“Spies would be a more accurate term.”
Akkarin’s hand had moved, and with a flash of fear Lorlen saw that it still held the knife. Realizing that Akkarin could not have missed his reaction, Lorlen stared at it openly.
“What is that?”
“Something I picked up during my travels,” Akkarin replied, holding it up. “Something you recognize, I think.”
Lorlen then felt a flash of triumph. Akkarin had all but admitted he had learned black magic during his travels. Dannyl’s research might prove useful yet...
“It is strangely familiar,” Lorlen said. “Perhaps I have seen something like it before in a book, or a collection of antiques—and it is such a vicious-looking thing it would be sure to stick in my memory.”
“Do you know what it is used for?”
A memory of Akkarin cutting his servant’s arm flashed into Lorlen’s mind. “It’s a knife, so something unpleasant, most likely.”
Akkarin, to Lorlen’s relief, set the knife down on a side table, but the relief had been short lived.
“You have been strangely cautious of me these last few months,” Akkarin said. “You avoid mental communication, as if you are afraid I will detect something behind your thoughts. When my contacts told me of Dannyl’s research, I was intrigued. Why did you ask him to investigate my past? Don’t deny it, Lorlen. I have proof.”
Lorlen was dismayed that Akkarin had discovered Dannyl’s orders. But he had prepared for this question. He pretended to be embarrassed.
“I was curious, and after our conversation about your diary I thought I might restore some of what you lost. You’re not free to gather the information again, so... It wouldn’t be as satisfying as going yourself, of course, but I hoped it would be a pleasant surprise.”
“I see.” Akkarin’s voice had hardened. “I wish I could believe you, but I don’t. You see, tonight I have done something to you that I have never done before, and never wanted to. While we spoke I read your surface thoughts. They have revealed much, much more. I know you are lying. I know you have seen things you should never have seen, and I must know how this came about.
“Tell me, how long have you known I practice black magic?”
Just a few words, and everything changed. Was there any remorse or guilt in his voice? No. Just anger...
Appalled, and not a little frightened, Lorlen had grasped at a last, desperate evasion. He had stared at his friend in horror.
“You practice what?”
Akkarin’s expression darkened. “Don’t be a fool, Lorlen,” he had snapped. “I have seen it in your thoughts. You know you cannot lie to me.”
Realizing that he could not deny it, Lorlen glanced at the knife on the table. He wondered what would happen now. If he was about to die. How Akkarin would explain it. If Rothen and Sonea would suspect the truth and reveal Akkarin’s crime...
Too late, he realized that Akkarin might have heard his thoughts. He looked up, but Akkarin’s expression had showed no alarm or suspicion, only expectation, and that gave him a little hope.
“How long?” Akkarin had pressed.
“Over a year,” he confessed.
“How?”
“I came here one night. The door was open and I saw a light through the stairs, so I started to come down. When I saw what you were doing... it was a shock. I didn’t know what to think.”
“What exactly did you see?”
With difficulty that he did not need to fake, Lorlen had described what Sonea had seen. As he spoke, he had looked for a hint of shame in the High Lord’s expression, but had seen only a flicker of annoyance.
“Does anyone else know about this?”
“No,” Lorlen answered quickly, hoping to avoid betraying Sonea and Rothen, but Akkarin’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re lying to me, my friend.”
“I’m not.”
Akkarin had then sighed. Lorlen remembered that sigh vividly.
“That is unfortunate.”
Lorlen had then risen to face his old friend, determined to convince Akkarin that his secret was safe. “Akkarin, you must believe me. I have told no one about this. It would cause too much strife in the Guild. I... I don’t know why you are playing with this... this forbidden magic. I can only trust that you have good reason. Do you think you would be standing here if I didn’t?”
“So you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then show me the truth. I must know who you are protecting, Lorlen, and just how much you have learned.”
Akkarin had then reached toward Lorlen’s head. With a shock, Lorlen realized Akkarin intended to read his mind. He grabbed Akkarin’s hands and tossed them away, appalled that his friend might demand such a thing. “You have no right to—”
And then the last of Lorlen’s trust in his friend had died as Akkarin’s fingers flexed in a familiar gesture. A force pushed Lorlen backward. He fell into the chair and felt magic pressing him down.
“Don’t do this, Akkarin!”
But Akkarin’s mouth was set in a thin line. “Sorry, my old friend, but I must know.”
Then Akkarin’s fingers had touched Lorlen’s temples.
It should not have been possible! It was as if he wasn’t there, but he was. How does he do this mind-reading?
Shivering at the memory, Lorlen opened his eyes and stared at the walls of his bedroom. As he clenched his fists he felt a warm band of metal press into the skin around one finger. Lifting his hand, he felt his stomach twist as a red gem glinted in the dim light.
Everything had been revealed: what Sonea had witnessed, the truth-read, Rothen’s involvement, and all that Dannyl had learned or discovered. No hint of Akkarin’s thoughts or emotions had filtered through to him. Only afterward had Lorlen seen hints of the High Lord’s state of mind as Akkarin paced his guestroom, brooding in silence for an hour, perhaps longer. What he had discovered obviously concerned him greatly, but his demeanor had not lost any of its confidence.
Finally, the restraining magic holding Lorlen in the chair had withdrawn. Akkarin picked up the knife from the table. Given more time to think, Lorlen would have feared for his life, but instead he stared in disbelief as Akkarin ran the blade over his own palm.
With blood pooling in one hand, Akkarin took Lorlen’s empty glass and smashed it against the table. He picked up one of the fragments and tossed it in the air.
It had halted in front of Akkarin’s eyes, and begun spinning, the sharp edges glowing red as it melted. When it had cooled again, it formed a faceted sphere. Akkarin lifted his bleeding hand and curled his fingers around the sphere. When he opened his hand again, the cut had disappeared and a bright red gem lay on his palm.
Next, Akkarin had willed a silver spoon to his hand from the drinks cabinet. It had twisted about, melting and folding until it had formed a thick circle. Akkarin took the gem between two fingers and placed it in the thickest part of the band, which closed about it like a flower.
Then he had held the ring out to Lorlen.
“Put it on.”
Lorlen had considered refusing, but he knew that Akkarin was willing to use force to get his way, and he could imagine a few unpleasant ways that a ring might be permanently attached. He wanted the option of removing it one day, so he took the ring and reluctantly slipped it onto his middle finger.
“I will be able to see and hear everything around you,” Akkarin had told him. “And we will be able to communicate without anyone hearing.”
Was Akkarin watching now? Does he observe me pacing in my rooms? Does he feel any guilt for what he’s done?
While Lorlen felt hurt and betrayed by Akkarin’s actions, it was Sonea’s fate that tormented him most. Had Akkarin been watching when, looking out of his window a few minutes ago, Lorlen had seen Sonea leave the University? She had stopped abruptly, the pain in her eyes so clear as she remembered that she could no longer return to Rothen’s rooms.