"Lord Rothen, I'm sorry. I understand your concerns. But you know I do not have the authority to de-instate the High Lord's novice," Lorlen told the elderly Alchemist with what he hoped was a stern tone. Lord Rothen looked at him entreatingly from across his desk, his hands curled into fists at the end of the sleeves of his purple robes.
"Administrator, you have the authority to bring any topic to the agenda at the next meeting of the Higher Magicians – "
"Be that as it may," Lorlen interrupted quietly, "I do not think this is a good idea." He looked down at the red-jewelled ring on his own finger, fiddling with it for a moment. "Might I add that you should not be here, and we should not be having this conversation," the Administrator whispered. He knew Akkarin was probably listening in to this conversation through the ring.
"The High Lord need not know. Besides, every Guild magician has the right to bring forth concerns to the Administrator," Lord Rothen replied, his voice betraying a touch of frustration.
"The High Lord may find out we met."
"He is currently at the palace. As powerful as he may be, I doubt he can be in two places at once," Rothen said, his mouth a thin line of distaste.
Lorlen raised his eyebrows, almost to himself, then stood up to indicate the meeting was over. "I'm sorry, Lord Rothen. My answer is final."
Rothen stood and stepped closer to Lorlen's desk, his facial expression now turning from disapproving to angry. "Administrator, please," he began quietly. "Is Sonea to be sacrificed, after all I – we – have done to get her into the Guild, nurture her talents, and convince people that we should look beyond the Houses for magical potential? She is a hostage," Rothen hissed. "We didn't turn a blind eye when Lord Fergun held Sonea's friend hostage, and he was a mere dwell. Yet we turn a blind eye when our most powerful novice is held hostage by the leader of our Guild?"
– You need to be more convincing, Lorlen. Lord Rothen does not look like he will be satisfied.
Lorlen almost jumped when he heard Akkarin's voice in his head. He quickly looked down at his ring then back into Rothen's angry face.
"I am keeping an eye on Sonea, Lord Rothen. I regularly dine with her and the High Lord at his residence. She has been excelling in her studies ever since she began receiving private tuition, and is in good health," Lorlen replied.
– You need to give him a little more than that, my friend. Reassure him you are on his side, not mine, Akkarin sent.
Lorlen took a deep breath and walked around his desk, resting a hand on the old Alchemist's shoulder. "Whatever Akkarin's reasons are for… practicing what he does, his motivations aren't clear yet. He is already stronger than us, and he heads the Guild. I don't believe he is on a personal quest for more power, but I know no more than that. Until we have some answers, there is no reason to make a rash move and risk Sonea's safety," he said gently.
Rothen's face softened a little, but he still raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I'm surprised you think she is contented with her situation, Administrator. Are you so easily reconciled to leaving her to daily blackmail and fear?"
The corner of Lorlen's mouth twitched, and he quickly turned away from Rothen to gaze out of his office window, hoping he hadn't spotted it. It took every ounce of mental self-control the Administrator had to keep his thoughts from straying to that night. He cleared his throat. "Like I said, I dine with them regularly. I wouldn't say the young woman I've observed is distressed."
There was no further advice from the ring.
"If that is all, Lord Rothen, I really must get on," Lorlen turned back to the Alchemist, gave a polite nod of his head, and gestured towards the door of his office.
"Administrator," Rothen inclined his head coldly, his jaw set. He strode out of the room just as Akkarin's voice echoed in Lorlen's mind once more.
– If I know Lord Rothen, I'm afraid he wasn't satisfied. He may act alone.
– Well, what would you have me say, Akkarin? I can hardly be convincing when I know neither your reasons for practicing black magic, nor whether Sonea's reconciled to her… situation, Lorlen replied pointedly.
There was a pause, and Lorlen thought Akkarin had severed their mind-link. But then he heard the High Lord's response, sounding a little tired.
– I may have to share my reasons with you soon enough, Lorlen. Then Akkarin's tone lost its touch of resignation and grew curt and possessive. As for Sonea, she is my concern, and mine alone, he added.
– Very well.
Lorlen waited in silence for a while until he was sure Akkarin had moved on his attention from their ring connection. The Administrator could no longer sense his friend's presence near the edge of his thoughts. Only then did he allow himself to recall the night he had witnessed their sexual encounter.
As he sat back down at his desk and pulled a pile of papers towards him, Lorlen smiled grimly. Yes, you're clearly quite personally concerned with your novice, Akkarin. The question now is, what are you both up to?
—
"Are you certain?"
Cery leaned forward and clasped his hands on top of his desk, holding the dark gaze of the man in front of him steadily. "As certain as we've ever been in the past. All the usual signs suggest he will return to that room tonight. But I can't predict if he'll change his mind."
The High Lord nodded. "Thank you. I'll be back via the usual route in two hours' time. You'll take the necessary precautions?"
Cery narrowly avoided raising an eyebrow at the imposing black-robed figure in his doorway, knowing it could appear impertinent. He and the High Lord had worked together on several kills, but he had never seemed as agitated as he was tonight, repeatedly going over plans that both of them full knew well by now. No harm in being cautious, Cery thought, but I wonder if he knows something about the murderer that I don't.
"Already in place," Cery replied calmly.
The High Lord looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly wanting to say more. He is nervous, Cery realised with surprise. Not a good sign.
"There is one more thing you should know, given your close involvement in what will happen tonight. I will not be working alone this time," Akkarin said. His brows knitted in a frown. "I'm sure you've observed that each… murderer is more powerful than the last. I have been preparing for the next confrontation, but acting alone is now unwise," he said.
Well, that's a tactful way of saying it's likely he, Gol and I may die tonight, Cery thought sardonically. He had guessed as much when the last murderer had overpowered Akkarin and escaped.
"I need you to promise me that you will not deviate from the plan, whatever happens" the High Lord's eyes bored into his own.
Cery frowned. "I know my work, High Lord, and it's not battling magicians. Why would you think I would deviate from our plan?" Has someone given Akkarin cause to doubt me? Cery would have to make some inquiries. He wouldn't put it past some Thieves to be spreading rumours to discredit him.
Akkarin didn't break eye contact. "I need your word, Ceryni. No matter who you see with me, and what happens," he said cryptically.
Cery held his gaze steadily. "My word," he said. Akkarin gave a curt nod and disappeared out the door, his threadbare cloak parting to reveal a glimpse of black robes.
Leaning back in his chair, Cery reached for the cup of half-drunk raka on his desk. He knew something wasn't quite right, but couldn't understand why the High Lord may need his promise on something Cery had already proven time and time again. Whatever's going to be different about this confrontation, he clearly thought it will provoke me, he thought.
Cery respected the High Lord, but he did not trust him like he could trust his closest employees. Whatever he was about to see tonight, Cery hoped it would not give him any cause to test his promise.
—
"This is a Sachakan blade, worn only by magicians," Akkarin said. "Their knives are forged and sharpened with magic. It is many centuries old and was passed down from father to son. Its last owner was Dakova. I would have left it behind, but Takan salvaged it and brought it with him. Take the knife, Sonea."
The blade glinted menacingly in the globelight illuminating the underground room of the High Lord's residence. Sonea took a deep breath to steady her hand and grasped its cool hilt. Unconciously, she held it as Cery had taught her to years ago in the slums, her thumb wrapped around and over her middle fingers, all five squeezing the hilt tightly.
Akkarin watched approvingly, then his eyes looked into Sonea's intensely. "Do not try to approach the Ichani to use it on him. This is only, only to be used if you're sure he is sufficiently weakened or distracted," he said, his voice deep and serious. Sonea held his gaze and nodded to show she understood.
Silence stretched on for a moment between the three figures in the shadowy room. Takan broke the silence with his soft, accented voice.
"You will make a formidable team, master. You chose well when you took on her guardianship."
Akkarin snorted quietly and looked down at the table between them, where two tattered cloaks were laid out. "You know very well I didn't choose anything, Takan," he replied quietly, glancing up at Sonea momentarily. When Takan looked at her knowingly, Sonea wondered if Akkarin was referring to more than just the circumstances under which he'd been forced to learn black magic.
"Let's prepare," said the High Lord, and removed the top half of his black robes. Takan reached for the longer of the two cloaks on the table, placing it around his master's shoulders and tying it securely at the neck. He made to do the same for Sonea, but she had already began pulling the second cloak around herself. Busying herself with the garment, she tried to hide the combination of anticipation and fear that her face betrayed.
In the next moment, she felt Akkarin's cool fingers gently grasp her chin, coaxing her gaze up from the floor and into his eyes. His other hand grasped her own firmly. Sonea felt momentarily embarassed at their open display of closeness in front of Takan, but his touch calmed her nerves. "Remember your training" he said calmly. "But don't let it override your instincts. They are better than most magicians'," Akkarin added, his lips curling up at the corner. Sonea felt her face warm a little. It was still slightly unnerving to be the sole obejct of that intense gaze, or the recipient of his compliments. But Akkarin's steadiness helped her own breathing relax a little, and determination began to set in.
Moving to a cupboard, the High Lord took out the leather belt with the knife sheath she had seen him wearing the night she had spied upon him, so long ago. He handed it to Sonea, and she slipped the Sachakan blade into the sheath, then tied the belt around her waist, under her cloak.
A faraway look entered Akkarin's eyes for a moment, and Sonea suspected he had received a mental communication. "Our associate confirms the Ichani has been spotted returning to his rented room," he said, his gaze snapping to Takan's.
Takan walked briskly to the door that led to the passages, and disappeared down the tunnel for a moment.
They waited, standing utterly still. Then Sonea bit her lip and looked up at the tall man next to her. "Akkarin…" she began quietly. "If… if the Ichani proves too powerful, you will withdraw, won't you?" Try as she might, she couldn't keep the emotion from her voice.
Akkarin looked down at her with a crooked smile. "I know the circumstances are hardly ideal, but I'm glad you no longer wish me dead."
It was Sonea's turn to snort. She looked at him reproachfully. "I'm serious," she said, reaching for his hand. He returned the pressure of her grasp. "The Guild needs you. And –" Sonea looked away. "So do I," she finished quietly.
"Sonea –"
At that moment, Takan reappeared in the doorway of the passages. "All clear, master. The guide awaits you at the third turn under the Inner Circle."
Akkarin's jaw set in determination and he gave Sonea's hand another squeeze. "Let's go."
Feeling the comforting weight of the blade against her hip, Sonea exhaled steadily and nodded gratefully to Takan, then followed Akkarin's brisk pace into the underground passages.
