But this is not so wild an idea that it’s not worth trying. And it’s the only lead we have.
Shifting his weight, he stretched the other leg. At times like this he was all too aware that he was getting older. He could not climb up the sides of buildings using only a few handholds or a rope, or leap the gaps between them so fearlessly. His muscles stiffened up quickly in the cold air, and took longer to recover from exertion.
And I don’t have a beautiful Sachakan woman nearby to catch me with her magic if the roof collapses.
Old, pleasant memories flashed through his mind. Savara. Mysterious. Seductive. Dangerous. A skilled fighter. The practice bouts he’d had with her had been challenging and exciting, and he’d picked up more than a few new tricks. She’d known too much about the deal he’d made with High Lord Akkarin to kill off the freed Sachakan slaves that the Ichani had sent to Imardin as spies, and to expose the Guild’s weaknesses. But he’d also sensed that he’d not easily get rid of her. That it was better to keep her occupied thinking she was helping him, without letting her get too close to the truth.
She’d worked that one out pretty fast. And then there was that night when they’d watched Sonea and Akkarin fight and kill an Ichani woman. The battle had caused the roof to collapse under them, but Savara had stopped him falling with magic. And then things had become much more personal …
After the Ichani Invasion she’d left, returning to the people she worked for. He’d never seen her again, though he’d often wondered where she was and if she was alive and safe. She would most likely have ventured into dangerous situations again and again for the sake of her people, so it was easily possible one had led to her death.
I was never in love with her, he reminded himself. Nor was she in love with me. I admired her, for both her body and mind. She found me a useful and entertaining ally and distraction. If she’d stayed we wouldn’t have …
A sound below drew his attention back to the present. Peering through the crack between the roof tiles again, Cery saw two people climb the stairs into the small room below. One he recognised instantly: Makkin, carrying a lamp. The other was a dark-skinned woman.
“Is that it?” she asked. Her voice was strangely accented and had the hoarseness of age, but she moved with the vitality of a younger person. The Thief Hunter is a woman? Cery thought. That’s … interesting. It seems I’m doomed to know or be the target of very powerful and dangerous women.
“Yes,” Makkin replied. “That’s it. They’re in there. But—”
“Open it!” the woman ordered.
“I can’t! They took the key. Said that way I couldn’t sell it to anyone else before they came back with the money.”
“What? You’re lying!”
“No! Nonononono!” The pawnshop owner threw up his arms and cringed away from her. His behaviour was a little extreme for someone a head taller than the woman stalking toward him. As if he knows she is more dangerous than she looks.
The woman waved her arms. “Get out,” she ordered. “Leave the lamp, get out of this shop and don’t come back until tomorrow.”
“Yes! Thank you! I’m sorry I couldn’t—”
“OUT!”
He tore back down the stairs as if a wild beast were in pursuit. The woman waited, listening to Makkin’s footsteps. The sound of the shop door slamming echoed up to Cery’s ears.
The woman turned to look at the safebox, then her shoulders straightened. She approached it slowly, then squatted before it and went still. Cery could not see her face, but he saw her shoulders rise and fall as she breathed deeply.
A moment later the lock clicked open.
Gol let out a quiet gasp. Cery smiled grimly. Locks don’t just open of their own will. She must have used magic. I have the proof I need that we have a rogue in the city. It wasn’t proof that she was the Thief Hunter, though, but what if she was? He felt a chill run up his spine at the thought. Was the woman below really the murderer who had killed so many Thieves?
She was examining the books within the safebox now. He recognised the one on magic. Opening it, the woman flicked through the pages, then muttered something and tossed it aside. Picking up another book, she examined it as well. When she had looked at all of the tomes she slowly stood up. Her fists clenched and she uttered a strange word.
What did she say? He frowned. Wait a moment. That was a different language. She’s foreign. But she hadn’t said enough for him to recognise the language or even her accent. If only she would speak again. A whole sentence, not only a curse word.
But the woman remained silent. She rose and turned her back on the safebox and its contents, now strewn about the room. Walking away, she reached the stairs and disappeared into the darkness of the shop below. The door slammed again. Faint footsteps faded in the street beyond.
Cery remained still and silent, waiting until they were sure that if anyone had heard the woman shouting they would have lost interest and stopped watching the shop. He considered his plan. We have the information we need. The only surprise is that the magician is a woman and a foreigner. That doesn’t make her any less dangerous, whether she is the Thief Hunter or not. And if foreign magicians are taking up residence in Imardin, Sonea will definitely want to know about it.
And Skellin. Should he tell the other Thief?
I don’t have proof that she is the Thief Hunter. I only have proof that she is the Rogue. I’d rather Skellin didn’t know that Sonea and I still communicate. If the Guild captures this woman they’ll read her mind and find out once and for all if she is the killer. If she isn’t, then there’s nothing to tell Skellin.
And if she was … well, once the Guild found and dealt with the Rogue there’d be no Thief Hunter to worry about any more.
CHAPTER 14
UNEXPECTED ALLIES
So who am I meeting tonight?” Dannyl asked Ashaki Achati as the carriage set out from the Guild House.
The Sachakan magician smiled. “Your ploy of not nagging to see the king has worked. He has invited you to the palace.”
Dannyl blinked in surprise, then considered all that Lord Maron had told him about the Sachakan king and protocol. The former Ambassador had said that the king refused an audience as often as he granted one, and that there was no point Dannyl seeking one unless he had something to discuss. “I wasn’t aware that I should have been nagging. Should I apologise for that?”
Achati chuckled. “Only if you feel you must. As I am the liaison between the Guild House and the king, it is up to me to advise you how and when to seek an audience with him. I would have told you to wait until he invites you. Since you weren’t making any mistakes, there was little reason to raise the subject.”
“So it wasn’t a mistake to not ask to see him.”
“No. Though showing no interest might have caused offence eventually.”
Dannyl nodded. “When I was the Second Guild Ambassador in Elyne I was required to present myself to the king once, which was arranged for me by the First Guild Ambassador. After that it was only to be for important matters, most of which the First Ambassador took care of.”
“That is interesting. You have two Ambassadors in Elyne, then?”
“Yes. There is too much work for one person. Somehow we wound up with as much work that didn’t relate to the Guild and magic as work that did.”
“Your work here is even less related to magic and magicians,” Achati pointed out. “You are not assessing new recruits or keeping track of graduated magicians. You’re mostly dealing with issues of trade.”
Dannyl nodded. “It is entirely different, yet so far it has been very pleasant. I expect once I have met all of the important people I will no longer be treated to nightly meals and conversations.”
Achati’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, you may find yourself even more in demand once I am no longer required to escort you. Entertaining another Sachakan can be an exhausting and politically perilous exercise. You are both exotic and not too easily offended, so an easy guest to enter
tain.” He gestured to the carriage window. “Look outside as we turn the corner.”
The vehicle slowed and the wall beside them ended. A wide road came into sight. Long beds of flowers appeared, sheltered by enormous trees. Where these gardens ended, a large building stood. White walls curved out from a central archway like carefully draped curtains. Shallow domes rose above them, glittering in the sunlight. Dannyl felt his heart lift at the sight.
“That’s the palace? It’s beautiful,” he said, leaning forward to keep the building in view as the carriage turned into the road. But soon he could only see the white walls of the mansions to the side. He turned back to Ashaki Achati to see the man smiling in approval.
“It is over a thousand years old,” the Sachakan said, with pride. “Parts had to be rebuilt over the years, of course. The walls are doubled so that defenders can hide within and strike at invaders through holes and hatches.” He shrugged. “Not that they have ever been used for that purpose. When Kyralia’s army arrived here ours had already been defeated, and the last emperor surrendered without resistance.”
Dannyl nodded. He had learned as much from basic history classes during his University years, and his research had confirmed it.
“The third king had the domes plated with gold,” Achati continued. He shook his head. “A frivolous indulgence in what was a time of starvation, but they are so beautiful that nobody has ever removed them, and from time to time a king will see that they are cleaned and mended.”
The carriage began to slow and turn, and Dannyl watched eagerly as the palace came in sight again. Once he and Achati had alighted, they stopped to gaze up at the building in admiration for a moment before starting toward the central archway.
Guards at either side of the entrance remained frozen, their gaze set on the distance. They weren’t slaves, Dannyl remembered, but were recruited from the lowest ranks of the Sachakan families. I suppose having your palace guarded by slaves wouldn’t be particularly effective. Guards who throw themselves on the ground whenever someone important walks by are hardly going to react quickly to defend anything or anyone.
They passed through two open doors, then followed a wide corridor with no side entrances. At the end of this was a large room filled with columns. The floor and walls were polished stone. Their footsteps echoed as they walked. Toward the back of this room was a large stone chair, and in it sat an old man wearing the most elaborately decorated clothes Dannyl had seen on any Sachakan since he’d arrived.
He doesn’t look comfortable, he noted. And he looks like he’d like to get off that throne at the first opportunity, too.
Men stood about the room, alone or in twos and threes. They watched silently as Dannyl and Ashaki Achati approached. About twenty paces from the king, Achati stopped and glanced at Dannyl.
The glance was a signal. Achati bowed deeply. Dannyl dropped to one knee.
Lord Maron had explained that Sachakans felt that nothing less than the gesture considered most respectful by an individual – especially a foreigner – was what their king deserved. So the traditional Kyralian and Elyne obeisance to a king was the most appropriate, despite the fact that Sachakans did not kneel before their own king.
“Rise, Ambassador Dannyl,” an elderly voice spoke. “Welcome, to you and my good friend Ashaki Achati.”
Dannyl was grateful the contact with the floor had been brief. The stone was cold. He looked up at the king and was surprised to find the man had left the throne and was walking toward them.
“It is an honour to meet you, King Amakira,” he replied.
“And a pleasure for me to meet the new Guild Ambassador at last.” The old man’s eyes were dark and unreadable, but the wrinkles around them deepened with a genuine smile. “Would you like to see more of the palace?”
“I would, your majesty,” Dannyl replied.
“Come with me and I’ll show you around.”
Ashaki Achati waved a hand to indicate that Dannyl should walk beside the king, then followed behind as the ruler led them out of the hall through a side entrance. A wide corridor ran alongside the hall, before curving off in another direction. As the king repeated what Achati had told Dannyl of the age of the palace, he led them through more sinuous corridors and odd-shaped rooms. Soon Dannyl was completely disorientated. I wonder if that is the point of all the curved walls. And if the entrance corridor and greeting hall are the only square rooms in the building.
“You have an interest in history, I have been told,” the king said, looking at Dannyl with one eyebrow raised.
“Yes. I am writing a history of magic, your majesty.”
“A book! I would like to write a book one day. How close are you to finishing?”
Dannyl shrugged. “I don’t know. There are some gaps in Kyralia’s history that I’d like to fill before printing the book.”
“What gaps are they?”
“According to the history taught in the Guild University, Imardin was levelled during the Sachakan War, but I’ve found no evidence of it. In fact, I have found some evidence to the contrary in Ashaki Itoki’s collection.”
“Of course it wasn’t levelled!” the king exclaimed, smiling. “We lost the final battle!”
Dannyl spread his hands. “It might have been destroyed during the battle, however.”
“There’s no mention of it in our records. Though … few Sachakans survived the last battle and even fewer returned home, so most of the information was gleaned from the Kyralians who conquered us. I guess they could have painted a better picture than the reality.” The king shrugged. “So where do you think this idea that the city was levelled came from?”
“Maps and buildings,” Dannyl replied. “There are no buildings older than four hundred years, and the few maps we have from before the Sachakan War show an entirely different street plan.”
“Then you should be looking at events from four hundred years ago,” the king concluded. “Was there any battle fought in the city at that time? Or a disaster such as a flood or fire?”
Dannyl nodded. “There was, but few magicians believe it was drastic enough to level the city. Many records from that time were destroyed.” He paused, hoping the king wouldn’t ask why. The event he referred to was the story of Tagin, the Mad Apprentice, which was the story of why the Guild had banned black magic. He could not help feeling reluctant to remind the Sachakan king that most Guild magicians did not learn black magic.
“If this event was great enough to ruin a city it would have destroyed any records within the city as well.”
Dannyl nodded. “But the Guild wasn’t destroyed. I’ve found many references to the library it contained. By all accounts, it was well stocked.”
“Perhaps those books had been moved.”
Dannyl frowned. I guess it’s possible Tagin had the contents of the Guild library brought to the palace. He was only an apprentice, so there must have been gaps in his learning that he was eager to fill. I’d assumed the books were all destroyed deliberately. But if they were destroyed when Tagin died then most of the work had been done already.
“I am surprised Kyralian history is so muddled. But we have gaps in our history as well. Come in here.” The king ushered Dannyl and Achati into a small, round room. The walls and floor were polished stone, as was the ceiling. There was only one entrance. In the centre stood a column about waist high.
“Something important once lay here,” the king said, running a palm over the flat top of the column. “We don’t know what it was, but we do know two things: it was a thing of power, either political or magical, and the Guild stole it.”
Dannyl looked at the king, then back at the column. The storestone that Lorkin found references to? The king’s expression was serious and he watched Dannyl closely.
“I’ve encountered a reference to an artefact taken from this palace,” Dannyl told him. “But I’d not heard about it before coming to Sachaka. That reference also stated that the object had been stolen from the Guild magicians here.
”
The king shrugged. “Well, that is what palace folklore says. Our records say nothing more than that something called a “storestone” was stolen by a Guild magician.” He drummed on the column top with both hands. “Not long after it was taken, the wastes appeared. Some believe that the removal of the talisman lifted some sort of magical protection over the land that had kept it fertile and productive.”
“Now that’s a new and interesting idea,” Dannyl said. Lorkin will be intrigued to hear this. “I have been told that attempts have been made to return the wastes to their former state, but they were unsuccessful.”
The king’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, yes. Plenty have tried; all have failed. Even if we knew how to replace the protection that was removed, I suspect it is too big a task for a few magicians. It would take thousands.” He smiled wryly. “And Sachaka no longer has thousands of magicians to call upon. Even if we had, trying to unite magicians is like trying to prevent the sun rising or the tide’s ebb.”
Dannyl nodded. “But there was only one talisman, wasn’t there? Sometimes all it takes is one man and a little knowledge to do great things.”
The king smiled crookedly. “Yes. And sometimes it only takes one man and a little knowledge to do a great deal of harm.” He stepped away from the column and gestured toward the door. “You don’t seem that kind of man, Ambassador Dannyl.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Dannyl replied.
The king chuckled. “As am I. Come. It’s time I showed you the library.”
From her seat high at the front of the Guildhall, Sonea watched the room filling up with magicians. A few patches of purple, red and green had formed, which was a recent phenomenon. Magicians from the Houses tended to sit with family members and allies rather than those of their own discipline, and that led to a mix of robe colours. But magicians from outside the Houses tended to form friendships with those of the same discipline, and the collective effect was a patch of the same robe colour in the audience.