A chill breeze touched his skin. He shivered, then cursed under his breath. His office had always been drafty, something that the previous Administrator had complained of constantly. Rising, he hunted for the source of the breeze as he had often done in the past but, as always, the chill disappeared as suddenly as it had come.
Shaking his head, he started pacing. Dannyl and his scholar companion should arrive in Lonmar soon and they would visit the Splendid Temple. Lorlen hoped they would find nothing—the idea that information about black magic might exist in such a place was appalling to consider.
He stopped pacing at a knock on the door. Striding over, he pulled it open, expecting to receive a gentle lecture about getting enough sleep from Lord Osen. Instead, a dark silhouette filled the doorway.
“Good evening, Lorlen,” Akkarin said, smiling.
Lorlen stared at the High Lord in surprise.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“Of course!” Shaking his head as if to clear it, Lorlen stepped back. Akkarin strolled inside and folded himself into one of the large cushioned chairs. The High Lord’s gaze strayed to Lorlen’s desk.
Following his friend’s gaze, Lorlen caught his breath as he saw Dannyl’s letter lying open. It took all his will to stop himself rushing over and stuffing the pages back into the box. Instead, he crossed the room casually, stopping to straighten a chair, then dropped into his seat with a sigh.
“As always, you find me in a mess,” he muttered. Picking up Dannyl’s letter, he dropped it back in the secure box. After tidying a few more items on the desk, he slipped the box into a drawer. “What brings you here at this late hour?”
Akkarin shrugged. “Nothing in particular. You’re always visiting me, so I thought it was time I dropped in to see you. I knew better than to try your rooms first, though this is a late hour even for you.”
“It is.” Lorlen nodded. “I was just reading some mail, then I was going to finish for the night.”
“Anything interesting? How is Lord Dannyl?”
Lorlen’s heart skipped. Had Akkarin been able to see Dannyl’s signature, or had he recognized the writing? He frowned as he tried to remember what had been written on the exposed page.
“He’s on his way to Lonmar to settle the council’s argument about Greater Clan Koyhmar. I asked Errend to see to it, since he now has a Second Ambassador to deal with Elyne matters while he’s away, but Errend decided to send Dannyl in his place.”
Akkarin smiled. “Lonmar. A place that will either whet the appetite for travel, or kill it.”
Lorlen leaned forward. “What did it do for you?”
“Hmmm,” Akkarin considered the question carefully. “It did give me a hunger to see more of the world, but it also hardened me as a traveller. Lonmars may be the most civilized people of the Allied Lands, but there is much that is harsh and cruel about them. You learn to tolerate their sense of justice, perhaps understand it as well, but by doing so your own beliefs and ideals are strengthened. The same could be said of Elyne frivolity, or the Vindo obsession with trade. There is more to life than fashion and money.”
Akkarin paused, his gaze distant, then shifted in his seat. “And you discover that, just as not every Elyne is frivolous, or every Vindo is greedy, not every Lonmar is unbending. Most are kind and forgiving, preferring to resolve disputes privately. I did learn much about them, and though the whole journey there proved to be a waste of time as regards my research, the experience has proven to be valuable to my role here.”
Lorlen closed his eyes and massaged them. A waste of time? Was Dannyl also wasting his time?
“You are tired, my friend,” Akkarin said, his voice softening. “I am keeping you from your bed with my tales.”
Blinking, Lorlen looked up at the High Lord. “No—don’t mind me. Please go on.”
“No.” Akkarin rose, his black robes rustling. “I was putting you to sleep. We’ll catch up another time.”
Disappointment and relief mingled as Lorlen followed Akkarin to the door. Stepping into the corridor, Akkarin turned back to regard Lorlen, and smiled crookedly.
“Good night, Lorlen. You will get some rest, won’t you? You look exhausted.”
“Yes. Good night, Akkarin.”
Closing the door, Lorlen sighed. He had just learned something useful—or had he? Akkarin might be saying he had found nothing in Lonmar to hide something he had discovered. It was odd that he should suddenly talk of the journey when he had avoided the subject in the past.
Lorlen winced as a cold draft chilled his neck. Distracted from his thoughts, he yawned, then returned to his desk and moved the secure box to its proper place in the cupboard. Feeling better, he left the office and started for his rooms.
He must be patient. Dannyl would find out soon enough whether his journey to Lonmar was a waste of time.
12
Not What They Had in Mind
How had he done it?
Sonea walked slowly down the corridor. In her arms was the box in which she kept her pen, inkwell and unbound folder of notes and fresh paper.
The folder was empty.
Once more she searched her memory. When had she given Regin an opportunity to get to her belongings? She was always cautious, never leaving her notes unattended for a moment.
But in the classroom, during Lady Kinla’s lesson, the novices were often called from their seats to observe some demonstration. It was possible Regin had slipped her notes out of their cover as he passed her table. She had believed such nimble-fingeredness was beyond the pampered children of the Houses. Obviously she was wrong.
She had checked her room thoroughly, and even slipped back into the University to check the classroom late in the night. All the time she had searched, she had known she wouldn’t find the notes, at least not in one piece or before today’s tests.
As she entered the classroom her suspicions were confirmed by Regin’s smug expression. Refusing to show any drop in her composure, she bowed to Lady Kinla and moved to her usual seat beside Poril.
Lady Kinla was a tall, middle-aged Healer. Women Healers always wore their hair bound back in a knot at the nape of their neck, and on Lady Kinla this fashion gave her thin face a permanently severe expression. As Sonea sat down the Healer cleared her throat and looked at each of the novices intently.
“Today I will test you on the lessons we have covered in the last three months. You may consult your notes.” She lifted a few sheets of paper, her eyes flitting across the page. “Firstly, Benon…”
Sonea felt her heart skip as the testing began. Lady Kinla wandered up and down the classroom, threading her way past the novices as she threw questions at them. When Sonea heard her name she felt her heart skip, but, to her relief, the question was easy and she could answer it from memory.
Slowly, however, the questions became more difficult. As other novices began to hesitate and consult their notes before answering, Sonea grew anxious. The air stirred beside her as Kinla walked past her chair.
Then the Healer stopped and turned to stare at Sonea. She took a few steps forward until she towered over Sonea’s desk.
“Sonea,” she placed a fingertip on the table. “Where are your notes?”
Sonea swallowed. For a second she considered pretending that she had forgotten them. But making up such a story would give Regin even more satisfaction, and another excuse came to mind…
“You said this lesson would be a test, my lady,” she said. “I didn’t think I would need to take any notes.”
Lady Kinla’s eyebrows rose, and she regarded Sonea speculatively. From somewhere behind them came a smothered chuckle of anticipation.
“I see.” The teacher’s tone was dangerous. “Name twenty bones of the body, starting from the smallest.”
Sonea cursed silently. Her answer had angered the Healer, who obviously didn’t expect Sonea to be able to remember so much.
But she had to try. Slowly, then with more confidence, Sonea drew the names from
memory, counting them on her fingers as she spoke. When she had finished Lady Kinla stared at her in silence, lips pressed into a thin line.
“You are correct,” the Healer said grudgingly.
With a quiet sigh of relief, Sonea watched the teacher turn and continue her meandering among the novices’ desks. Glancing at the class, she found Regin staring at her, his eyes narrowed to slits.
She looked away. Thankfully, she had helped Poril with his notes and could copy them out again for herself. She doubted she’d see her own again now.
A few days after their arrival, the Splendid Temple priests replied to Dannyl’s request to see the collection of scrolls. He was relieved at this break from his ambassadorial duties. Already, the squabbling of the Lonmar Council of Elders was trying his patience.
Lorlen’s reasons for sending a foreign Guild Ambassador to Lonmar were annoyingly valid. One of the Greater Clans had fallen out of favor and fortune, no longer able to support its novices and magicians. The other clans were required to take on the responsibility.
Studying the agreements between the Guild and other lands had been part of Dannyl’s preparations for his role. While the Kyralian King apportioned part of his tax revenue to pay for the needs of Kyralian magicians, and left the selection of entrants to chance, other lands had different approaches. The Elyne King offered a number of places each year and chose applicants with a mind to future political implications. The Vindo sent as many entrants as they could find and afford, which was not many since they had little magical ability in their bloodlines.
The Lonmars were ruled by a Council of Elders made up of representatives from the Greater Clans. Each Clan funded the training of its own magicians. The centuries-old agreement made between the Lonmars and the Kyralian King stated that, if a clan should be unable to finance its magicians, the other clans must equally share the cost of supporting them. The Guild did not want magicians falling on hard times, and turning to unethical uses of magic to survive.
Not surprisingly, several clans were protesting. From what Ambassador Vaulen had told Dannyl, however, they only needed to be gently and firmly reminded of the disadvantages of having the agreement annulled, their magicians sent home, and access to Guild training withheld, and they would cooperate. Vaulen played the role of gentle Elyne persuader, Dannyl was to be the firm, immovable Kyralian.
But not today.
Hearing that Dannyl’s request to the Temple had been successful, Ambassador Vaulen had immediately ordered servants to prepare the Guild carriage.
“Today is a day of rest,” he said. “Which means the Elders will be visiting each other and debating what to do. You may as well do some sightseeing.” He offered them dried fruit softened with honeyed water as they waited.
“Is there anything I should know about the priests before I go?” Dannyl asked.
Vaulen considered. “According to Mahga doctrine, all men find a balance between joy and pain in their lives. While magicians are considered to have been gifted with magic, they are barred from the priesthood. Only a few exceptions have been made.”
“Really?” Dannyl straightened. “In what circumstances?”
“In the past, a few were judged to have suffered greatly and could seek balance by joining the priesthood, but only if they gave up their powers—though they were still barred from the higher ranks.”
“I hope this doesn’t mean that they’ll cause me pain to balance my own gifts.”
Vaulen smiled. “You are an unbeliever. That is balance enough.”
“What can you tell me of High Priest Kassyk?”
“He respects the Guild, and speaks highly of the High Lord.”
“Why Akkarin in particular?”
“Akkarin visited the Temple over ten years ago, and it seems he impressed the High Priest greatly.”
“He has a way of doing that.” Dannyl looked at Tayend, but the scholar was absorbed in eating. Tayend, to his surprise, had returned from the tailor the day after their arrival dressed in typically colorless Lonmar clothes. “They’re very comfortable,” the scholar had explained. “And I fancied owning some as a souvenir of our visit.” Shaking his head, Dannyl had replied: “Only you could turn a statement of humility into an object of indulgence.”
“Your carriage is here,” Vaulen said, rising.
Hearing hoofbeats and the creak of springs outside, Dannyl moved to the door. Tayend followed, wiping the sticky residue from the dried fruit off his fingers with a damp cloth.
“Give my regards to the High Priest,” Vaulen said.
“I will.” Dannyl stepped out of the building. At once he was bathed in the heat radiating from a sunlit wall on the other side of the street. Dust raised by the carriage tickled his throat.
A servant opened the carriage door. Climbing in, Dannyl winced as he entered the suffocatingly hot cabin. Tayend followed, settling onto the opposite seat with a grimace. The servant handed them two bottles of water, then signalled the driver to leave.
Opening the carriage windows in the hope of catching a breeze, Dannyl endured the dust that billowed in, washing it from his throat with mouthfuls of water. The streets were narrow, which kept them as shaded as possible, but the clutter of pedestrians slowed the carriage. Some streets were covered by wooden roofs, forming dark tunnels.
After a few brief conversations, they fell silent. Talking only filled their mouths with dust. The carriage moved slowly, plodding through the endless city. It was not long before Dannyl tired of seeing people and houses that all looked the same. He slumped against the side of the carriage and dozed.
The new sound of pavement under the horses’ hooves roused him. Looking out of the window, he saw smooth walls passing on either side. After a hundred paces or so the corridor ended and the carriage entered a wide courtyard. At last the Splendid Temple came into view.
As with all Lonmar architecture, the building was single-storied and undecorated. The walls were marble, however, the blocks fitting together so accurately it was difficult to make out their edges. Obelisks were set into the face of the building at intervals, each as wide at the base as the building was high, and rising higher than the carriage window allowed him to see.
The carriage stopped and Dannyl climbed out, too eager to leave the stifling heat of the interior to wait for the driver to open the door. Looking up, he drew in a breath as he saw how tall the obelisks were. Placed every fifty paces or so in all directions, they filled the sky.
“Look at them all,” Dannyl said to Tayend quietly. “It’s like a forest of gigantic trees.”
“Or a thousand swords.”
“Or masts of ships waiting to take souls away.”
“Or an enormous bed of nails.”
“You’re in a good mood today,” Dannyl remarked dryly.
Tayend smiled crookedly. “I am, aren’t I?”
As they approached the door to the Temple, a man in a simple white robe stepped out to greet them. His hair was white, contrasting with the rich black of his skin. Bending only slightly, he clasped his hands together, then opened them in the ritual gesture of the Mahga followers.
“Welcome, Ambassador Dannyl. I am High Priest Kassyk.”
“Thank you for allowing us to visit,” Dannyl replied. “This is my assistant and friend, Tayend of Tremmelin, scholar of the Great Library of Capia.”
The High Priest repeated the gesture. “Welcome, Tayend of Tremmelin. Would you both like to see some of the Splendid Temple before viewing the scrolls?”
“We would be honored,” Dannyl replied.
“Follow me.”
The High Priest turned and led them into the coolness of the temple building. They wandered down a long corridor, the priest gesturing as he explained the history or religious significance of features. Long corridors crossed the one they followed. Light filtered through small, narrow windows set just below the arched roof. Occasionally they passed a tiny courtyard filled with wide-leafed plants, surprising the visitors with their unexpected l
ushness. At other times they stopped at fountains set into the walls to drink a palmful of water.
The High Priest showed them the small rooms where the priests lived and spent their time in study or contemplation. He guided them through large, cavernous halls where prayers and rituals were held each day. Finally he guided them into a complex of small rooms where scrolls and books were displayed.
“Which texts would you like to see?” Kassyk asked.
“I would like to see the Dorgon scrolls.”
The priest regarded Dannyl quietly before he replied.
“We do not allow non-believers to read those texts.”
“Oh.” Dannyl frowned, disappointed. “This is not good news. I have been led to believe these scrolls were available for viewing, and have travelled far to see them.”
“That is unfortunate indeed.” The High Priest looked genuinely sympathetic.
“Forgive me if I am wrong, but you have allowed them to be read before, haven’t you?”
Kassyk blinked in surprise. He nodded slowly. “Your High Lord, when he visited ten years ago, did persuade me to read them to him. He assured me that no one would seek this information again.”
Dannyl exchanged a glance with Tayend. “Akkarin was not High Lord then, but even if he had been, how could he have guaranteed this?”
“He made a vow never to repeat what he had heard.” The priest’s frown deepened. “Or refer to the scrolls to any other. He also said that the information was of no interest to the Guild. Nor was it of interest to him, as he was seeking ancient magic, not religious lore. Are you looking for the same truths?”
“I can’t say, as I don’t know exactly what Akkarin was looking for. These scrolls may be relevant to my research despite being of no use to the High Lord.” Dannyl held the priest’s gaze. “If I make the same vow, will you read them to me?”
The priest considered Dannyl. After a long pause, he nodded. “Very well, but your friend must stay here.”