The Ambassador's Mission

CHAPTER 4

NEW COMMITMENTS



The trees and shrubs of the Guild gardens cooled and slowed the late summer wind to a pleasant breeze. Within one of the garden “rooms,” well shaded by a large ornamental pachi tree, Lorkin and Dekker sat on one of the seats arranged here and there for magicians to rest on. As the last shreds of his hangover began to ease, Lorkin leaned back against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. The sound of birds mingled with that of distant voices and footsteps – and the shrill sound of taunts and protests somewhere behind him.

Dekker turned to look at the same time as Lorkin. Behind them was a screen of shrubs and trees, so they both stood up to peer over the top of the foliage. Over the other side, four boys had surrounded another and were pushing their victim about.

“Stu-pid lo-wie,” they sang. “Got no fam-ly. Al-ways gri-my. Al-ways smel-ly.”

“Hai!” Dekker shouted. “Stop that! Or I’ll get you volunteered to help in the hospices.”

Lorkin grimaced. His mother had never been happy with Lady Vinara’s idea of punishing novices by making them help in the hospices. She said they’d never consider the work worthwhile or noble if they were expected to want to avoid it. But she never had enough volunteers, so she couldn’t bring herself to protest. Some of those sent to her for punishing had actually chosen the healing discipline because working with her had inspired them, but they were mocked quietly by their fellow novices.

The novices muttered apologies and fled in different directions. As Lorkin and Dekker sat down again, two magicians appeared in the entrance to the garden room.

“Ah! I thought I heard your voice, Dekker,” Reater said. Perler’s worried frown faded as he recognised his brother’s friends. “Mind if we join you?”

“Not at all,” Dekker said, gesturing to the opposite bench seat.

Lorkin looked from one brother to another, wondering at the reason for the frown Perler had been wearing. Reater seemed far too glad to have stumbled upon them.

“Perler got some bad news this morning,” Reater said. He turned to his brother. “Tell them.”

Perler glanced at Reater. “Not bad for you, I hope.” His brother shrugged and did not answer, so he sighed and looked at Dekker. “Lord Maron has quit. It’s going to take longer than he thought to fix his family’s troubles. So I’m not going back to Sachaka.”

“You don’t get to assist the new Ambassador?” Lorkin asked.

Perler shrugged. “I could if I wanted to. But …” He looked at his brother. “I have a few family matters to take care of, too.”

Reater winced.

“So who is going to replace him?” Dekker wondered.

“Someone said Lord Dannyl has applied.” Reater grinned. “Perhaps he wants to check out the local—”

“Reater,” Perler said sternly.

“What? Everyone knows he’s a lad.”

“Which doesn’t make it funny when you make crude jokes about it. Grow up and get over it.” He rolled his eyes. “Besides, Lord Dannyl won’t want to go. He’s too busy researching that book of his.”

Lorkin felt his heart skip. “He told me last night that his research was going slowly. Maybe … maybe he’s hoping to do some research there.”

Reater looked sidelong at his brother. “That change your mind? Ow!” He rubbed his arm where Perler had just punched it. “That hurt.”

“Which was the point.” Perler looked thoughtful. “It’ll be interesting to see if anyone volunteers to be his assistant. Most people might be willing to ignore Lord Dannyl’s ways, but risking speculation by offering to assist him is probably beyond most.”

Lorkin shrugged. “I’d go.”

The others turned to stare at him. Lorkin looked around at their shocked faces, and laughed.

“No, I’m not a lad. But Lord Dannyl has always been easy to get along with and his research is interesting – and worthwhile. I’d be proud to take part in it.” To his surprise, they continued to look worried. Except Perler, he noted.

“But … Sachaka,” Reater said.

“Would that be wise?” Dekker asked.

Lorkin looked from one to the other. “Perler survived. Why not me?”

“Because your parents killed some Sachakans a few years back,” Dekker pointed out in a tone suggesting Lorkin was stupid. “They tend to take exception to that.”

Lorkin spread his hands to encompass the Guild. “So did all magicians during the battle, as did the novices. What difference is there in that to what my parents did?”

Dekker opened his mouth, but nothing came out and he closed it again. He looked at Perler, who chuckled.

“Don’t look to me for support on this one,” the older magician said. “Lorkin’s parentage might make him a little more interesting to the Sachakans than other magicians, but so long as he doesn’t point it out all the time, I doubt he’d be in any more danger than I was.” He looked at Lorkin. “Still, I’d let the Higher Magicians decide that. There may be a reason why you shouldn’t go that they’ve kept to themselves.”

Lorkin turned to regard Dekker triumphantly. His friend looked at him, frowned, then shook his head.

“Don’t go volunteering just to prove me wrong.”

Lorkin laughed. “Would I do that?”

“Probably.” Dekker smiled wryly. “Or just to annoy me. Knowing what your family is like, you’ll turn out to be instrumental in convincing the Sachakans to give up slavery and join with the Allied Lands, and within a few years I’ll find myself actually teaching Warrior Skills to Sachakan novices.”

Smothering the urge to grimace, Lorkin forced a smile. There it is again. This expectation that I’ll do something important. But that’s never going to happen while I sit around in the Guild, doing nothing.

“That’ll do for a start,” he said. “Anything else?”

Dekker made a rude noise and looked away. “Invent a wine that doesn’t cause hangovers and I’ll forgive you anything.”


Stepping inside the University, Sonea and Rothen passed through the rear entry hall into the main corridor. It led directly to a huge room, three storeys high, within the middle of the building known as the Great Hall. Glass panels covered the roof, allowing light to fill the space.

Contained within this room was an older, simpler building: the Guildhall. It had been the original home of the Guild, and when the grander structure of the University had been built around it the old building’s internal walls had been removed and the interior turned into a hall for regular Meets and occasional Hearings.

Today’s gathering was an open Hearing, which meant that while only the Higher Magicians were required to attend, any other magician was free to do so as well. Sonea was both heartened and dismayed to see the large crowd of magicians waiting at the far end of the hall. It’s good to see so many taking an interest, but I can’t help doubting that many are in favour of the petition.

The Higher Magicians were hovering around the side entrance of the Guildhall. High Lord Balkan stood with his arms crossed and was frowning down at the man speaking to him. His white robes emphasised his height and broad shoulders, but also betrayed a softness and fullness where he had once been muscular. His duties as High Lord kept him away from practising Warrior Skills, she guessed. Not that magical battles kept a magician that fit, anyway.

The man he was frowning at was Administrator Osen. Sonea could not see the blue of the Administrator’s robe without remembering his predecessor and feeling a pang of guilt and sadness. Administrator Lorlen had died during the Ichani Invasion. Though Osen was as efficient as Lorlen, he lacked his predecessor’s warmth. And he had never forgiven her for learning black magic and joining Akkarin in exile.

Three other magicians waited patiently together, watching the rest and noting Sonea’s and Rothen’s approach. Sonea had grown to like Lord Peakin, the Head of Alchemists, in the last twenty years. He was open-minded and inventive, and as he’d grown older and settled into his role he’d revealed a wry sense of humour and compassion. Lady Vinara had survived the war and seemed determined to remain as Head of Healers for many years yet, despite advancing old age. Her hair was now completely white and her skin a mass of wrinkles, but her eyes were sharp and alert.

Seeing the Head of Warriors always roused a sour and uneasy feeling in Sonea. Lord Garrel had run the affairs of his discipline without scandal or major failure, and was always stiffly polite around her, but she could not forget that he had allowed and even encouraged his adopted novice, Regin, to torment her during their early years in the University. She might have been able to overlook that history if he wasn’t also linked with the Kyralian Houses’ clearing areas of the slums, involved in ruthless political manipulations, and rumoured to be profiting from dealings with Thieves.

How can I be judgemental, when I had a Thief in my rooms this morning? But Cery is different. At least, I hope he is. I hope he still has some principles – some lines he won’t cross. And I’m not involved in any of his business. I’m just a friend.

Near to the Heads of Disciplines stood three more magicians. Two were Heads of Studies, Lord Telano and Lord Erayk, and the other was Director Jerrik. The old University Director had barely changed. He was still the same grumpy, sour man, but he was now stooped and wrinkles had made his scowl permanent, even during one of his rare smiles. She had been called to his office more than a few times in recent years, Lorkin being the perpetrator as often as the victim of some novice prank that had gone too far. I’d wager he’s relieved Lorkin and his friends have graduated.

Rothen, as Head of Alchemic Studies, was clearly intending to join these three. It had always amused her how the Higher Magicians gravitated to those of the same rank. Yet as she caught sight of a figure striding toward them, wearing the same black robes as her, she felt no desire to do the same.

Black Magician Kallen.

After the Guild had elected new Higher Magicians to replace those that had been lost in the Ichani Invasion, they had long debated over how to tackle the issue of black magic … and her. They knew they must not lose the knowledge of it again, in case any Sachakans sought once more to overtake Kyralia, but they feared that anyone they allowed to have that knowledge might seek to take control of Kyralia themselves.

It had happened in the past, after all, when Tagin, the Mad Apprentice, had learned black magic and almost destroyed the Guild. The Guild of that time had felt they must ban black magic completely to prevent any individual abusing that power again.

Unfortunately, that had left the Guild and all the Allied Lands vulnerable to attack.

The current Guild’s solution had been to allow only two magicians to know black magic. One could prevent the other from seizing power. Each was charged with monitoring their fellow black magician, watching for any sign of evil ambitions. Servants were regularly questioned, their minds read, for any sign that the magician they served was strengthening himself, or herself.

Sonea had no choice but to agree. It was not as if she could unlearn black magic. She had been introduced to several of the candidates for the position of her watcher, and asked for her opinion. She hadn’t liked or disliked Kallen, whom she had not met before as he had been an Ambassador in Lan before the invasion. But the Higher Magicians had seen something in him that they liked, and she had soon discovered it was his unfaltering dedication to whatever purpose he was given.

Unfortunately, she was the focus of his purpose in the Guild now. While he was never rude, his scrutiny was unwavering and exhausting. It would have been flattering, if it weren’t so annoying – and completely necessary. It was a good decision. When I’m gone someone must replace me. Hopefully the Guild will choose well, but if it doesn’t then perhaps Kallen’s caution will save it.

Keeping her attention on Kallen, she watched him approach. He stared back at her, face impassive. She had not been as dedicated in watching Kallen as he had been at monitoring her. It was not so easy, when you had a son to raise and hospices to run. But she effected an air of attentive watchfulness whenever Kallen was around, hoping it would reassure the few magicians to whom it may have occurred that he needed monitoring as much as the former exiled slum girl who had risen to a powerful position too early and far beyond what she deserved.

A pause in the murmur of voices around her brought her attention back to Administrator Osen.

“Novice Director Narren is in Elyne and the King’s Advisers will not be attending,” he told them. “Since the rest of us are present, we may as well begin.”

The Higher Magicians followed him through the side entrance of the Guildhall and moved to their places. Seats had been built in steep tiers at the end of the room, the higher status positions at the top and the lesser at floor level. Sonea climbed to her place beside High Lord Balkan and watched as the doors at the far end were opened and the room filled with magicians. Two small groups gathered on either side of what was considered the front of the hall – the space before the Higher Magicians. One would be the petitioners, the other the opposition. The rest of the magicians moved to seats on either side of the hall.

Osen began the Hearing as soon as all were settled.

“I call on Lord Pendel, leader of the petitioners, to state their case.”

A handsome young man, whose father ran a large metalworking business, stepped forward.

“When allowances were made for men and women of the lower classes of Imardin to enter the Guild two decades ago, many wise and practical rules were set down,” Pendel began, reading from a piece of paper clutched in his hand. “But such an unexpected and necessarily rushed change to Guild practices included, not surprisingly, a few rules that have proven, in time, to be impractical.”

The young man’s voice was steady and clear, Sonea noted approvingly. He was a good choice as spokesman for the petitioners.

“One such rule states that novices and magicians must not associate with criminals or people of low repute,” Pendel continued. “While there have been cases where novices have deservedly been removed from the Guild and denied access to magic due to continued association with unsavoury individuals or groups in the city, there are many more cases where the interpretation of this rule has led to injustice. In the last twenty years the latter cases have shown that the general interpretation of ‘low repute’ includes anyone of common beginnings. This has unfairly kept fathers and mothers apart from their sons and daughters, causing unnecessary grief and resentment.”

Pendel paused to look around the room. “This rule paints the Guild as a hypocritical institution, as there have been no cases of higher-class magicians being punished for breaking this rule, despite them frequently being seen visiting gaming houses, brazier houses and brothels.”

He looked up at the Higher Magicians and smiled nervously.

“Despite this, we do not request that the higher-class magicians and novices be more closely watched and restricted. We only ask that the existing rule be abolished so that those of us born in the lower classes be able to visit our family and friends without penalty.” He bowed. “Thank you for hearing our petition.”

Osen nodded, then turned to the other small gathering of magicians standing to one side of the front.

“I call on Lord Regin, as speaker for the opposers, to come forward and respond.”

As a man emerged from the opposition, Sonea felt an old dislike stir. With it came memories of being taunted and tricked, of having her work being sabotaged, of being regarded as a thief after a stolen pen had been found in her possession, and of being the object of speculation when vicious rumours spread that her relationship with Rothen was more than just that of novice and teacher.

Those memories brought anger, but there were others that still made her shudder. Memories of being hunted through the corridors of the University, of being cornered by a gang of novices, of being tortured, humiliated and left magically and physically exhausted.

The leader of that gang, and mastermind of all her suffering in those early years at the University, had been Regin. Though she had challenged and beaten him in a fair fight in the Arena, though he had bravely risked his life during the Ichani Invasion, and though he had even apologised for all that he had done to her, she could not look at him without feeling an echo of the humiliation and fear she had once endured. And those emotions brought anger and dislike.

I ought to get over it, she thought. But I’m not sure I can. Just as I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling smug whenever one of the magicians from the Houses is introduced without his or her family name and title announced.

Along with the decision to accept entrants to the Guild from outside the Houses, it had been decided that family and House names would no longer be used during Guild ceremonies. All who became magicians were expected to risk their lives to defend the Allied Lands, so all should be shown the same level of respect. Since Imardians born outside the Houses had no family or House name, the habit of stating those names for those who did was abandoned completely.

If Regin felt belittled by the omission of his family and House name, he did not show any sign of it. He was not at all unsettled by the attention that turned to him either. He almost looked bored. He carried no notes to read from, but simply scanned the room once and then began to speak.

“Before considering if this rule should be changed or abolished, we ask that all remember why it was created. Not to prevent good people from visiting their family, or even to spoil a harmless evening’s entertainment, but to prevent magicians of any origin or standing being drawn into criminal acts or employment. The rule is a deterrent as much as it is a guideline for behaviour. To abolish it would be to lose a valuable motivation for magicians to resist those who seek to recruit or corrupt them.”

As Regin continued, Sonea regarded him thoughtfully. She remembered the young novice who had risked his life to bait an Ichani during the invasion. Since the Ichani Invasion he had been nothing but respectful around her, and occasionally he’d even spoken out in support of her.

So Rothen thinks Regin’s character has improved, she thought. I still wouldn’t trust Regin though, knowing what he was like as a novice. I’m sure, if he learned that I had met with a Thief who had snuck into the grounds of the Guild itself, he’d be the first to report me for breaking this rule.

“It is up to the Higher Magicians to interpret whether a character is criminal or of low repute, and we should leave it that way,” Regin said. “Instead of abolishing the rule, we should be more thorough and fair in investigating the activities of all novices and magicians.”

The annoying thing is, he has a point, she thought. Abolishing the rule will make it harder to stop magicians involving themselves in underworld plots. But the Guild is not applying the rule consistently enough to have much effect. It’s next to useless as a deterrent because the rich novices know it’s not going to be enforced in their case. If we get rid of it we’ll stop wasting time and attention on novices whose mothers are whores, and then, perhaps, we’ll start looking a bit harder at those magicians whose rich families have dealings with Thieves.

Regin finished and bowed. As he walked back to join the petition opposers, Administrator Osen stepped forward.

“This is a matter which will require much discussion and consideration,” he told the assembled magicians. “It is also not clear if the decision should be made by the Higher Magicians or by general vote. Therefore I am going to postpone a decision until I am convinced which course is best, and give all who wish to offer insight and information on the matter the opportunity to arrange a meeting with me.” He bowed. “I declare this Hearing over.”

It took Sonea several minutes to descend to the floor of the hall, as Lady Vinara decided to question her about the supplies the hospices were using. When she did finally extract herself she found Rothen standing nearby. As he stepped up to meet her, she felt her heart sink. He wore an expression she had not seen for a long time, but that she had learned to recognise instantly. The one he wore when Lorkin had got into some trouble.

“What has he done now?” she muttered, glancing around to make sure there was nobody close by to hear. The hall was all but empty now. Only Osen and his assistant remained.

“I just heard that Lord Dannyl has applied for the position of Guild Ambassador to Sachaka,” Rothen told her.

That’s all then. She felt relief flow through her. “That’s unexpected. Yet also not surprising. He’s been an Ambassador before. Has he finished his book, or abandoned it?”

Rothen shook his head. “Neither, I suspect. He’s probably going there in order to explore some new lead.”

“Of course. I wonder is he …” She stopped as she realised he was still wearing the expression of someone who had to deliver bad news. “What?”

Rothen grimaced. “Lorkin has volunteered to be his assistant.”

Sonea froze.

Lorkin.

In Sachaka.

Lorkin had volunteered to go to Sachaka.

She realised she had been gaping at him and closed her mouth. Her heart was pounding. She felt sick. Rothen took her arm and led her out of the Guildhall, then away from the crowds of magicians lingering to discuss the petition. She barely saw them.

Sachakans and Lorkin. They’ll kill him. No – they wouldn’t dare. But family are obliged to avenge deaths. Even the deaths of outcasts. And if not on the killer, then the offspring …

Determination filled her. The Sachakans were not going to harm her son. They weren’t, because she was not going to let Lorkin do anything so stupid and dangerous.

“Osen will never agree to it,” she found herself saying.

“Why wouldn’t he? He can’t refuse merely on the basis of parentage.”

“I’ll appeal to the Higher Magicians. They must know he will be in more danger than any other magician – and that means he’ll be a liability. Dannyl can’t spend all his time protecting Lorkin. And the Sachakans may refuse to deal with Dannyl once they know who his assistant’s father was.”

Rothen nodded. “All good points. But it could be that if you say nothing, Lorkin will have time to think about all the ways this could go badly, and change his mind. I suspect the harder you try to stop Lorkin, the more determined he’ll be to go.”

“I can’t take the risk that he won’t come to his senses.” She stared at him. “How would you feel, if you let him go and something happened to him?”

Rothen paused, then grimaced.

“All right. I guess we have some work to do then.”

She felt a wave of affection for him, and smiled.

“Thank you, Rothen.”


Dannyl looked around the dining room and sighed with appreciation. One advantage of relinquishing his room in the Guild and moving into a house in the Inner Circle had been the sudden possession of space. Though he now spent much of his income as a magician on rent, the indulgence of rooms was worth it. Not only did he have his own generous office, and this tastefully decorated dining room; he also had his own personal library and rooms for guests. Not that he had guests stay often – just the occasional scholar with an interest in Dannyl’s history. Tayend, on the other hand, had his Kyralian and Elyne friends stay over all the time.

What are Sachakan houses like? he wondered. I should find out before I leave. If I leave.

Administrator Osen had said he could not see any reason why Dannyl wouldn’t be given the position of Guild Ambassador to Sachaka, since he was well qualified and nobody else had applied for it.

I’ll miss this place, though. I’m sure there’ll be times I’ll wish I could grab a book from my library, or order my favourite meal from good old Yerak, or …

He looked up as footsteps sounded outside the room. There was a pause, then Tayend peered around the archway. His eyes narrowed.

“Who are you, and where is the real Lord Dannyl?”

Dannyl frowned and shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw your desk.” The scholar entered the room and stared at Dannyl with mock suspicion. “It’s tidy.”

“Ah.” Dannyl chuckled. “I’ll explain in a moment. Sit down. Yerak is waiting and I’m too hungry for explanations right now.”

As Tayend sat down, Dannyl sent a little magic toward the dinner gong, sending the ringer gently tapping on the disc.

“You went to the Guild today?” Tayend asked.

“Yes.”

“New books?”

“No, I had a meeting with Administrator Osen.”

“Really? What about?”

The door from the kitchens opened, saving Dannyl from answering. Servants filed in with steaming platters and bowls of food. Dannyl and Tayend filled their plates and began eating.

“What did you do today?” Dannyl asked, between mouthfuls.

The scholar shrugged, then related a story he’d been told by another expatriate Elyne that he’d visited that morning, about some Vindo roet smugglers who’d sampled their wares and been found delirious and naked beside a river.

“So what did Administrator Osen have to say?” Tayend asked when the plates had been cleared away.

Dannyl paused, then drew in a deep breath. I can’t put it off any longer. He looked at Tayend and made his expression serious.

“He said that there weren’t any other applicants for the position of Guild Ambassador to Sachaka, so it was very likely I’d be given the position.”

Tayend blinked, then his mouth fell open. “Ambassador?” he repeated. “Sachaka? You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

Looking away, Tayend’s eyes began to blaze with excitement. “I’ve never been to Sachaka! And there isn’t even a sea journey involved.”

Dannyl shook his head. “You’re not going, Tayend.”

“Not going?” Tayend turned to stare at him. “Of course I’m going!”

“I wish I could take you, but …” Dannyl spread his hands. “All visitors to Sachaka must be approved, either by the Guild or their king.”

“I’ll apply to my king, then.”

Dannyl shook his head again. “No, Tayend. I … I’d rather you didn’t. Firstly, it’s a dangerous country and while magicians and most traders return alive, nobody knows yet how Sachakans will react to a non-magician noble venturing into their land.”

“Then we’ll find out.”

“There’s also decorum to consider. As far as I’ve been able to discover, Sachakans are neither accepting of lads, nor in a habit of putting us to death. They consider us low status, however, and they often refuse to deal with people they consider too far below them in the social hierarchy. That’s not going to be helpful in my role, or in my search for historical records.”

“They won’t find out, if we’re discreet,” Tayend said. Then he frowned and turned to glare at Dannyl. “That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it? More research!”

“Of course. Did you think I’d suddenly manifested a desire to be an Ambassador again, or live in Sachaka?”

Tayend rose and began to pace the room. “It makes sense now.” He stopped. “How long does the position go for?”

“Two years, but I can return early if necessary. And to visit home.”

Resuming his pacing, Tayend tapped his chin with one finger. Suddenly he scowled.

“Who is going to be your assistant?”

Dannyl smiled. “Lord Lorkin has expressed an interest.”

Tayend’s shoulders relaxed. “Well, that’s a relief. He won’t have seduced you into leaving me.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Oh, Sonea’s son has quite a reputation among the ladies now – since that thing with that girl blew over. Probably highly exaggerated, as always. But there’s more than a few who’d like to find out for themselves.”

Dannyl felt a twinge of curiosity. “Really? So why haven’t they?”

“Apparently he’s choosy.”

Dannyl leaned back in his chair. “So will I have to keep an eye on him in Sachaka or not?”

A sly look stole over the scholar’s face. “I could watch over him. It would free you up to do your research.”

“No, Tayend.”

Anger and frustration crossed Tayend’s face, then he drew in a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

“You had better change your mind,” he said. “And you should also know that if you fail to change your mind I’ll …” He paused, then straightened his shoulders. “Then you might find I am no longer here, when you return to Kyralia in two years.”

Dannyl stared at his lover, suddenly unsure what to say. His heart had lurched at the threat, but something made him stay silent. Perhaps it was the fact that Tayend wasn’t trying to persuade him to stay. He only wanted the chance to go on another adventure.

The scholar gazed back at him, eyes wide. Then he shook his head, turned and strode out of the room.