The Ambassador's Mission

CHAPTER 28

QUESTIONS



The blindfold over Lorkin’s eyes itched, but each of his arms was being held by a Traitor.

“We’re stopping,” one of the women said, gently pulling him to a halt. “Now we’re going up again.”

The other woman let his arm go and he took the opportunity to scratch. He braced himself and felt his stomach lurch as they began to rise. After several heartbeats he felt the unevenness of the ground under his feet again. The woman tugged him into motion.

“Be careful, the ground slopes here. Duck your head.”

He felt a sudden coolness and guessed that they’d moved from sunlight into shadows. That wasn’t all. There was moisture in the air, and a faint smell of rotting vegetation or mould. His guide stopped.

“There’s stairs now, descending. Four of them.”

He found the edge with his toe, then cautiously stepped downward. The steps were wide and shallow, and from the way sounds were echoing he had entered a cave or room. The trickle of water came from a few strides away.

“It’s all flat from here.”

That wasn’t strictly true, he could tell as he walked. The ground was smooth, but there was a definite gradual incline. He listened to the sound of the group’s footsteps, and the flow of water. If they made any turns, they were too large and slow for him to detect.

The sound of wind, vegetation rustling and distant voices came from somewhere ahead. A few more strides and, from the way the noise surrounded him, he knew he was now outside. He felt the warmth of sunlight on his face and a breeze on his skin. He heard someone say Savara’s name.

Without warning, the blindfold was removed and he found himself blinking into the brightness of the midday sun. Before his eyes had adjusted, the Traitor who had been guiding him tugged at his arm, indicating he should continue walking.

Savara led the group, walking along a pathway beside tall, swaying stalks. He realised this was the edge of a crop, the large seed heads peeking out from the topmost leaves. The path ascended steeply and he found himself staring out over a wide valley.

Steep cliff walls rose on either side, meeting at the ends of the valley. Fields filled the floor, each at a different height, like disturbed tiles, but all level. The tiers of green stepped down to a long, narrow lake at the valley’s lowest point. Not one corner wasted, he thought. How else can they feed a whole city of people? But where are the buildings?

A movement up on the nearest cliff wall answered that question. Someone was looking out of a hole in the rock face. A moment later he realised that the entire wall was riddled with holes, from one end of the valley to the other.

A city carved into the rock. He shook his head in wonder.

“It was already here when we found the valley,” a familiar voice said, from beside him.

He looked at Tyvara in surprise. She had barely said a word to him since they’d joined Savara’s group.

“Of course, we’ve made it much bigger,” she continued. “A lot of the old part collapsed and had to be replaced sixty years after the first Traitors settled here.”

“How deep does it go?”

“Mostly it’s only one or two rooms deep. Think of it as a city half the size of Arvice, but more elongated, and tipped on its side. We have tremors here now and then, and parts collapse. Though we’ve got a lot better at judging if the rock is safe before making new rooms, then strengthening them with magic, people feel more comfortable living close to the outside.”

“I can understand how they’d come to feel that way.”

He could see, now, that part of the base of the wall was broken by sturdy archways, through which people were entering and leaving the city. Elsewhere there were smaller, more widely spaced openings. The arches suggested a formal, public entrance, and he was not surprised when Savara headed for them.

But not long after, she was forced to stop. A crowd had begun to gather. Many of the people were staring at him. Some were clearly curious, but others looked suspicious. Some were glaring in anger, but not just at him. Their attention was also on Tyvara.

“Murderer!” someone called out, followed by sounds of agreement here and there. But a few people frowned at the accusation, and some even voiced a protest.

“Move out of the way,” Savara ordered, her tone firm but not angry.

The people blocking the path obeyed. Lorkin read respect in their faces when they looked at Savara. She is definitely a Traitor to get on the good side of, he thought, as the group followed their leader to the arches and into the city.

A wide but shallow hall supported by several rows of columns spread before them.

“Speaker Savara,” a voice called. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned safely.”

The voice belonged to a short, round woman, who was walking toward them from the back of the hall. Her words had been spoken in a lofty tone. Savara slowed to meet her.

“Speaker Kalia,” Savara replied. “Have the Table assembled?”

“All but you and I.”

Lorkin felt something nudge his arm. He looked down at Tyvara. She mouthed something, but he could not make it out, so she leaned closer.

“Other faction,” she whispered. “Leader.”

He nodded to show he understood, then gave the woman a closer look. So this is the one who ordered me killed. She was older than Savara, possibly older than his mother, if the roundness of her face was smoothing out the lines a woman her age might normally have. The sharpness of her eyes and the set of her mouth contradicted her soft demeanour. They gave her a mean expression, he decided. But maybe his perception was skewed by the knowledge she’d wanted him dead. Maybe other people found her appealing and motherly.

Kalia’s gaze swept over the other members of Savara’s group and her nose twitched. Lorkin realised that the slave garb he and some of the others wore now looked out of place. Like the costume it is. Savara turned to two of her companions.

“Take Tyvara to her room and guard the doors.”

They nodded, and as they looked to Tyvara she stepped forward to join them. Without glancing at him or saying a word, she strode away. Savara looked at another of her people.

“Find Evana and Nayshia and have them replace Ishiya and Ralana as soon as possible.” She looked at the last two women. “Go. Get some rest and proper food.”

As the women left, Savara turned to Lorkin. “I hope you’re ready to answer a lot of questions.”

He smiled. “I am.”

But as she and Kalia fell into step either side of him, leading him out of the hall and into a wide corridor, he realised he did not feel ready. He knew that there was a queen here, but it was suddenly clear that Tyvara and Chari had neglected to tell him how power was divided below the level of royalty. He knew the women flanking him were Speakers, but he had no idea exactly how they fitted into the hierarchy, and he was feeling a fool for not asking.

Savara asked if a Table had been assembled. I’m guessing they don’t mean furniture. They’re both part of it, so I assume it’s some sort of group like the Higher Magicians. With someone directing the formalities and ceremonies, as Administrator Osen does at Guild meets.

Light in the corridor was subdued, but bright enough to illuminate the way. There was colour to it – colour that shifted and changed. He looked around, seeking the source, and realised that it came from bright points of light embedded into the roof.

Gemstones! Magical gemstones! He tried to make out their shape as he passed, but they were too bright to look at directly. They left spots floating before his vision, so he forced himself to avert his eyes.

The corridor was not long, and Savara and Kalia led him through a wide doorway into a large room. A curved stone table had been set at one end. Four women sat along the length of it, with two empty seats waiting. At the far end of the table sat a grey-haired woman, who had the same tired look about her that Osen always seemed to have.

She’s the Traitors’ version of the Administrator, I’d wager.

At the closer end was another chair, larger and studded with gemstones, and empty. The rest of the room was a large wedge shape, fanning out from the table. The floor had been carved into steps, on which cushions had been neatly spaced. For an audience, though there’s nobody here today.

Savara directed him to stand before the table, then she and Kalia took their seats.

“Welcome, Lorkin of the Magicians’ Guild of Kyralia,” the tired woman said. “I am Riaya, Director of the Table. These are Yvali, Shaiya, Kalia, Lanna, Halana and Savara, Speakers for the Traitors.”

“Thank you for allowing me into your city,” he replied, bending in a slight bow that he directed at them all.

“I understand you have come to Sanctuary willingly,” Riaya said.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Foremost, to speak in defence of Tyvara at her trial.”

“And why else?”

He paused to consider how to begin. “I understand that my father made a promise to your people that he should not have. If I can, I would like to settle that matter.”

The speakers exchanged glances. Some looked sceptical, others hopeful.

“Is that your only other reason?”

Lorkin shook his head. “Though I was only an assistant to the Guild Ambassador to Sachaka, I know that part of the role – part of the reason for having Ambassadors in the first place – is to seek and maintain peaceful links with other peoples. The Traitors are a part of Sachaka, so if we do not seek links with them we are neglecting an important section of the country. Even the little I know about the Traitors tells me that your values are more compatible with those of the Allied Lands. You reject slavery, for instance.” He took a deep breath. “If there is a chance that a beneficial link might be established between us I feel obliged to explore the possibility.”

“What possible benefit would there be for us in such an alliance?” Kalia asked, her tone full of disbelief.

Lorkin smiled. “Trade.”

Kalia gave a sharp, humourless laugh. “We’ve already sought honest trade with your kind, and regretted it.”

“You refer, of course, to my father,” he said. “I was told that Traitors agreed to teach him black magic in exchange for Healing magic? Is that correct?”

The seven women frowned.

“Black magic?” Riaya repeated.

“Higher magic,” Lorkin explained.

“Then that is true,” Riaya said.

Lorkin shook his head. “Only the Higher Magicians of the Guild, with permission from the leaders of the Allied Lands, could have made that decision. It was not my father’s right to offer you such knowledge.”

The women began to exclaim and speak all at once and, though Lorkin could not make out what all of them said, the general opinion was clear. They were angry, yet also puzzled.

“Why would he make the promise? Did he intend to break his word?”

“It’s obvious why he did what he did,” Lorkin said. “He was—”

But Kalia and the woman beside her were still talking, agreeing with each other – from the bits he caught – on how Kyralians weren’t to be trusted.

“Let him speak,” Riaya said, her voice cutting across theirs. The two women quietened. Kalia crossed her arms and looked at him with haughty expectation.

“My father was desperate,” Lorkin reminded them. “He had been a slave for many years. He knew his country was in danger. He probably felt his personal honour did not matter in the face of his country’s safety. And after years of … being a slave, how much dignity would you have left?”

He stopped as he realised he was allowing too much emotion to enter his words. “I have a question for you,” he said.

“You don’t get to ask us questions,” Kalia sneered. “You must wait until—”

“I would like to hear this question,” Savara interrupted. “Would anyone else?”

The rest of the women paused, then nodded.

“Go on, Lorkin,” Riaya urged.

“I was told your people had known my father was a slave for some time before you offered him this trade. Why did you wait until it was of advantage to you to offer that help? Why did you require such a high price for helping him, when you rescue your own people from such tyranny all the time?”

His last words were drowned in protests.

“How dare you question our generosity!” Kalia shouted.

“He was a man and a foreigner!” another exclaimed.

“The queen’s only daughter died because of him!”

“And hundreds more could have been saved if he’d kept his word.”

His gaze slid across their angry faces and he suddenly regretted speaking out. He needed to charm and woo these women, not anger them. But then his eyes met Savara’s. He saw her nod approvingly.

“Will you give us what your father promised?” Kalia demanded.

Instantly, the women quietened. They stared at him intently. They want Healing so badly, he thought. Why wouldn’t they? The desire to be protected from injury, disease and death is a powerful one. But they don’t realise how powerful the knowledge is. The advantage it gives over an enemy. How it can be used to harm as well as help.

“I am not authorised to do so,” he told them. “But I am willing to help you gain it, through negotiating an exchange with the Guild and the Allied Lands.”

“An exchange?” Riaya frowned. “For what?”

“For something of equal value.”

“We gave you higher magic!” Kalia exclaimed.

“Yes, you gave my father black magic,” Lorkin pointed out. “It is not new to the Guild, nor would they consider it a suitable exchange for Healing.”

Lorkin had expected more protest at this, but the women had fallen into thoughtful silence. Savara regarded him with narrowed eyes. Was that suspicion he read in them?

“What do we have that would be considered of equal value?” Riaya asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I only just got here.”

Kalia sighed loudly. “There is no point wasting time and energy fantasising about trades and alliances. Sanctuary’s location is a secret. We can’t have foreigners coming and going, for trade or otherwise.”

Riaya nodded. She looked at the women, then at Lorkin.

“We are not yet in a position to consider such matters as trade with the Guild. Did Savara warn you that you would not be allowed to leave if you came to Sanctuary?”

“She did.”

She turned to the speakers. “Do any of you see reason why this law should not apply to Lorkin?”

All shook their heads. Even Savara, he noticed. He felt his stomach sink.

“Do you accept this?” Riaya asked him.

He nodded. “I do.”

“Then you are now subject to the laws of Sanctuary. So you had better find out what they are and pay them the respect they deserve. This meeting is over.” Riaya looked at Savara. “Since you brought him in you are charged with ensuring he is obedient and useful.”

Savara nodded, then stood up and waved a hand to indicate he should follow. As they walked out of the room, Lorkin felt a strange gloom settle on him. He’d known there would be a price for following Tyvara to Sanctuary. Though he was prepared to accept it, a part of him still rebelled.

And then he remembered what Riaya had said. “We are not yet in a position to consider such matters …” Not yet. That did not mean “never.” It might take years for them to gather the strength and courage to venture beyond their mountains, but they would have to, if they wanted what the Allied Lands had to offer.

Although if they did steal gem magic from the Duna tribes, he found himself thinking, then I had better be very careful they don’t try to do something similar to me.

Anyi’s hand reached out to caress the fine leather of the carriage seat, then trace the gold inlay set into the edge of the seat’s wooden base. Looking down at the floor, Cery noted, with amusement, that the Guild symbol – a Y within a diamond – had been created with different inlayed timbers, all which had been polished to a rich shine.

“We’re here,” Gol said, his voice hushed with awe.

Cery looked out of the window. The Guild gates were swinging open. The carriage slowed as it passed through, then sped up again to take them to the front of the University. It stopped before the steps and the driver jumped down to open the door for them. As Cery climbed out, a figure in black robes emerged from the building.

“Cery of Northside,” Sonea said, grinning at him.

“Black Magician Sonea,” he replied, bending in an exaggerated bow. Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “This is Anyi,” he told her. “And you know Gol.”

Sonea nodded at his daughter. “I didn’t realise you were that Anyi,” she murmured. “But then, I hadn’t seen you since you were no taller than my knees.”

Anyi bowed. “Let’s not spread that about,” she said. “I’m Cery’s bodyguard, nothing more.”

“And that’s all that the Guild will know,” Sonea assured them. Sonea looked up at Gol. “You’ve got no taller since the other day, I’m glad to see.”

The man sketched a hasty bow. He opened his mouth and closed it again, clearly too overwhelmed by his surroundings to think of a witty reply.

“Come inside.” Sonea beckoned and started climbing the steps. “Everyone is looking forward to hearing your stories.”

Catching the dryness of her tone, Cery looked at her closely. He had been both pleased and dismayed by her summons to the Guild to identify the rogue, but she’d assured him that she had only referred to him as an old friend. There was a chance some of the older magicians would remember him from twenty years before, and knew he’d become a Thief but it was a slim one. But it was worth the risk if it meant his family’s murderer was found.

He also understood she was worried that the Guild would restrict her freedom more now they knew she had been roaming about the city without permission. The fact that she’d been associating with a Thief would not make things any better for her, despite the fact that this was no longer against any Guild rules.

While the hunt for the rogue was over, the matter was hardly settled as far as the Guild was concerned.

“How has the meeting gone so far?” he asked.

“There has been lots and lots of arguing,” she began.

“Of course.”

“Worse than usual. I always suspected that if a magician from beyond the Allied Lands wanted to live in one of our countries it would bring our laws into question. But I always assumed it would be a Sachakan magician.”

“Has the rogue told you anything about where she came from?”

“No. She’s refusing to speak. So is Forlie, though I think that’s more out of fear than stubbornness.”

They reached the top of the stairs and she led them through the entry hall full of impossibly delicate spiralling staircases that Cery remembered from his last visit, over twenty years before. Gol and Anyi both gazed around, their mouths open in astonishment, and Cery had to smother a chuckle. Sonea did not hesitate, but led them into a wide corridor. This finished at the huge Great Hall that contained the old building that was the Guildhall. A building within a building. Cery didn’t think Gol and Anyi’s mouths could open any wider.

“Will you read her mind?” Cery asked Sonea.

“I expect we will eventually. That’s part of what the arguing has been about. Since we don’t know anything about the place she came from we don’t know if reading her mind without her permission would be taken as an unforgivable abuse.”

“But you can’t find out where she came from without reading her mind,” Anyi said.

“No.”

“And that’s why we’re here. You need proof she did something illegal.”

Sonea had reached the doors of the Guildhall, which were slowly opening. She looked at Anyi and smiled crookedly.

“Yes. More than just using magic in self defence.”

As the doors swung wide, Cery caught his breath. The hall was full of magicians. It was a sight he suspected few non-magicians could see and not feel awed and intimidated. Especially when they considered all the magical power these magicians held.

Looks like they’re doing a good job of replacing the numbers they lost during the Ichani Invasion, he noted. The tiered seats on either side were full, but the rows of chairs in the centre of the room were empty. Which are for the novices, he recalled. That’s good. There’s likely to be more people from the low end of town among them, who might recognise me.

Sonea strode forward, black robes swirling. Following her, Cery glanced at Gol and Anyi, walking on either side of him. Both were averting their eyes from the watching magicians, keeping their gaze fixed on the scene ahead of them.

A magician in blue robes stood waiting at the far end of the room. The Administrator. This was a different man to the one Cery remembered wearing those robes long ago, before the Ichani Invasion. He was older than that man had been.

Behind the Administrator were more tiered seats. The Higher Magicians. Cery examined the faces. Some looked familiar, some did not. He recognised Rothen, the magician who had guided Sonea through her early years in the University. The old man met Cery’s gaze and nodded once.

Two women stood before the Higher Magicians. Cery recognised Forlie, who looked frightened out of her wits. The other woman turned to see who was approaching and Cery felt his heart skip.

Yes, that’s her.

As she glared at him, Cery’s blood went cold. In the dim light of the pawnshop attic, he hadn’t seen her too clearly, though enough to recognise her when he saw her the next time. And when he’d seen her in the street outside the shop, it had been at a distance. But here, under the bright glow of many magical globe lights, he noticed something he’d not had the opportunity to see before.

She had the same strange eyes as Skellin’s. They were of the same race.

That’s not something the Guild needs to know, he decided. Skellin would not appreciate me directing the Guild’s attention in his direction. Though I doubt Sonea failed to notice the similarity. She probably hasn’t told anyone because that would mean revealing she had enlisted the help of a Thief …

As Sonea stopped before the Higher Magicians, Cery, Anyi and Gol bowed. She introduced him and his bodyguards and explained that Cery was the friend she had spoken of, who had first seen the foreign rogue and brought the matter to her attention. As she finished, the Administrator looked at Cery.

“Firstly, the Guild offers its thanks for your assistance in capturing these rogue magicians,” he said. “Secondly, we thank you for helping us today.” He gestured to the two women. “Do you recognise either of these women?”

Cery turned to Forlie. “I had not seen Forlie until a few days ago, when she was caught.” He gestured to the other woman. “This one I saw a few months ago. Gol and I were after a murderer, and the clues we’d got led us to spy on a shop owner and his customer – this woman. We saw her use magic to open a safebox.”

The rogue was still staring at him, and as his gaze shifted to her she narrowed her eyes.

“Do you think this woman is the murderer you sought?”

Cery shrugged. “I don’t know. Magic was used in the murder. She has magic. But I have no proof that it was her.”

The Administrator’s attention moved to Gol. “You were there the night your employer spied on this woman.”

Gol nodded. “I was.”

“Was it as he described? Were there any details you noticed that he didn’t?”

“He got it straight,” the big man said.

Now the Administrator looked at Anyi. “And were you there?”

“No,” she replied.

“Have you observed this woman performing magic?”

“Yes. I first put eyes on her an hour or so before S— … Black Magician Sonea caught her. She was watching Forlie being caught. I thought it a bit odd. Then I saw her using magic to kill some birds that were making so much noise fighting they might’ve drawn attention to her. I knew she had to be a rogue, too, so I went to get Black Magician Sonea.”

The Administrator looked thoughtful, then regarded Cery, Anyi and Gol in turn. “Is there anything else you can tell us about either of these women?”

“No,” Cery replied. He glanced at his daughter and bodyguard. They were shaking their heads.

The Administrator turned to regard the Higher Magicians. “Any questions?”

“I have one,” the magician in white robes said. He must be the High Lord, Cery recalled. Sonea had told him the High Lord’s robes had been changed to white after it was decided the Black Magicians should, logically, wear black. “Have you ever seen anyone with the same physical characteristics as this woman?” The man gestured toward the rogue. “Aside from her gender, of course.”

“Maybe once or twice,” Cery replied.

“Do you know where those people came from?”

Cery shook his head. “No.”

The magician nodded, then waved a hand at the Administrator to indicate he had no more questions. Relieved, Cery found he was looking forward to leaving this place. He might be a powerful man in the city’s underworld, but he was not used to being scrutinised by so many people. A Thief works best unnoticed. Better to be known by reputation than by being the centre of attention.

“Thank you for your assistance, Cery of Northside, Anyi and Gol,” the Administrator said. “You may now leave.”

Sonea ushered them out again. Once the Guildhall doors had closed behind them, Cery let out a sigh of relief.

“Did that help?” Anyi asked.

Sonea nodded. “I think it will. They now have witness accounts of the woman breaking the law. The only magic she used within sight of magicians was arguably in her defence, when I captured her and took her to the Guild.”

“So if she has broken the law it is excusable to read her mind?”

“It was already.” Sonea smiled grimly. “But now they won’t feel so bad about it.”

“Will you do it?” Cery asked.

Her smile vanished. “It’ll either be me or Kallen. I suspect they’ll choose Kallen, since he’s had much less involvement in the search and hasn’t been disobeying rules.”

Cery frowned. “Are they going to give you trouble for that?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, her brow creasing with worry. “Kallen doesn’t seem too pleased. He hasn’t had the time to raise the matter so far, but he will eventually. Nobody else has brought it up, but I’m sure someone will.” She sighed and took a step back toward the hall. “I had better return. I’ll let you know what happens.” She paused, then smiled. “Oh, and Lorkin contacted me. He’s alive and well. I’ll tell you all about it another time.”

“Great news!” Cery said. “See you then.”

She waved, then pushed one of the doors open wide enough to slip through. Cery looked from Anyi to Gol. “Let’s see if the carriage is waiting for us.”

They grinned, and followed as he set off back to the front of the University.


When Achati, Dannyl, the other Ashaki and Unh reached the road, they found that the slaves they had sent ahead had the carriage and horses ready and waiting for them. The Ashaki helpers turned to face Dannyl and bid him farewell.

“You have our sympathy,” one of them said. “It must be annoying to have your assistant seduced away from you.”

“Yes,” Dannyl replied. “But at least I know he went willingly and is in no danger – or doesn’t believe himself to be. And … I apologise for his behaviour again. He led you all into danger unnecessarily.”

Another shrugged. “It was worth it for the chance to finally attempt to do something about them, or find their base, even if it led to nothing.”

“But … surely you could not have followed the Traitors much further without them being forced to kill you,” Dannyl said.

The Ashaki exchanged glances, and suddenly Dannyl understood their apparent lack of concern. They did not want to admit that they had been hopelessly outnumbered, or had failed in their task, so they pretended otherwise. In truth they had been well aware and fearful of the risk they had been taking. It would be rude to make them say so aloud, however.

“Well, Ashaki Achati tells me we got further into their territory than anyone has managed to go before,” he said, putting pride and admiration into his tone.

The Ashaki smiled and nodded.

“If you change your mind about retrieving your assistant, let us know,” the more talkative of them told him. “The king would not have much trouble gathering together a small army for the purpose. We are always looking for an excuse to weed them out.”

“That is good to know,” he assured them. “And much appreciated.” He turned to look at Unh. “I know he has good trackers to call upon, too.”

The tribesman inclined his head slightly, but remained expressionless. The Sachakans said nothing, then the quieter of them cleared his throat. “What do you think the Guild will do about Lord Lorkin?”

Dannyl shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But they’ll have to send me a new assistant. Hopefully they’ll be better at choosing one than I was.”

The Sachakans chuckled. Then the talkative Ashaki rubbed his hands together. “We had all best be on our way, then.”

So farewells were uttered and the Sachakans rode away. Unh nodded once at Dannyl, which was somehow more meaningful a farewell than the Sachakans’. The group’s passing stirred up dust as they left. Dannyl and Achati climbed into the carriage and Achati’s two slaves took their positions on the outside. The vehicle jolted into motion, and began swaying gently as it rolled along the other road.

“Now this is better,” Achati said. “Comfort. Privacy. The promise of regular baths.”

“I’m definitely looking forward to a bath.”

“I suspect our helpers are as keen to get home, despite the fact that they didn’t get a chance to rid Sachaka of a few Traitors.”

Dannyl winced. “I apologise again, for causing so much discomfort and risk for no reason.”

“It wasn’t for no reason,” Achati corrected. “You were obliged to search; I was obliged to help you. A young man could have been in danger. The fact that he wasn’t made our journey no less important.”

Dannyl nodded in gratitude for the Sachakan’s understanding. “I suppose I’m apologising on Lorkin’s behalf. I’m sure if he’d been able to tell us of his decision earlier he would have.”

“He may not have decided what he was going to do until just before he spoke to you.” Achati shrugged. “It was not a wasted trip. In fact, it has been educational, both in how Kyralians think and how you think. I made assumptions about your determination to find your assistant, for example. I thought it might … go beyond mere loyalty to a fellow magician and Kyralian.”

Dannyl looked up at Achati in surprise. “You thought we were …?”

“Lovers.” The man’s expression was serious now. He looked away. “My slave is young, good-looking and quite talented. He adores me. But it is the adoration a slave feels for a good master. I envied you your assistant.”

Unable to stop himself staring at Achati in surprise, Dannyl searched for an appropriate answer and found none. Achati chuckled.

“Surely you knew this much about me.”

“Well … yes, but I’ll admit I was a bit slow to notice.”

“You were preoccupied.”

“I gather you weren’t making any great assumption about me?”

Achati shook his head. “We make sure we know everything we can about the Ambassadors the Guild sends our way. And your choice of companions isn’t exactly a secret in Imardin.”

“No,” Dannyl agreed, thinking of Tayend and his parties.

Achati sighed. “I can buy myself a companion – in fact I have done so many times. Someone beautiful. Someone well trained in pleasing a master. I might perhaps find someone intelligent and witty enough to converse with, even be lucky enough to be loved by that slave. But there is always something lacking.”

Dannyl watched Achati closely. “What is that?”

The man’s mouth twisted into a lopsided smile. “Risk. Only when you know the other could easily leave you, do you appreciate when he stays. Only when it’s not easier on them to like you than not, do you appreciate it when they do.”

“An equal.”

Achati shrugged. “Or near enough. For a companion to be truly equal to me would restrict my choices too much. As the king’s envoy I am one of the most powerful men in the country, after all.”

Dannyl nodded. “I’ve never had to consider such differences in status. Though I suppose I might have, if my companion was a servant.”

“But a servant can leave.”

“Yes.”

“Do servants make good conversation?”

“I suppose some might.”

Achati flexed his shoulders, then relaxed. “I enjoy our conversations.”

Dannyl smiled. “That’s just as well. You’ve only got me to talk to between here and Arvice.”

“Indeed.” The other man’s eyes narrowed. “I think I’d enjoy more than just conversation with you.”

Once again, Dannyl was speechless. Surprise was followed by embarrassment, then was overtaken by curiosity, and not a little flattery. This Sachakan – who had just pointed out he was one of the most powerful men in the country – is actually propositioning me! What should I do? How do you turn someone like him down without being impolite or causing a political repercussion? Do I even want to?

He felt a shiver go down his spine. He’s younger than me, but not by many years. He’s good-looking in a Sachakan kind of way. He’s good company. He’s nice to his slaves. But oh, such a liaison would be politically dangerous!

Achati chuckled again. “I don’t expect anything of you, Ambassador Dannyl. I only express a view. And a possibility. Something to think about. For now let’s keep to conversations. After all, I would hate to have ruined our friendship by suggesting anything that you are uncomfortable with.”

Dannyl nodded. “As I said, I’m a bit slow.”

“Not at all.” Achati grinned. “Otherwise I wouldn’t like you so much. You’ve been preoccupied. Focused on one goal. That distraction is gone. You can think of other things. Like how long it will take for the Guild to choose and send you a new assistant.”

“I’m not sure anyone will be willing to volunteer for the position, after what happened to Lorkin.”

Achati chuckled. “You may be surprised. Some might come in the hopes of being snatched away to a secret place ruled by exotic women.”

Dannyl groaned. “Oh, I hope not. I certainly hope not.”