonea began to stand and she rose with them. She was conscious of a prickling along her neck and glanced up to find Akkarin's eyes were fixed on her. As she did so, his mental voice came whispering into her mind, so soft she could barely hear it.

Go and eat, then go to your rooms and wait there for me.

Her immediate response was to bridle, but she choked down the feeling. She wanted to see him so much there was no point in being angry at the tone of absolute command in his voice. Another pair of eyes were watching her closely too and she suddenly noticed them. Regin was staring at her, a frown creasing his forehead.

He remembers, she thought. He remembers I was there.

She followed the crowd to the Food Hall. She was very hungry and chose a large portion of stew and vegetables, with several rolls and a large mug of raka. She found an out of the way table and kept her head down, concentrating on her food. She didn't want to be bothered with conversation. Her mind was filled with Akkarin and she was sure she wouldn't be able to think of anything else.

She finished her meal and began to walk to the exit. She noticed Kelda and Regin sitting together and both stared at her as she passed before resuming their conversation. She smiled to herself. Go on, try to work it out! she thought gleefully. I'll bet you can't!

Back in her room, she waited impatiently for Akkarin. Of course he had given her no idea of how long he would be so time dragged. She picked up a book and tried to read, but gave up after a few minutes. She attempted some physical exercises, then tried some of Yikmo's calming mental activities, but nothing worked. Her nerves were on edge. The slightest sound made her jump and every footstep along the corridor made her throat dry and her breathing erratic. But still he didn't come.

She opened her door and glanced along the corridor. It was deserted. She returned to her chair and picked up another book. This time she succeeded in reading for a good half an hour, but didn't retain any of the information. She flung it aside and began to pace. Her room wasn't very big, so it didn't take long to get from one end to the other. After a few minutes, she became bored with the whole thing and went into her sleeping chamber. She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes.

She began to think of their recent conversations and wondered anew if he understood who Jalette really was. As before, she wavered between the two opposite positions, convincing herself that he knew perfectly well who he was dealing with, but then deciding that it wasn't that simple. Her mind ran round and round, her thoughts went on and on.

She awoke suddenly, the room was in darkness but she knew she was not alone. She managed to light a small globe light and saw Akkarin sitting comfortably in a chair next to the bed. He had taken off his outer robes and was simply dressed in tight fitting trousers and a black silk shirt. He was smiling at her.

"How long have you been sitting there?" she demanded as she scrambled to the floor, embarrassed at being caught asleep.

"Oh around an hour or so," came the reply. "You looked so peaceful, it was a shame to disturb you."

She hurried out of the sleeping chamber, desiring the neutrality of the sitting room. Akkarin followed. She heard the clink of glasses and saw that he had brought a bottle of his favourite dark red wine. He handed her a full glass, and taking the other, sat down and motioned for her to do the same.

Unsure of what to say, she sipped the wine, savouring its mellow flavour as it slipped down, warming her body from the inside out. Akkarin was staring at her, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He was going to make her speak first, she just knew it!

"It was a successful trip," she began, annoyed at the way her voice sounded, all nervous and breathless. She took a deep breath and started again. "The Ichani were repelled and it will be a long time until they try again."

"Your assistance was invaluable," he replied. "You played your part to perfection."

She stared at him. Was there a double meaning in his words?

This time, his amusement was plain to see as a warm smile curved his lips. "Yes, Sonea, perfection. No one else could have done it so well."

"You knew I would follow you," she said, understanding finally that she had been part of his plan all along.

Akkarin set his glass down and stretching over, removed hers from her hand and pulled her into his embrace, leaning back in the chair and settling her against him, his arms around her, his fingers playing with her hair.

"Of course," he said. "We are a team which works together to defeat our enemies. I knew you would be there when you were most needed."

She pulled away from him so she could look directly into his eyes, "Then why in the name of the Eye did you forbid me to go?" She couldn't keep the exasperation from her voice which only made his smile wider.

"I plan things very carefully, you know that. Sometimes however, the mere act of making a plan makes things rigid. I needed a way to loosen that rigidity and that way is you."

Her puzzlement must have shown in her eyes, because he tried to explain more clearly, "It is easy to develop a plan, but then it is even easier to find your actions are controlled and shaped by that plan. All your thinking is devoted to the actions you have decided upon. However events have a habit of turning out differently to what you expect and a good strategist needs to be flexible enough to change according to circumstances. I like to think of myself as an excellent strategist, but the Ichani are prone to do the unexpected. In fighting to destroy them, something else needs to be added to the mix. An unknown quantity, if you like, a wild card, whose actions are unpredictable. You are my unknown quantity."

Sonea's mouth opened in surprise at his words. Akkarin really does need me, she thought, a warm glow which was not down to the wine, spreading through her.

"So you prevented me from joining the party but you knew that somehow I would manage to follow you to Corres Fort and play my part, whatever that was to be?"

"Yes. It was important that I left you to follow your own instincts. In all the years I have known you, you have always followed your instincts, even when they were directly opposed to my wishes and led you into difficult situations. In the end, things have always tended to turn out well. This time I wanted you to act freely, without any constraints on my part. And you did. Your intervention in the battles with the Ichani was crucial to our success."

"Did you know I was there all the time?"

"Yes, I knew from the first time I met Jalette."

"How could you know?" she demanded. She had taken so much trouble to create her disguise, it was galling to learn she hadn't fooled Akkarin for a moment.

"You did well to disguise the feel of your magic. The introduction of the flower magic was very clever, but we have been lovers for a long time. We have mingled our magic sources, as well as our bodies. I know the taste, the scent, the power of your magic as well as I know my own. I could sense you very clearly under the flowery overlay. And, of course, as soon as I saw you on that horse, there could be no doubt at all."

Sonea laughed out loud. She couldn't help it. All the hours of planning and experimenting with altering her magic, the time taken to persuade Lorlen and Vinara in the first place, the worry she would give herself away to Kelda, all of it had been for nothing. She was part of Akkarin's strategy and he had been aware of her from the beginning.

"If only you knew," she exclaimed, "everything I went through to carry it off. The hours of work, the worry and the strain of coping with you…"

"But I did know. I watched you very carefully and I could see what it took out of you, but there was nothing I could do without giving the game away." He smiled broadly, "Did you know just how attractive you are when you blush?"

Despite all her intentions, Sonea felt the colour creep up her cheeks. She remembered all their meetings at the Fort, the words they had exchanged, the way he had looked at her, the way she had felt…Then she remembered something else.

She slipped out of his embrace, using her desire for more wine as an excuse. She grabbed her glass and took a mouthful, then sat down again in her own chair.

"Do you remember what you said when I asked you about your 'companion'?" she asked.

"I remember many things we spoke about, Sonea," he said evading the question and she wondered if he had forgotten.

"You said, 'My companion and I were forced together by a series of events. Neither of us chose the other, but we have lived together for some years in harmony, working and studying magic.' Do you remember?"

An expression she couldn't read flashed across his face before it settled into its distant look, "Yes, I remember."

She waited, but he said nothing. To be truthful, she was unclear about her own motives in reminding him, but it was like a small wound you can't help picking at. At the time, she had been terribly hurt by the remark, but now, it didn't seem that important, but it was too late for regrets, she had to continue.

"So our lives together have been because of circumstances, not choice?"

This time she couldn't mistake the expression on his face, it was one of frustration and for an instant, she saw herself through his eyes, a woman who most of the time acted like a child, a child who couldn't believe what was plainly in front of her, but who needed to question everything.

"I'm sorry," she said hastily. "It was nothing, just something to make conversation."

"Then or now?" She could hear the annoyance in his tone, although he had tried to hide it.

"Now, then, it doesn't matter. Have some more wine."

She held out the bottle and refilled his glass. He took a large swallow, looked down at the glass and drained it. He stood up.

"You are very tired and should rest."

"No….no, I'm not. Please don't go, Akkarin."

He looked at her intently, his eyes boring into hers and she knew he was trying to read her surface thoughts. She opened her mind to him, so he could see what she was feeling. It was so much easier than trying to find the right words.

He took a step towards her and she completed the journey so they were in each other's arms. His mouth crushed hers and she gave herself up to the passion which swept through her, banishing all other thoughts.