“Kill him, Avala. You’ll find other pretty men in Imardin.”
Avala pouted, then shrugged. She pulled out a knife and slashed it across Fergun’s throat. His eyes widened and he tried to pull away, but he was clearly too weak to break her hold. She slapped a hand over the cut and he went limp. After a moment the woman let go and he slumped to the ground.
She stepped over his body and approached Makin, though her eyes were fixed on the Sachakan behind him.
“So where next?”
“Imardin,” Kariko replied. The knife pressed harder against Makin’s throat. “Now listen, magician. Tell your Guild I will see them soon. If they open the gates for me I might let them live. Well, some of them, anyway. I expect a big welcome. Gifts. Slaves. Gold...”
The knife moved. There was a flash of pain...
Lorlen gasped as his awareness returned abruptly to his surroundings. We just lost twenty magicians in less than an hour! Twenty of our finest Warriors...
“Sit down, Administrator.”
Lorlen looked up at the King. His voice had been unexpectedly kind. He allowed himself to be ushered to a chair. The King and his Advisors took the seats on either side.
The ruler rubbed his forehead and sighed. “That was not the way I would have chosen to learn that Akkarin’s claims were true.”
“No,” Lorlen agreed. Memories of the battle still flashed through his thoughts.
“I must make a choice,” the King continued. “Either I allow one or more magicians to learn black magic, or I ask Akkarin to return and help us. Which would you choose, Administrator?”
“I would call Akkarin back,” Lorlen replied.
“Why?”
“We know he spoke the truth.”
“Do we?” the King asked quietly. “He may have given us only part of the truth. He could have formed an alliance with these magicians.”
“Why would he send a message warning of their attack?”
“To fool us. He said they would attack in a few days, not today.”
Lorlen nodded. “He might simply have been mistaken.” He leaned forward and met the monarch’s gaze. “I believe Akkarin is honorable. I believe he would leave again after helping us, if we asked him to. Why have one of our own learn black magic, who we could not then justify sending away, when we can call on someone who already has that skill?”
“Because I don’t trust him.”
Lorlen felt his shoulders slump. There was no arguing with that.
“I have put this question to your Heads of Disciplines,” the King said. “They agree with me. Lord Sarrin is my preference, but I will not make that decision for the Guild. Put it to a vote.”
He rose and walked to the open door of the balcony.
“There is another, more practical reason for my choice,” he continued. “Akkarin is in Sachaka. He may not be able to reach us in time. Lord Sarrin believes Sonea learned black magic in a week, despite lessons and other activities taking up her time. If a magician dedicates all his or her time to the task, he should learn it faster. I—” A knock at the door interrupted him. “Enter.”
A boy hurried inside and dropped to one knee.
“Lord Balkan to see you, Your Majesty.”
The King nodded and the boy hurried out. Balkan strode in and knelt before the King.
“At ease.” The King smiled grimly. “A well-timed visit, Lord Balkan.”
“I thought you might want to speak to me, Your Majesty,” Balkan replied as he stood up. He glanced at Lorlen and nodded politely. “You have heard that the Fort has fallen?”
“Yes,” the King replied. “I have decided that one magician must be allowed to learn black magic. The Guild will nominate candidates and choose one by vote. If the Sachakans draw close to Imardin before the magician you select has learned black magic, the reinforcements you sent to the Fort will engage them.”
Lorlen stared at the monarch. He was sending those magicians to their deaths. “We need them here, Your Majesty, so that the magician who is chosen can increase his or her strength as quickly as possible.”
“You will not order them to attack the Sachakans until it is clear we require the delay.” The King turned to Balkan. “Can you suggest any strategy that might otherwise slow or weaken the enemy?”
The Warrior nodded. “We can take advantage of the city’s defenses. Every obstacle the Sachakans overcome will use up some of their strength.”
“What of the Guard? Can they be used?”
Balkan shook his head. “I fear they would be easily turned against us.”
The King frowned. “How so?”
“Any non-magician with latent magical ability is a potential source of strength. I recommend keeping all non-magicians well out of the way.”
“Perhaps I should send them out of Imardin.”
Balkan paused, then nodded. “If that is possible.”
The King gave a short laugh. “Once the news spreads that several Sachakan black magicians are about to attack Imardin, the city will empty itself without any urging from me. I will employ the Guard to keep order, and to ensure that any ship leaving the Marina carries a reasonable number of evacuees, then I will send them away. Do you have any other recommendations?”
Balkan shook his head.
“Stay with me. I want you to discuss fortification with the Guard.” The King turned to regard Lorlen. “Administrator. Return to the Guild and arrange the selection of a black magician. The sooner he or she begins, the better prepared we will be.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Lorlen rose, knelt, then strode out of the room.
“What will you do now?”
Rothen turned to regard Raven. The spy’s expression was grim.
“I don’t know,” Rothen confessed. “Obviously, I don’t need to enter Sachaka now.”
“But finding out if the Ichani exist was not your only reason for going. You might still search for Sonea.”
“Yes.” Rothen looked away to the northeast. “But the Guild... Kyralia... will need every magician it has to fight these Sachakans. Sonea... Sonea might need my help but helping her won’t save Kyralia.”
Raven watched Rothen silently and expectantly. Rothen felt a pain in his chest, as if his heart were being pulled in two directions.
The Ichani exist, he thought. Akkarin wasn’t lying. Sonea hasn’t been deceived. He felt a flood of relief, then, knowing that the decisions she had made were for good reasons, even if they weren’t the right ones.
Sonea is in Sachaka. The Ichani are here. She is safe, perhaps, for now. If I help the Guild, maybe she will have a home to return to.
“I will stay,” he said aloud. “I will return to Imardin.”
Raven nodded. “We can trade the cart and the goods in Calia for two fresh horses—if the reinforcements didn’t take them all.”
The reinforcements. Lord Yikmo and the others would not have reached the Fort yet. They would probably return to Imardin to join the rest of the Guild.
“I may as well wait in Calia and join the reinforcements on their return,” Rothen said.
The spy nodded. “Then we will part there. It has been an honor working with you, Lord Rothen.”
Rothen managed a wan smile. “I have enjoyed your company, and your lessons, Raven.”
The spy snorted at Rothen’s comment. “You lie well, Lord Rothen.” Then he shrugged. “But then, I trained you. Pity those lessons won’t be put into practice. But now you must do what you have been trained to do as a magician.” He glanced at Rothen. “Defend Kyralia.”
When the tiny house appeared between the trees, Sonea assumed it was another farmer’s cottage, but as they left the track Dorrien gestured proudly at the building. “My home.”
He reined his horse in before the house. The other riders watched nervously as Akkarin and Sonea dismounted. Sonea led her mount to one of the men.
“Thanks for the loan,” she offered.
He gave her a distrustful look before taking the reins. She returned to Akkarin’s side and watched as Dorrien thanked the men and sent them away.