The Day Room was blindingly lit by at least twenty globelights, but the mood was sombre. A few magicians were talking fast in low voices, their gestures and faces tense, but a large majority were still shocked and distracted by Kariko's mental communication. The Higher Magicians were sitting at the long banquet table that filled the centre of the room, but Administrator Lorlen and Lord Osen were standing.

"Is it true?" Lord Rothen approached Lorlen, who looked up at the Alchemist with wary eyes. "I mean – that we are under attack from Sachaka?" Rothen continued quietly under his breath. "How could this be? It's been centuries…"

Lorlen gestured with some exasperation towards the doors of the Day Room. "Yes. The High Lord will be here any moment, Lord Rothen, and you will find out more at the same time as everyone else."

"The High Lord has already devised a plan?" Rothen's eyebrows raised. "He knows of these intruders?"

Lorlen moved his weight from one leg to the other, trying not to show his agitation. "Patience, Lord Rothen. There – he has returned," he said as a figure in black robes walked through the doors of the Day Room. Lord Balkan strode purposefully behind him, and trailing somewhere behind both, in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid attention, was Sonea.

Lorlen almost didn't recognise her at first as she wasn't in her brown novices' robes, but then again, a handful of magicians in the room had also been caught in disarray. Some who had already retired to their rooms by the time the attack on the South Pass began had only managed to throw on the lower half of their robes and a winter cloak before hurrying to the Day Room.

"Ready, Administrator?" Akkarin's low and deep voice in his ear gave Lorlen a feeling of reassurance. Try as I might, I can't hate the man for what I know of his black magic. Lorlen felt annoyed at himself for a moment for how much depended on Akkarin at the Guild's hour of need. Or are you annoyed that you seem to instinctively trust your old friend nonetheless? His conscience seemed to ask.

Lorlen brought his thoughts firmly back into the present with a nod, amplifying his voice with magic and addressing the entire room.

"May we have your attention please." He was pleased that his voice sounded firm, betraying none of the helplessness that had hit him in waves since the news of the South Pass.

Over fifty pairs of concerned eyes turned to look in the direction of Lorlen, Lord Balkan and the High Lord. Vinara and Sarrin remained seated nearby, but also fixed their attention on them.

Akkarin, somehow looking as calm and imposing as ever, was a determined, dark figure emanating purpose. Somehow, it seemed to Lorlen, he stood taller, as if a burden had been lifted off him – but he doubted anyone else could read this minuscule change like he could.

Before he began speaking, Lorlen couldn't help but notice that Akkarin's black eyes flitted for the briefest of moments towards Sonea, who stood unobtrusively near the back of the crowd. Lorlen couldn't see Sonea's face, but Akkarin's jaw seemed to relax, then his gaze fixed itself on the crowd of magicians in front of them.

"There will be a time to mourn the loss we have suffered in the South Pass. But that time is not now," Akkarin began, inclining his head momentarily in respect of the memory of the dead. Several magicians – more than Lorlen expected – returned the slight bow, suggesting they believed the sincerity of the High Lord's words. The Administrator released a breath he wasn't even aware of holding. Whatever the circumstances, it is important that the Guild trusts in our leadership in this critical moment, he reminded himself.

"As we all witnessed, a dangerous group of magicians from Sachaka have now entered Kyralia and have declared their intention to attack Imardin and destroy our Guild," Akkarin continued calmly and seriously.

"Is it true there are only seven of them, High Lord?" A voice called out from the crowd.

"That is true," Akkarin replied, "but do not underestimate our enemy. These are seven Ichani, or outcast magicians, who have been banished from Sachakan society. They live in the Wastelands at the borders, and keep hundreds of slaves. For generations, they have strengthened themselves to the power of twenty Guild magicians through the practice of black magic. And they have finally decided to test us."

There was a few gasps around the room at the confirmation of the rumours that had been flying around all evening – that seven magicians with the collective power of over one hundred Guild magicians were making their way to Imardin.

"How have we not heard of these Ichani before now?" Lady Vinara asked, her eyes narrowed.

"They are an embarrassment to the court in Arvice, and their existence is kept hidden even from many in Sachaka itself. We would have been able to gather more intelligence on the Ichani if there had been any appetite from either King Amarika or King Merin to exchange ambassadors, of course, but it is too late to dwell on that," Akkarin replied, a touch of irritation in his voice. He clearly thought this diplomatic oversight had long been bad strategy on the part of the Kyralian king, but could not criticise Merin outright, Lorlen suspected.

"Forgive me, High Lord, but how do you know so much about these outcasts, if even our King does not?" Lord Osen asked. Lorlen frowned at the feigned politeness in his assistant's voice, but from the nods in the crowd, it was obvious that Osen had voiced what many were thinking.

"His Majesty is aware of their existence, Lord Osen," Akkarin replied smoothly, a touch of authority returning to his voice in that manner Lorlen knew so well. "There are some matters known only to myself, His Majesty and his closest advisors. But to answer your question – I myself learned of their existence by chance, during my travels and before my election. I have since received regular reports on their activities, as part of my duties."

Akkarin now turned to address the entire room, his piercing dark eyes holding each magician's gaze in turn. "I appreciate that many of you have questions. But every hour is now critical. Lord Balkan is in charge of our magical defence, and he will also be working closely with Captain Barran of the city guard who will evacuate the Inner Circle and the Palace."

Akkarin paused for a moment, almost hesitating for the first time. His eyes flickered once again to the back corner of the room, where Lorlen knew they were searching for Sonea. Then he turned to look at the Higher Magicians and Lorlen.

"In accordance with the ancient rights of the High Lord of the Guild, I declare magical martial law."

Lorlen glanced in surprise at Lord Balkan, but was reassured when he nodded slightly in encouragement. Magical martial law granted the High Lord decision-making power over all Guild magicians and Guild matters without consultation.

"I do not invoke this lightly," Akkarin continued, looking grave. "But time is of the essence, and I am the only one who knows enough of our enemy to determine the war tactics that will prove effective against them. I am also a Warrior by discipline. While it is my intention to work closely with Lord Balkan and the other Higher Magicians throughout the coming days, there are strategic actions that must be taken now, bypassing any discussion."

He looked at Lorlen expectantly. Lorlen amplified his voice slightly again to reach the whole room. "If any refuse to serve under this law, may they speak now or henceforth hold their peace," he spoke the ritual words he had read in books, but had never thought he would invoke in person throughout his Administratorship.

While there were some pale faces in the crowd, and a small number of displeased frowns, all remained silent.

"Magical martial law is implemented," Lord Balkan declared. "High Lord, what are your orders?"

Akkarin changed neither his demeanour nor his calmly authoritative tone of voice at this definite – and historic, Lorlen thought – shift in power. He looked again in the direction of the back of the room.

"Come, Sonea," he said quietly.

There were heated whispers as magicians looked around, some surprised, others angry. Many hadn't even noticed Sonea was still in the room, and now gazed at her suspiciously as she slowly walked up towards the High Lord, hands clasped in front of her and her gaze steadily on Akkarin. Only the faint tinge of colour in her cheeks betrayed the intensity of the moment for her.

"My Lords and Ladies," Akkarin began when Sonea stood by his side. "We have developed a strategy that exploits weaknesses in the methods and motivations of the Ichani. Our approach relies on killing their slaves before they reach Imardin to cut off their power source. We will then focus on separating the seven Ichani throughout the city, and focusing our combined attacks on them individually. This will minimise the chances of an open confrontation, which would force us into a battle of brute magical strength. That kind of confrontation would be a mistake, and it would cost the Guild precious lives."

"We?" The exclamation didn't seem to come from anyone in particular, but sounded like it was uttered by several in the crowd of magicians. Faces that were a moment ago grim but determined at the news of magical martial law had now turned incredulous.

"Are we to leave the defence of our Guild to novices…"

"Preposterous! We have Warriors with decades of knowledge of strategy…"

"Whatever next, consulting the servants on their opinion?"

The hall was abuzz with dissatisfaction, and Lorlen was hoping that Akkarin wasn't catching some of the more unsavoury comments about Sonea's origins that the boldest among the magicians were voicing, none too quietly, to their neighbours. But of course he is.

Akkarin watched the crowd calmly as they eventually settled down to hear him speak again. Only the tightness in his jaw and the slight narrowing of his dark eyes suggested that his patience was being sorely tried.

"Magicians." Akkarin's amplified, commanding voice echoed throughout the Day Room, jolting people into silence. Even Lorlen felt momentarily uncomfortable. The High Lord had never addressed them all in this way, with such palpable authority. But he now can, as we have all agreed to, Lorlen had to remind himself.

Akkarin continued. "I have been suspicious of the Ichani for some time. When the latest reports I received noted some unusual activity – capturing more slaves, travelling to meet other Ichani – I took the precaution of reacquainting myself with the Ichani's habits, methods and practices. My Consort– " the High Lord emphasised the word quietly to remind everyone that Sonea was no mere novice – "has joined me in this study for weeks. If there is any magician here who wishes to claim they have greater knowledge than her of the Outer Circle and the slums, I suggest they step forward now, as their insights would prove invaluable," he finished dryly.

There was some uncomfortable fidgeting and a few murmurs, but no one answered. Lorlen knew for a fact that almost all of the magicians in the room had lived a life between the Guild and the Inner Circle. They wouldn't know their Northside from their Marina, and most hadn't even set foot in the slums, where the majority of the population lived – unless it were to participate in the Purge.

"We have at most three days as the Ichani travel to Imardin on foot," Akkarin continued briskly. "Their cartfuls of slaves and supplies slow them down. Our first plan of action must be to ensure that they have no means of replenishing their power by the time they have reached Imardin." He turned to Lord Balkan. "Word must be sent, without mental communication, to evacuate the villages on the route from the South Pass and Imardin. Ambushes must be ready in Calia and Coldbridge to destroy their slaves and supplies. They are innocents, but it must be done."

He turned to Lord Sarrin and Lady Vinara. "I leave the preparation of the Healers and the urgent replenishment of medical supplies to you, Lady Vinara. Lord Sarrin, it will be imperative for our Alchemists to quickly prepare as much firepowder as possible for the ambushes. Lord Balkan?"

Balkan straightened, his face stern and disciplined. "All Warriors are expected an hour after dawn in the Arena, where I will brief you on the divide-and-attack tactics to be used when the Ichani reach the city. No one is to miss these drills. They will continue throughout the next two days, and I suggest you all sleep and eat well when and where you can. Everyone will need to be rested, alert, and at their full powers within seventy-two hours. Do not waste any magic on mundane tasks."

Akkarin nodded his agreement with the Head of Warriors. Then he fixed everyone with another piercing stare. "And no mental communication under any circumstances. I know this will be difficult, especially where family is concerned. But remember – we are being watched."

His final words seemed to echo ominously throughout the room. A sombre silence had fallen upon everyone.

Lorlen then nodded to indicate all were dismissed. Before anyone could waylay him with further questions, Akkarin held out an arm to Sonea, and they both strode towards the door. Sonea's face was no longer slightly embarrassed at the attention, but somehow older – determined, and perhaps even dignified, in its lack of fear.

The last of the magicians filed out of the Day Room, many of them looking much more calm and determined than when they first arrived. Lorlen was the last to step out, extinguishing the final globelights. He noticed the sky was beginning to carry the faintest traces of dawn, but he was lost in thought as his feet took him back to the Magician's Quarters.

How did I not notice this before, Lorlen wondered as he recalled Sonea's face when they were leaving. There is much more here than meets the eye. While this entire business of Akkarin claiming Sonea as his Consort looked, from the outside at least, like a powerful man had ensnared an impressionable young woman, tonight proved otherwise to anyone who was paying attention. What was it that Akkarin had said? She has joined me in this study for weeks.

The realisation suddenly leapt, unbidden, to Lorlen's mind. He has taught her black magic. They have been readying themselves for this. The thought momentarily stunned him.

He then felt a strange sensation of relief wash over him. The feeling was not his own; Lorlen looked down at the red ring on his finger.

– Come to my residence tomorrow morning, my friend. We must speak at last, Akkarin sent through the gem.