It was nearly time for her to leave for her morning class when Sonea heard the tapping at her bedroom door as she tied the sash of her brown robes. She sighed with relief. Her servant, Viola, was late and Sonea was craving her first cup of raka before starting the day.
"Come in."
Without looking up, she sent a thought at the door and willed it open.
Akkarin stood in the doorway, all but his pale face hidden in the shadowy corridor that always got little daylight. When he moved into the morning sunlight streaming into Sonea's room, she saw that he was carrying two large, heavy books. The cover of one was stained and tattered.
He did not smile, though his dark eyes were warm as he looked at her. Things were so changeable between them – formal one moment, intimate the next – that Sonea rarely knew if she should keep up appearances when they were alone.
She stood and bowed, her mind drifting to their… exhilarating activities the night before last. They had fallen asleep together in his bedroom. Akkarin had woken her up just at the pale, silvery light signalling dawn was near, so she could slip back into her own room well before any servants were up and about.
It had been…
It was hard to describe. It had both doused the yearning that ate away at Sonea, and rekindled it.
She had slept so peacefully. It had somehow felt right. But he was as inscrutable as ever, if somewhat mellowed out – at least compared to the dark mood in which he had returned from the Night Room, anyway. It felt like the rules were shifting all the time, and yet the High Lord did not make anything explicit.
He has asked you to call him by his name, Sonea thought. But she had not done so yet. Had he meant only when they were in bed? Or generally when alone in the residence together?
Sonea was brought back to the present when Akkarin asked, "have you finished the account of the Sachakan War I gave you?"
She nodded.
His dark eyes narrowed in interest. "And what did you make of it?"
"I… I can see why the true version of the War is not taught," she said evasively.
"Indeed. And why is that?"
Sonea paused, recalling the details. "The Guild then was very different from what we know today," she said. "Magicians took on apprentices in exchange for money or assistance. Kind of like the blacksmiths and shipbuilders in the Outer Circle today. Except…"
Sonea held his intense gaze steadily with her own, to show that she understood the gravity of what she had learned. "These early magicians strengthened themselves by drawing magic from their apprentices. So black magic – higher magic – was widely used."
Akkarin nodded and stepped past her, placing the books in his hands on her desk. "Today's guardianship system is a remnant of that apprenticeship tradition."
He turned back around to face her with seriousness, but he leant against the edge of the table, relaxed. His posture, as it always did when he unexpectedly behaved casually, transformed from that of an elegant statue's to that of a sensuous man's.
"But one magician, Tagin, went rogue and almost led to the destruction of Imardin," Sonea continued. "And so knowledge of black magic was buried."
Akkarin parted his pale hands as if to say, so now you know, the sleeves of his black silk robes billowing.
"Yes. The 'secret weapon' that was only to be used in the utmost of need. It was decided that the existence of black magic would be known of by the Head of Warriors only. He would not know its nature, but would pass the location of this book down to his successor," the High Lord said.
Sonea frowned. "But then, how…?"
Akkarin shrugged slightly. "Seventy years after Tagin's rampage, Lord Koril, then Head of Warriors, died in a practice bout at the age of twenty-eight. It is likely he did not have an opportunity to pass on the knowledge."
His eyes grew distant and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "I was always interested in history. Many sources in my reading suggested the existence of books about a 'weapon', hidden somewhere in the Guild. After more research and many years scouring the underground passages, I found them."
Sonea couldn't help but smile. She knew this was dark, dark knowledge – and that she shouldn't relish in it – but somehow it felt significant, being let in on it. Being let in on just a little bit more about the High Lord's life, and his youth.
"Is that one of the books you've brought?" She asked, eyeing the old tome he had placed on her desk.
Akkarin crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes boring into hers. "To learn about black magic is to break a Guild law. I would not give you any books that contain instructions." His voice quietened, and seemed tinged with bitterness. "I know what it is like to have knowledge you never asked for thrust upon you."
Sonea looked at his angular face intently, noticing the shadow of a day's stubble on his jaw. Lines creased his forehead as he frowned at the memory that had taken hold of him momentarily.
"But if you didn't know black magic, Harikava's power would have blasted through us when he died," she said quietly. "And the old Guild used it for centuries. Until Tagin went rogue."
"It only takes one." Akkarin's brows furrowed. "My intention in showing you these books isn't to absolve black magic. It's to help you make sense of what you will see when you mind-read the next assassin."
Sonea's heart leapt to her mouth. "You've caught another one?"
The High Lord nodded grimly. "He is drained of power. But he is being kept alive, on my orders. I will take you to him tonight."
Sonea nodded, her black eyes wide. "Shall I save my power in classes today?"
"No – do nothing different. Don't arouse suspicion," he said. He gave himself a slight push away from her desk and stood tall. "I'll see you back here tonight at the dinner gong."
Her gaze glittering with eagerness at the prospect, Sonea said, "I'll be here."
The High Lord's eyes fleetingly had that haunted look again. "You may… learn much tonight. Things about my past that may… change things between us."
A pronounced silence stretched between them after the last word. So there is an 'us', Sonea thought. His words arose both unease and anticipation within her. What could he mean? Would she discover something terrible during this mind-read?
I've seen enough for myself to know he isn't evil, she thought with determination.
"One thing I learned early in the slums," Sonea began quietly, "is that there's very little in this world either only dark, or only light. The sun makes shadows."
Akkarin's dark gaze held hers steadily, seriously, with an unmistakably touch of esteem.
"Indeed," he murmured. Then the High Lord's lips curled up at the corner into his half-smile. "Until tonight."
He did not wait for a bow – and Sonea did not bow – as he glided past her and out of her bedroom in a billow of black robes.
—-
"Are you sure about this, Master?" Takan's amber eyes glinted with concern.
Akkarin pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, trying to keep a headache at bay. "As sure as we ever could be, Takan."
He hadn't slept much the previous night. First, he had fought and drained the slave of magic. Then an hour or so of speaking to, and bribing, the necessary people had followed, with the Thief Ceryni. A ramshackle room in a stayhouse in the slums had finally been secured, and a rota of guards had been determined. By the time the High Lord had returned to his residence through the underground passages, the Eye was setting in the sky and a steely dawn glow was lighting the East.
His servant silently poured and offered Akkarin a glass of water from the jug on the mantlepiece of the library. After he had drank down several gulps, the High Lord's eyes grew cold.
"They have reverted back to sending slaves. Harikava's death must have Kariko treading carefully. There will be some internal politics among the Ichani to distract him for a while. Harikava was relatively wealthy and powerful. I doubt his brother-in-law, Ichiko, is all that pleased to hear Kariko sent him to his death," Akkarin mused.
Takan sighed heavily. "They will be all the more eager for vengeance."
"Not necessarily," the High Lord said, leaning back in his leather armchair. "Ichiko is influential. Harikava's demise may have kindled some tension between him and Kariko. The longer they are divided amongst themselves, the longer an invasion will take."
A dark look crossed Takan's usually calm features. "Kariko probably couldn't convince another Ichani to venture to Kyralia for now. So he sends… what do you call it? Bakuira."
Akkarin winced slightly as he recognised the Sachakan word he hadn't heard for years. It was often used by the Ichani to refer to slaves with little power. "It looks to be so. We don't have a word for that in Kyralian, but I suppose it could translate as… fodder."
The two men sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, only the gentle crackle of the wood in the grate audible.
After a while, Akkarin tapped his fingers on the armrest and frowned. "Now, where has my novice got to?"
Takan started, as if pulled out of memories a million miles away. "The gong marking the end of evening classes sounded just as I came up here, Master."
The High Lord frowned and stood up. "Ample time for her to make her way from the University to the residence. It is not like her to take this evening's task lightly."
Takan's gaze was a little too knowing as he took in his master's concern. "Shall I ask Viola to fetch her?"
"No… no, it would attract unnecessary attention. I will find her," Akkarin muttered, walking to the decanter on the mantlepiece.
Takan made to stand up to serve him, but he sat back down from a hand gesture from the High Lord. He poured himself a glass of light pachi wine and sat back down in his armchair in a swish of black robes.
Akkarin took a sip, then his gaze grew unfocused as he drew his senses into his magic, then outward from his mind and into the minds he could detect throughout the Guild grounds.
A light touch as always, free of his personality or emotions; his consciousness floated from person to person. He focused his senses in the direction of the University first. A few in the Novice's Library… Lord Peakin still in the Alchemic store cupboard… Where was she?
Akkarin set aside his glass of wine and his face darkened. Takan sat on the edge of his seat nervously, watching him. The High Lord closed his eyes and concentrated again.
He sent out his senses towards the baths next, but knew almost immediately Sonea's rolling, sea-like power was not in that building. His senses swept the grounds around the residence in case she was on the garden path. Nothing.
Akkarin now had to take particular care to withhold his personality from his magical probing, as it grew harder to hide the less relaxed he was. When that happened, it became ever more likely a magician would notice someone inside their mental barriers.
Releasing a slow breath, he closed his eyes and sent his senses out to the Arena, the Seven Arches, and even the forest. Sonea was nowhere to be found. The Magician's Quarters were off limits to novices, but Akkarin decided to sweep it as a last resort.
A low hiss escaped the High Lord. Takan leapt to his feet.
His master did not move. He just continued to sit, dark eyes open but unfocused on the wall in front of him. His long, pale fingers grasped his armrest, nails digging into the leather. The servant hesitated to break his concentration, however much these signs worried him.
Akkarin could feel his own magical presence growing too defined, too strong, in the mind of the servant he had entered. The emotions that arose at the sight that filled his mind through the eyes of his host almost made his presence known. The High Lord quickly withdrew his presence for a moment and recovered that quality of intangible lightness. Breathing steadily, he once again slipped behind the servant's mental barriers.
The servant was in the Administrator's suite of rooms in the top floor of the Magician's Quarters, tidying the sitting room. The door was open, and through her, Akkarin could see Lorlen approaching in the corridor. Following behind him was Sonea.
"Ah. Hello Helena," Lorlen said as he walked in. Sonea hovered at the doorway, wringing her hands impatiently. She was clearly eager to be off. But Lorlen beckoned her inside with a finger.
"Good evening, Administrator. Would you and your guest like any refreshments?" the servant, asked.
Sonea walked inside reluctantly and stood near the door.
"No, thank you – this won't take long," Lorlen replied with an air of boredom. "Please do retire for the night."
The servant curtsied and, to Akkarin's irritation, promptly walked out of the room with a "Goodnight, Administrator." The door of Lorlen's suite shut behind her.
He withdrew from her mind and brought his attention back to his surroundings. Takan was gazing at him with concern.
"She is in the Guild grounds," he murmured, which drew a sigh of relief from his servant. But he soon realised his master's jaw was set tight in anger and he could see the pulse in his neck.
"Then what is the matter? Where –"
Akkarin held up a hand to cut Takan off. He focused his senses once more, this time probing for the blood gem connection between himself and Lorlen. What he found made the High Lord's heated temper grow dangerously cold. The Administrator had removed his ring.
He had summoned Sonea to his private rooms, and he had dared remove his ring.
"You are playing with fire, Lorlen," the High Lord muttered under his breath.
He suddenly stood up. He could not risk entering either Lorlen's or Sonea's mental barriers from a distance. He was no longer in a state of mind where he could sufficiently hide his presence. That left only one option.
"Prepare our cloaks and wait for me in the basement room. I will return with my novice shortly," Akkarin instructed, his dark eyes flashing. As he strode out of the library, Takan knew better than to ask for an explanation.
The distance between the residence and the entrance of the Magician's Quarters passed in a blur, the grounds as dark and cold as the magic coursing through the High Lord's limbs. Akkarin's heart was pounding. He wasn't just angry, he realised. He was – as unfamiliar as it was – feeling a rising sense of panic.
Why, why had she followed him to his rooms? Had she lied to him? And, worst of all, had the High Lord's own idea led to this – had he used Sonea to entrap Lorlen, only for it to work both ways?
He shook his head, his hands were curled into fists. No. She cannot hide her mind from me, he thought. He knew Sonea's thoughts had never strayed to Lorlen in that sense.
Akkarin strode through the grand doors of the Quarters and up the large marble staircase. It was past the hour for dinner in the Guildhall, so the building was mostly quiet. The occasional magician in his path moved away swiftly, and several polite good evenings trailed off when they saw the High Lord's face.
Would Lorlen dare attempt to extract his price? He was the last man Akkarin could imagine coercing an unwilling woman. But the man you knew has changed, a voice in his head said. He scowled as he remembered the very different Lorlen of their argument outside the Night Room two days ago.
He reached the door of the Administrator's suite of rooms, but paused outside it. There were no other magicians' rooms on the top floor. The total silence of the corridor allowed Akkarin to clearly hear the voices on the other side of the door.
"Administrator, I apologise, but I really must go. Perhaps this could wait until tomorrow?" Akkarin heard Sonea's low voice.
"Is there somewhere you need to be? At this late hour?" came Lorlen's nonchalant reply.
"No, I… It's just that… I have a Healing assignment I need to finish before I retire for the night. It's due tomorrow morning," Sonea said haltingly, sounding like she was pulling the first thing that came to her head out of the air.
There were the sound of three slow footsteps.
"I think you know why you are here," Lorlen murmured, his voice lowering.
Akkarin kept completely still, however much his blood thrummed in his head.
"I don't, Administrator," Sonea replied.
Lorlen scoffed quietly. "And yet you seem to know everything, don't you? You knew his secret. You know he is the murderer, I'm sure. And you certainly knew what you were doing, with your shameless behaviour."
"I must go, Administrator," came Sonea's muffled reply, like she was speaking to the floor.
Akkarin heard the rustle of silk robes.
"So forthcoming in your guardian's presence, but not without him, is that it?" Lorlen said in a cutting tone. "Or perhaps not without coin. Did the High Lord pay you to seduce me, that night?"
Sonea's voice was now an indignant whisper. "He did not!"
"Receiving gold in exchange for… carnal favours… merits immediate expulsion from the Guild. Did you know that, Sonea?"
"I – I have never done that in my life," Sonea hissed. "You know! You read my mind at Fergun's trial."
"Yes. Almost two years ago, now. We both know you have been up to much since then," Lorlen replied frostily. "If I were to bring this to the Higher Magicians' attention… Well, the only way to prove your innocence would be to submit to a mind read. And out would come the High Lord's dark secrets."
Sonea's voice had lost its anger, and now sounded worried. "Administrator, please… Don't tell them…"
A pause. Then Lorlen lowered his voice even further. "Whether or not I tell them is up to you, Sonea."
"Me?"
"Yes. What are you willing to do to protect your guardian's secrets?" Lorlen murmured, the implicit meaning unmistakable.
He had heard enough. At that moment, Akkarin opened the door silently with magic and glided into the room like an ominous black shadow. As a precaution, he immediately locked the door behind him and sound-shielded the room.
Lorlen and Sonea were standing a hand span apart in the sitting room. The Administrator turned to face Akkarin when he entered, his eyes widening. Then the colour in his face rose, and he scowled at the black-robed magician. Sonea took a step back and paled as she looked at Akkarin with a mixture of relief and nerves.
"My favourite is willing to do much to protect my secrets, Lorlen," Akkarin said smoothly and quietly. "But there are some things I will not suffer her to do."
Feeling vastly more enraged than the surface calm he was exuding, the High Lord unlocked the door magically. "Wait for me outside, Sonea."
"Yes, High Lord," she breathed, some of the tension leaving her face as she quickly walked out and shut the door behind her.
Akkarin slowly turned to face the cornered, but still angry, blue-robed magician in front of him. His best friend. Once.
"Consider this your final warning," the High Lord said icily. "Next you speak to her, I will know."
Lorlen's hazel eyes looked daggers into his. "You are not untouchable. Sooner or later, the Guild will find out its leader has blood on his hands."
Akkarin grew still for a moment at the truth in his words, however much Lorlen had the details wrong.
Oh, let them all burn, came the bitter thought suddenly. Let them deal with the next Ichani themselves, and see what I have been doing all these years.
As his eyes bored into the fiery ones of the Administrator, it was Sonea's face that came to the surface of his thoughts. Her radiant face after her victory in the Arena against Regin. Black eyes glinting and cheeks flushed with tell-tale signs of the happiness she had carefully contained in the presence of the Higher Magicians.
She is yours to protect. Would you abandon her, and everyone in this Guild who taught you, to their fate? replied an accusatory voice in his head.
Akkarin turned to leave, conflicted and bitter. Better he is alive and hating me, than dead or worse.
He threw the Administrator one final glance over his shoulder. The High Lord's voice grew silky and threatening. "Did you know blood gems can be placed under the skin, Lorlen? Rarely are they rings, in fact. If you remove yours again, I will assume you prefer the first method."
The Administrator paled as Akkarin turned around and glided out of the room, shutting the door silently.
—
He reached down and picked up the dark bundle from the table. "Put this on."
Sonea searched his face for some hint of his thoughts, but his dark eyes were steady and his features suggested nothing of the charged encounter they had just had in the Magician's Quarters. She stared at the bundle in his hands for a moment, then reached for it.
Suddenly, Lorlen's threat rang in her ears. "The only way to prove your innocence would be to submit to a mind read. And out would come the High Lord's dark secrets."
Sonea unrolled the bundle to find a faded but warm winter cloak typical of someone from the Outer Circle. She hesitated. I am about to read an unwilling mind. And witness him kill again.
But surely what she knew even two years ago had been enough to condemn him? Knowing more won't make a difference in the eyes of the Guild, should they find out. But it could mean I may one day be able to help him, she thought.
Taking hold of the clasp, she swung the garment around her shoulders and fastened it.
"Keep your robes well covered," Akkarin instructed. He picked up the lantern and strode toward the wall that Sonea knew opened into the underground passages.
Akkarin entered the passage, turned and beckoned to her. Sonea took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Walking to the opening, she followed him into darkness.
The lantern wick spluttered and a flame appeared. She wondered briefly why he bothered with an ordinary light source, then realised that he intended them both to remain disguised as non-magicians.
As she expected, he led off in the opposite direction to the University. After they had walked in silence for some minutes, Sonea looked up at the tall, dark-cloaked shoulders in front of her.
"The Administrator was there at the end of my class. He bid me follow him. I could not refuse," she said quietly.
Her guardian neither broke his stride nor replied.
"I could not disobey the Administrator in front of Lord Sarrin," Sonea whispered. "Please… Akkarin."
His stride slowed momentarily, but he did not turn around. "Now is not the time," he replied, his voice strangely gravelly.
Sonea looked down, morosely following him down the cold passage a few more paces. She sensed the vibration of a barrier blocking the way. A faint ripple of light flashed across the passage as the barrier dissipated. The High Lord continued on without speaking a word.
When he stopped again they faced a fall of rocks and earth where the roof had caved in. She looked at him questioningly.
His eyes glittered in the lamplight. He stared at the blockage intently. A dry scraping sound filled the passage as stones crumpled inward to form rough stairs. A hole appeared at the top. Akkarin set his foot on the first tread and began to climb.
Sonea followed. At the top was another passage that looked vaguely familiar. She bit down a gasp. The Thieves' Road.
A boy of about fifteen winters appeared, with hard eyes. He gestured for silence. Their guide set a rapid pace, taking them on a long journey through a twisting, complex labyrinth of passages.
As the unmistakeable smell of the slums reached her nose, Sonea's mind began to let go, for now, of the earlier confrontation. Her heart began to pound in nerves and excitement at where the night would now take her, and what she may find out.