Gol sat down and sighed. “What are we going to do?”
“Nothing,” Cery replied.
Gol frowned. “What if another murderer gets into the city?”
Cery looked at Savara and smiled. “I think we can handle it. I did promise Savara the next one.”
To his surprise, she shook her head.
“I cannot help you now. Not with Akkarin gone. The Ichani will suspect others are involved if their slaves continue dying.”
Cery regarded her soberly. “That would put them off sending them, wouldn’t it?”
“Perhaps. But my orders are to draw no attention to my people.”
“So. It’s up to us, now. How do you suggest we kill them?”
“I do not think you will have to. They have what they sent the slaves for.”
“So it was Akkarin they were after?” Gol asked.
“Yes and no,” she replied. “They will kill him, if they can. But now that they know the Guild’s weakness, it will be their target.”
Gol stared at her. “They’ll attack the Guild?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon. The Guild might have had some time to prepare if they had sent Akkarin away quietly. But they have told all the lands about him.”
Cery sighed and rubbed his temples. “The procession.”
“No,” she replied. “Though it was foolish of them to announce Akkarin’s crime and punishment publicly, it would have taken days or even a week or two for the Ichani to hear about it.” She shook her head. “The Guild magicians have been discussing Akkarin mind to mind for days. The Ichani will have heard everything.”
“Has the Guild got a chance?” Gol asked.
She looked sad, “No.”
Gol’s eyes widened. “The Guild can’t stop them?”
“Not without higher magic.”
Cery rose and began to pace the room. “How many Ichani are there?”
“Twenty-eight, but the ones you need to be concerned with form a band of up to ten.”
“Hai! Only ten?”
“Each of them is many, many times stronger than a Guild magician. Together, they can defeat the Guild easily.”
“Oh.” Cery crossed the room a few more times. “You said you’d have killed that Ichani woman on your own. So you’ve got to be stronger than a Guild magician.”
She smiled. “Much stronger.”
Cery noticed that Gol had turned a little pale. “What about the rest of your people?”
“Many are equal to, or stronger, than me.”
He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What would your people want in return for helping Kyralia?”
She smiled. “Your people would be no happier to accept my people’s help than Ichani rule. We, too, use what the Guild calls black magic.”
Cery made a dismissive gesture. “If the Ichani come, they might change their minds about that.”
“They might. But my people will not reveal themselves.”
“You said they didn’t want the Ichani in Kyralia.”
“Yes, that is true. But they will not intervene if it puts themselves at risk. We are just another faction in Sachaka, and one many powerful people fear and would destroy. We can only do so much.”
“Will you help us?” Gol asked.
She sighed heavily. “I wish I could. But my orders are to keep out of this conflict. My orders...” she looked at Cery, “are to go home.”
Cery nodded slowly. So she was leaving. He had guessed she would that night on the rooftop. It was not going to be easy saying goodbye, but he, too, could not afford to let his heart rule his head.
“When?”
She looked down. “Straightaway. It is a long journey. The Ichani will be watching the Kyralian border. I must go through Elyne. But...” She smiled slyly. “I do not see why leaving tonight or tomorrow morning will make much difference.”
Gol covered his mouth with a hand and coughed.
“I don’t know,” Cery replied. “It might make plenty of difference. For the sake of Kyralia, I ought to give turning your mind around a good go. With a little roasted rasook and a bottle of Anuren dark...”
Her eyebrows rose. “Anuren dark? You Thieves do better than I thought.”
“Actually, I’ve got a deal going with a few wine smugglers.”
She grinned. “Of course you have.”
At a knock on the main door to his rooms, Rothen sighed and extended his will. He didn’t bother turning to see who it was.
“Back again, Dannyl? You’ve spent more time in my rooms than your own since you arrived. Haven’t you got any rebels or secret missions to keep you busy?”
Dannyl chuckled. “Not for another week. In the meantime, I thought I’d catch up with my old friend before they send me away again.” He stepped into the half-circle of chairs in the guestroom and sat down opposite Rothen. “I guessed you wouldn’t be visiting the Night Room tonight.”
Rothen looked up to see understanding in Dannyl’s eyes. “No.”
Dannyl sighed. “I really ought to go. Face the gossips, and all that. But...”
It isn’t easy, Rothen finished. Dannyl had told him what Akkarin’s plan to catch the rebels had involved. Dem Marane’s claims about his captor had reached every corner of the Guild now. Though most magicians appeared willing to dismiss them, Rothen knew there were always some who believed any scandal that came their way.
Rothen had endured the same speculative and disapproving looks two years before when the Guild had questioned the appropriateness of Sonea staying in his rooms. Facing the gossips had been hard, but important—and having Yaldin and Ezrille to support him had also helped.
As I ought to support Dannyl now.
Rothen drew in a deep breath, then stood up. “Well, we had better move along, then, if we’re not going to miss the fun.”
Dannyl blinked in surprise. “I thought you weren’t...?”
“Like it or not, I’ve got two former novices to look after.” Rothen shrugged. “I’m not going to do either of you any favors moping away in my rooms.”
Dannyl rose. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Rothen smiled at the gratitude in Dannyl’s voice. He had been relieved to find his friend was, in private, still the same man he had always been. Dannyl didn’t appear to be conscious of it, but he adopted a different manner in public now. There was a new confidence and authority in his bearing that, when added to his height, gave him a formidable presence.
Amazing what a little responsibility can do, Rothen mused.
Dannyl followed Rothen out into the corridor, then down the stairs to the entrance of the Magicians’ Quarters. The sun was setting and the courtyard outside was bathed in red-orange light. They crossed to the Night Room door.
Inside, it was warm and noisy. Rothen noted how many magicians turned to note their arrival and continued to watch them. It did not take long before the first few stepped forward and the questions began.
For over an hour, he and Dannyl were approached by magicians who wanted to know more about the rebels. Rothen read both respect and curiosity in their faces and very little suspicion. Dannyl was hesitant at first, then grew more confident. After one group of Healers left, having finished discussing Vinara’s instructions on saving the rogue from poisoning, Dannyl turned to Rothen and smiled ruefully.
“I’m afraid I’m stealing all the attention from you, my friend.”
Rothen shrugged. “What attention? I’m hardly fending off questions about Sonea.”
“No. Perhaps they’ve decided to leave you in peace, for once.”
“That’s not likely. It’s just that—”
“Ambassador Dannyl.”