The Ambassador's Mission

EPILOGUE



With a final push of magic, Lorkin swept the last of the dust, hair, food scraps and unidentifiable particles into a small pile, then went to fetch a basket to dump it in.

A few weeks had passed since he’d taken up residence in the men’s room. It was a large room, filled with rows of narrow beds. Most were empty now, but from the possessions tucked under their frames it was clear nearly all had regular occupants. Though he knew most of the regulars’ names, there were a few who stayed for three or four days then disappeared for a few more that he’d not yet been introduced to.

“These beds are for men who don’t want to stay with their family any more, and who haven’t paired with a woman,” Vytra had told him. “There isn’t space for everyone to have their own room.”

“Are there women’s rooms?” Lorkin had asked.

“Sort of.” She had shrugged. “Sometimes friends and sisters share rooms.”

At first he’d been a novelty to the male Traitors, subjected to plenty of questions about Kyralia, how he had come to Sanctuary, and what he planned to do there. The latter he could not answer to their satisfaction. He could hardly tell them about his interest in Tyvara, and they scoffed at his plans to negotiate links between their people and the Allied Lands.

“You’re a magician,” one had pointed out. “Surely you’ll be given something to do that involves magic.”

Despite Savara’s assurance to the other Speakers that she’d find him work to do, he hadn’t been set any task or duty yet. So the men had given him the job of keeping their room tidy. They’d been surprised to discover he didn’t know how to, and were impressed that he’d had servants to do such menial tasks for him in the Guild. It didn’t get him assigned to any other task, however. They gave him some rough instructions, then left him to work it out for himself.

He’d asked plenty of questions in return, learning about the rules and laws of Sanctuary, including those subtle ones about manners and fairness that people set and stick to in order to reduce the conflicts that arise when living in close contact with each other.

As Chari had warned, Sanctuary was ruled by women. But while men were blocked from the highest positions of power, they were involved in all other activities in the city. The founders had decided that Sanctuary would be foremost a place where women were in charge, but beyond that it must be a place where people were equal. Lorkin was impressed to find that men had more freedom and respect here than women did in Kyralia. He’d been worried that Traitor society may be the opposite. It made him appreciate, in ways he’d never considered before, how unfair Kyralian society actually was to women. Though it was a lot better than some other societies – like Lonmar’s. And the rest of Sachaka’s.

Still, there were some notable ways that women were favoured over men here. Men were taught magic, but not black magic. Only women knew how to prevent a pregnancy, and all children belonged to them.

In the small storeroom off the main room – in which, he noted, even there, gemstones were set into the ceiling to provide illumination – Lorkin found what he was looking for. He grabbed a tightly woven basket from a stack and checked it for holes.

“It’s going to happen soon, I say.”

The voice was male and came from the main room. Lorkin hesitated.

“No,” another man answered. “It could take years yet before we’re ready.”

“But they’ve doubled the battle training sessions. We have more scouts out there than ever before.”

“And we’ve got hundreds of gems still only half grown. No war is going to happen until they mature, and that’s going to take months, if not a year.” The man sighed. “I’m hungry.”

War? Lorkin looked at the basket, knowing that if he hovered here and one of the men came into the store to get something to eat they’d know he’d been listening. He forced himself to walk out of the room, then straighten and smile as he saw them. They looked at him in surprise.

“Greetings,” he said, despite knowing they found the term of welcome odd. “You’re back early. Can I get you anything?”

The two men glanced at each other, then the one who’d said he was hungry started toward the store. “No, but thanks for offering.”

Lorkin began sweeping the rubbish into the basket. It was not easy getting the dust particles from the flat floor into the circular woven vessel, and he was concentrating so hard that he lost track of where the other men were.

“Lorkin,” a sharp, female voice said close behind him.

He froze. Which was better than visibly jumping, he decided as he recognised the voice. Straightening, he turned to smile politely at the woman.

“Speaker Kalia,” he replied.

She looked him up and down. He was wearing the simple trousers and tunic that the other men favoured – those that did not prefer the shift that both men and women wore.

“Follow me,” she said.

She turned on her heel and strode toward the door. Putting the basket down, he hurried after her. He glanced at the two men, who both grimaced in sympathy.

Kalia walked quickly for someone with short legs and a plump body. Lorkin found he took one step for every two of hers, yet she did not appear to tire. He imagined that anyone seeing them both would know instantly who was in charge. Definitely not me. Ah, how low I’ve sunk since leaving home …

Her pace and expression didn’t invite conversation, but this woman had wanted Tyvara executed. He was not going to let her intimidate him. Or, at least, he wasn’t going to let her know he was intimidated.

“Where are we going?” he ventured.

“Somewhere you can be put to work at more appropriate duties than cleaning your room.” She glanced at him; her eyes were sharp and calculating. “Here in Sanctuary we try to give people tasks to suit their temperament and talents. I’m not sure if the task I have for you will suit your temperament, but it definitely will suit your talents.”

Somehow she managed to quicken her pace even further, hinting that no more conversation was welcome. When they reached a large archway she stopped, her breathing a little laboured. She drew in a deep breath and let it out, gesturing at the contents of the large room beyond.

As in the men’s room, there were rows of beds. But instead of being empty at this time of day, plenty of these were occupied, with men, women and children. Familiar smells reached Lorkin’s nose, along with some he did not recognise.

The smells of sickness and medicines.

His stomach sank, but not at the presence of so many sick people. Instead, it was at the realisation that the Traitors had found the best way to avenge themselves on him for his father’s betrayal. And to test his own resolve to teach them Healing only if they gave something equally important in return.

“This is the Care Room,” Kalia told him. “You’ll be working for me from now on.”