A/N: This story starts when Akkarin takes Sonea as his novice and is canon-compliant until the battle with the Ichani (mostly-I do include my version of events in the year between The Novice and the High Lord which would not be considered nothing of consequence, but I was trying to better explain why Akkarin decides to tell Sonea about his past). It's told from Akkarin's point of view since we obviously don't get that point of view in the books (for good reason). I do give his thoughts about some of the events in the books, but I try not to include too much detail about what happened because I don't just want to repeat the books, so this assumes a good working knowledge of the trilogy. I also include a lot more political details which become important later when I start to diverge from canon though with the way this story is shaping up, that will probably turn into a sequel. . .
As always, this all belongs to Trudi Canavan.
Akkarin sat awake in his study long after he had heard the door to the Novice's quarters in his Residence close behind its new occupant. He had a glass of wine in front of him, but he had yet to take a sip. He suspected that if he did, he would not stop. And it was not good for a magician to lose control of his mind to drink, especially a magician as powerful and with as many secrets as he had. Not to mention a magician who had only the night to rework carefully crafted plans that had been in place for years.
Despite his knowledge that he needed to think through his plans, he could not stop himself from reliving the events of the day. He had known for some time that Lorlen suspected something. His friend was skilled in his duties as Administrator, but he was not a man who would have ever been comfortable in Court with all its intrigues and half-truths. Lorlen was too honest, too trusting. Akkarin had always admired him for those qualities just as Lorlen had admired his friend for his ability to cut through the thicket of weeds that surrounded most political situations and come up with a workable solution.
In all honesty, Akkarin had probably benefited most from Lorlen's trusting nature. It meant that he had not asked too many questions when his friend had returned after nearly five years abroad. It also meant that he had overlooked certain slips which may have alerted him to Akkarin's secrets long before Sonea did. But he had trusted his old friend completely. And blindly, a less-than-charitable voice in the back of Akkarin's mind added.
Now, Akkarin's secret was no longer a secret. Since the beginning, he had been planning what to do if such a thing occurred. However, most of his plans had assumed that he would be discovered and immediately brought to trial, something that had not yet happened. Therefore, it would be unwise to reveal all his secrets, including the reasoning behind his use of Black Magic. He had considered taking Lorlen into his confidence, but a single look into his friend's mind told him that would never work, especially once he learned of Sonea and Rothen's involvement. Lorlen loathed Black Magic, an attitude Akkarin could not fault him for given that most of Kyralia felt the same. Knowing that his friend practiced Black Magic caused Lorlen to extend that loathing to Akkarin as well, coupled with a feeling of betrayal that Akkarin was not sure he would ever be able to overcome.
It was necessary, he thought, three words that had become his mantra since his trip to Sachaka. He finally relented and took a sip of his wine, but it did not remove the bitter taste from his mouth. Just as taking Sonea hostage to ensure her and Rothen's silence was necessary. He had not wanted to do it. He had thought for over an hour, trying to find a better solution, one that did not involve terrorizing one of the most promising Novices he had ever seen and one of the few magicians that saw her potential. But he had come up with nothing. He certainly could not take them into his confidence–they had no reason to believe him. And so he controlled them the only way he could, a way which had become all too familiar–fear.
Looking down, Akkarin noted that the glass was already empty. He ignored the urge to pour another one, knowing it would soon disappear as well. He needed a clear head so he could ensure he had not missed anything. One small detail could easily undo all the work he had already done, and he refused to let that happen. He would not fail. He could not fail. If he did, there would be no one left to take up the mantle he bore.
That thought brought his mind back to Lorlen again. Over the years, he had often entertained the idea of bringing Lorlen in as an accomplice or at least another willing source of power, but he had always hesitated. The logical part of his brain would always talk him out of such an action, pointing out all the reasons it would not work. Still, he had kept a lingering hope, but now that, too, was gone. Going into his friend's mind had confirmed everything he had known but not fully admitted to himself. Lorlen was not the partner he needed.
A noise overhead directed his attention upwards, and he frowned as he considered his new tenant. Her mind had proved the most interesting of the three he had entered that day. She was unsurprisingly suspicious of Black Magic, but she did not have the deep-rooted prejudices of other magicians. He supposed her upbringing accounted for much of that. But she also had a strong sense of right and wrong and a willingness to act in accordance with those beliefs, no matter the consequences. And his examination of her past had shown him that she was frighteningly clever but that her teachers were not willing to develop her talents to their fullest potential given her background. It truly was disappointing to see that–given her huge amount of power and her mental acuity, she could easily become one of the best magicians the Guild had ever seen. She would make a worthy accomplice and could likely even be persuaded to join him once she knew his reasons.
He stopped those thoughts immediately, pushing them from his mind. She was a Novice who had learned about her magical potential less than two years before. She needed more training and more time to mature. Perhaps once she had graduated and was a full magician, he could reconsider confiding in her, but that would be three years yet. And she hates you, the voice in his head reminded him. Fear could be useful as a motivator, but it had its downsides. Still, he had seen no other option.
With a sigh, he set aside his wineglass and stood up. There was nothing else he could do to help his situation at the current moment. He would go to see Director Jerrick in the morning and work on changing Sonea's schedule to ensure she had access to training that would actually let her reach her full potential. At least she would receive that benefit from the new arrangement though he was sure she would have much preferred to stay with Lord Rothen no matter the benefits of his Guardianship.
It was necessary. He just wished it was not so difficult.
As he explained his decisions regarding Sonea's schedule to Director Jerrick the following morning, he noted the way she watched the floor instead of looking at him. The few glances he saw her give him were filled with anger and hatred, and he inwardly sighed. He had known things would not be easy and had thought he was resigned to having Sonea hate him. She would not be the first, and he doubted she would be the last. But something was different about her, and it had taken him all of a silent, sullen breakfast at the Residence to figure out what it was. For reasons that he still did not understand, he actually cared about her opinion, as much if not more than Lorlen's. That realization frightened him a bit, so he had resolutely pushed it to the back of his mind.
Once he left Sonea in Director Jerrick's care, he strode to the stables and took the reins of his horse from a stableboy. He had been riding since he was a small boy, so the action was instinctual enough that he could allow his mind to wander. As expected, it first wandered to his discovery the previous day, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. He had thought about that enough already and had a plan of action in which he was reasonably confident. There was no use dwelling on it now. Instead, he turned his mind to why the King might have called the meeting to which he was now headed. King Merin was only three years older than Akkarin himself which gave them a good deal in common–they were both men who had come into power relatively young and unexpectedly. Merin, in fact, had never intended to run the kingdom, but his older brother had died in a hunting accident, leaving Merin first in line for the throne. Though he hid it well, Akkarin knew that Merin never really wanted the throne and still resented having it thrust upon him. Unfortunately, that made the young king vulnerable to those who would seek to influence him which included most of the Court.
A page showed Akkarin immediately into the West Hall which King Merin typically used for smaller, less formal meetings. That was interesting. One of the side effects of Merin's heavy reliance on others was that many in his Court insisted on invitations to many meetings they had no business attending. That meant the current meeting was either of trivial importance or about something that even Merin realized needed to stay secret.
Akkarin bowed to the King who sat at the head of the table, his attention mostly on the stack of papers in front of him. Merin inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the greeting. A servant bustled over with food and drink, but Akkarin declined. He watched Merin carefully, trying to read his mood. He knew he could have read his surface thoughts, but he had always tried to avoid doing so to the King. They had worked together long enough that it was rarely necessary anyway. Right now, the tightness of Merin's lips and the creases in his forehead betrayed his worry. Akkarin knew that he tended to distract himself with paperwork when worried, and the size of the stack in front of the King told Akkarin that he was quite worried. Given that the King's eyes slid over the papers without focusing, however, the distraction obviously was not working.
Interestingly, the two magicians who acted as the King's Advisors were not present. Instead, the only other person currently in the room was Baron Thibault of House Rottingham. Akkarin frowned inwardly though he kept his face impassive. Thibault was one of the higher ranking counsellors to the king but certainly nowhere near the top, so it was odd to see him at a smaller meeting. He also was not exactly quiet about his dislike of magicians in general and Akkarin in particular though he was not bold enough to state his distaste openly in the King's presence. Perhaps that was about to change.
The door opened, and two more men walked in. They both bowed to the King before accepting refreshments from the servant and taking their seats. The older, a thin, white-haired man who had to be nearing seventy, was Duke Harris of House Eyrie. He was a shrewd politician who never missed an opportunity to better his or his House's standing, but he had always dealt fairly with Akkarin in the past. It helped that magical blood ran strong in his House, so he had a number of relatives in the Guild. The second man was slightly younger–though still old enough to be Akkarin's father–with a stockier build than his companion. He was Earl Olam of House Whitting, a House known for its underhanded methods but one which tended to support the Guild. Both were senior counsellors to the King, giving additional support to Akkarin's theory that the meeting involved something Merin did not want widely publicized.
Once Harris and Olam were seated, Merin pushed aside the papers and began. "I received some disturbing news recently, and I called this meeting because I feel that you four are likely to have the best insight into it. I hope I need not mention that everything we say here should be held in strictest confidence and not be discussed outside of this room with anyone." All four men nodded. The room was so silent that Akkarin could hear the others breathing. "I have been informed recently that the King of Lonmar and his counsel have been considering withdrawing from the Alliance."
This time, Akkarin let the frown show on his face. He had heard nothing of the sort, and he had an ambassador as well as a few spies in Lonmar. It seemed unlikely that they had missed something of such importance. "How trustworthy is the source of this information?" Harris questioned, voicing Akkarin's thoughts.
"The source has provided a good deal of valuable information in the past," Merin said, exchanging a glance with Thibault. Akkarin's frown deepened. He did not trust Thibault at all. If he was the source of the information, there was likely some reason for providing it other than to help the King deal with a potential threat. Thibault's first priority was Thibault. Akkarin had known him since he was in his early teens, and he could always count on that fact.
"Information about Lonmar?" Akkarin questioned.
Merin faltered slightly but kept his voice steady as he answered. "This is the first time the information has related to Lonmar, but his previous information has proven accurate. I have no reason to doubt him."
"I believe Lord Akkarin is simply upset that for once, he does not know everything. Did your network of spies fail you?" Thibault's grin was feral.
Akkarin had played the game of politics much too long to take the bait. "I have to admit that I have not heard this before today."
"Have you heard dissatisfaction among the Lonmar in the Guild?" Merin questioned, his attention now focused on Akkarin. "Or have you had trouble recruiting from there lately? The Guild is one of our main combined resources, so I was hoping that perhaps it might give us insight into this situation."
Akkarin shook his head. "We have had the usual number of Lonmar Novices. Some stay upon graduation and some return to Lonmar, but I would not say that we have more than the usual number pursuing either path."
"Have you heard any dissatisfaction from them?" Olam questioned.
"No. Though I admit that I am not in the habit of spying on my fellow magicians."
"Unless it suits your purposes," Thibault remarked.
"Perhaps it's just a small faction pushing the King to do this," Harris mused. "It may not have wider support."
"Nevertheless, if it is a faction that has the King's ear, you can see why I'm worried," Merin remarked.
"If they were to break from the Alliance, do we have anything to worry about from a defensive standpoint?" Olam questioned. All eyes turned to Akkarin, for everyone in the room knew that if it came to a war, magicians were likely to decide the outcome. The Sachakan War had taught them that.
Akkarin shook his head. "No. Lonmar has more magicians than others in the Allied Lands, but none are particularly impressive. And magic does not run nearly as strongly in their veins as it does in Kyrilians."
"Should we stop accepting Lonmar into the Guild?"
"No. That would be highly suspicious," Akkarin said immediately. Merin nodded in agreement.
"Then what are our options?" Olam asked.
"Right now, I just want you all to listen carefully for any more information that might be related to this issue and report directly to me if you hear anything of the sort." All four nodded respectfully, but inwardly, Akkarin wondered how likely it would be for him to hear such information.