The Ambassador’s Mission: Book One of the Traitor Spy Trilogy (26 page)

Administrator Osen announced the end of discussion time, and all returned to their seats. “Does anybody have anything they wish to say on this subject that has not been raised yet?” he asked.

A few magicians raised their hands. They were called to the floor. The first suggested that magicians should be subject to the same laws as ordinary Kyralians and there be no Guild rules at all. His proposal was met with a rumble of disagreement from all sides. The second magician declared that the rule should be changed, but his suggestion was that the rule should forbid magicians from involvement in or benefiting from criminal activity. This roused a thoughtful murmur. The last magician said only that the decision should be the king’s.

“The king knows and has acknowledged that Guild rules, as opposed to laws, are for the Guild to make,” Osen assured them all. He turned to the front. “Do any of the Higher Magicians have anything further to add?”

Nobody had suggested the simple change of removing “unsavoury characters” from the rule yet. Sonea drew in a deep breath and braced her feet, ready to rise.

“I do,” High Lord Balkan said. Sonea glanced at him, then relaxed. He stood up. “A small change can make a great difference. I propose that we change the wording of the rule, leaving out the reference to unsavoury characters, since it is ambiguous and open to unfair interpretation.”

Osen nodded. “Thank you.” He turned back to the hall. “Unless there is majority disagreement, we have four viable choices: abolish the rule in its entirety, leave it as it is, change it to remove reference to unsavoury characters, or change ‘associating with criminals and unsavoury characters’ to ‘involvement in and benefiting from criminal activity’. If we have a vote for change we will all vote again for our preference of the two choices. Form your globe lights now and move them into position.”

Concentrating a little power, Sonea created a globe of light and sent it up, with the small cloud of globe lights belonging to the Higher Magicians, to float near the Guildhall ceiling. Hundreds of other lights joined it. The effect was dazzling.

“Those in favour of abolition change your light to blue,” Osen ordered. “Those in favour of changing the rule make your light go green. Those favouring no change at all change to red.”

The dazzling whiteness shifted to a brilliant mix of colours. Sonea squinted at the globe lights.
There aren’t many red ones. A few more blue than red. But there are clearly more green than any other colour.
She felt her heart lift with hope.

“Now, those in favour of removing ‘unsavoury characters’ from the rule move your light to the front end of the hall, those in favour of changing it to forbid magicians from involvement in or benefiting from criminal activity move to the back.”

Balls of light surged in different directions. There was a long pause while Osen stared upward, his lips moving as he counted. Then he turned to the Higher Magicians.

“How many of each do you count?”

“Seventy-five to the back, sixty-nine to the front,” Lord Telano replied.

Sonea felt her breath catch in her throat.
But that means …

Osen nodded. “My count agrees with Lord Telano’s.” He turned to face the hall. “The vote is cast. We will change the rule so that it forbids magicians to ‘be involved in or benefit from criminal activity’.”

Staring up at the globe lights, Sonea watched them flicker out of existence until one was left. Hers. She extinguished it, then looked down at Regin. His expression matched what she felt. Surprise. Perplexity.
They chose an option introduced at the last moment, which changed the rule completely. Which both weakened and yet narrowed the focus of it. Magicians and novices can no longer be punished for indulging themselves in pleasure houses, because they’re no longer forbidden to associate with criminals. But at least they can’t be lured into criminal activity, which is what the rule was meant to prevent in the first place.

Regin looked up at her and raised his eyebrows slightly. She lifted her shoulders a little and let them drop. He looked away and she followed the direction of his gaze to Pendel. The young man was smiling and waving at his supporters.

It’s all the same to him
, Sonea thought.
He’s gained a better result than he was hoping for. But Regin looks worried now. Oh dear. I can’t believe I’m actually eager to meet with him again and find out what he thinks about this.

But she’d also never thought she’d ever consult and plot with him.
I guess it’s the price you pay for getting involved in Guild politics. Suddenly you have to be civil to old enemies. Well, thankfully it’s all decided now. I don’t
have
to talk to Regin again if I don’t want to.

She looked down at him a second time. He definitely looked worried. She sighed.

I guess one more chat wouldn’t hurt
.

T
he room’s walls were round, like the inside of a sphere.
Like the Dome at the Guild
, Lorkin thought.
Are we home already?

A large rock lay on the floor, at the lowest point of the curved surface. It was about the size of a small child curled up, but when he reached out to it he found it was small enough to fit into his palm. As he cupped it in his hand, it shrank rapidly, then vanished.

Oh, no! I found the storestone, but I’ve lost it again. I’ve destroyed it. When the Sachakans find out they’re going to be furious! They’ll kill me and Dannyl …

Yet the feeling of fear faded quickly. Instead he felt good. No, he felt
very
good. As if the sheets on his bed were moving across his skin, and getting rather personal in a nice way with parts of him that—

Suddenly he was wide awake.

And someone else was there, very, very close to him. Crouched on top of him. Smooth skin brushed against his. A pleasant scent filled his nostrils. The sound of breathing caressed his ear. He could see nothing. It was utterly dark in the room. But the sound of breathing was somehow recognisable as coming from a woman’s throat.

Tyvara!

He could feel that she was naked. And she now let her weight settle onto his body. He ought to be dismayed – to push her off – but instead a rush of interest went through him. She chose that moment to take advantage of his arousal and he gasped at the unexpected pleasure of her body and his locking together.
Traitor
, he admonished his body.
I should stop her.
But he didn’t.
It’s not as if she isn’t willing
, came another thought.

He thought briefly of the time they’d spent talking, and how he had grown to like the glimpses he’d seen of a smart, strong woman under the forced submissiveness.
You like her
, he assured himself.
That makes it all right, doesn’t it?
But it was getting harder to think. His thoughts kept dissolving under waves of sheer physical pleasure.

Her breathing and movements began to quicken and sensation intensified. He stopped trying to think and gave in. Then her body stiffened and she stopped moving. Her chest lifted away from his as she arched back. He smiled.
Well, that proves that she is enjoying it, too.
She gave a muffled cry.

Muffled?

Brilliant light suddenly dazzled his eyes. He squinted as his eyes adjusted, then realised two things.

There was a hand covering Tyvara’s mouth.

And it wasn’t Tyvara.

Another woman loomed over him and the stranger, and he recognised her with a jolt.
This
was Tyvara.

But her face was distorted by a savage scowl. She was straining to hold the stranger, who was still making muffled sounds and struggling. Something warm and wet dripped onto his chest. He looked down. It was red, and a trail of it was running down the stranger’s side.

Blood!

He felt cold all over, then horror filled him with strength and he pushed the stranger and Tyvara off him and scrambled away. The push caused Tyvara’s hand to slip from the stranger’s mouth and for her to nearly tumble off the end of the bed. As the stranger rolled onto her side, her eyes locked with Tyvara’s.

“You! But … he has to die. You …” Blood leaked from her mouth. She coughed and clutched at her side. Her expression filled with hatred even as she seemed to lose strength. “You are a traitor to your people,” she spat.

“I told you I would not let you kill him. You should have heeded my warning and left.”

The woman opened her mouth to reply, then tensed as a spasm locked her muscles. Tyvara grabbed the woman’s arm.

She’s dying,
Lorkin realised.
I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t just let her die.
He sent out magic and surrounded Tyvara, pushing her away, then leapt onto the bed and reached out to the dying woman.

And felt himself and his magic effortlessly countered by another force. It shattered the containment and rolled him off the end of the bed to land on the hard floor. He lay still, stunned.
She has magic. Tyvara has magic. She isn’t what she is supposed to be. And … ouch!

“I’m sorry, Lord Lorkin.”

He looked up to see Tyvara standing over him. He glanced at the other slave, but she lay still with her back to him. He looked back at Tyvara.
How strong is she?
He eyed her doubtfully.
Is she a Sachakan black magician? But they don’t teach women magic. Well, I suppose they might if they need a spy …

“That woman was about to kill you,” she told him.

He stared at her. “That wasn’t the impression I got.”

She smiled, but there was no humour in it. “Yes, she was. She was sent here to do it. You’re lucky I arrived in time to stop her.”

She’s mad
, he thought. But she was also a magician of undetermined power. It would be safer to reason with her than try to call for help. And reasoning with her might be more convincing if he wasn’t half sitting, half lying on the floor with no clothes on.

Slowly he got to his feet. She made no move to stop him. He saw that the woman she had stabbed was staring up at the ceiling. Or beyond it.
And not seeing anything at all – or ever again.
He shuddered.

Backing up to the set of robes that the slaves had cleaned and left ready for him, hanging on the wall, he took the trousers. Blood had smeared across his chest. He wiped it off onto a cloth the slaves left each night, along with water and a bowl, so he could wash in the morning.

“I gather from your sceptical manner that you don’t know of Lover’s Death,” Tyvara said. “It’s a form of higher magic. When a man or woman reaches the peak of pleasure during lovemaking their natural protection against invasive magic falters, and they are vulnerable to being stripped of all power – and their life. Sachakan men know of Lover’s Death and are wary of it, but they don’t know how to do it. They used to, apparently, but lost the knowledge when they stopped teaching women magic.”

“You’re a woman,” Lorkin pointed out as he pulled his trousers on. “So how is it you know magic?”

She smiled. “Men stopped teaching women magic. Women, however, did not.”

“You know how to do this Lover’s Death thing, too?” His notebook and his mother’s blood ring lay on the table. He picked up the ring as he reached out to the overrobe, hoping she only saw the latter movement, and held it in his hand as he put on the overrobe. Then he picked up his notebook, slipped it into the internal pocket and dropped the ring in at the same time.

“Yes. Although it’s not my preferred method of assassination.” She looked at the stranger. Following her gaze, Lorkin considered the corpse.
If Tyvara knows one method of higher magic there’s a good chance she knows others. And that she is much, much stronger than me.

“What are you, really? You’re obviously not a real slave.”

“I am a spy. I was sent here to protect you.”

“By who?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“But whoever it is, he or she wants me alive?”

“Yes.”

He looked at the dead woman. “You … you, er, killed her to save me.”

“Yes. If I hadn’t found her here with you,
you
would have been the corpse, not her.” She sighed. “I apologise. I made a mistake. I thought you were safe. After all, you told me you weren’t intending to bed any slaves. I should not have believed you.”

He felt his face heat. “I didn’t intend to.”

“You weren’t exactly trying to stop her.”

“It was dark. I thought she was …” He caught himself. Tyvara wasn’t the person he’d thought she was. She was a black magician, a spy, and admitted to having preferred methods of assassination. It might not be a good idea to let her think he found her attractive.
And I’m not sure I do find the person she really is attractive, after all.

Her eyes were darker than ever. They narrowed. “You thought she was what?”

He looked away, then forced himself to meet her gaze. “Someone else. I hadn’t woken up properly. I thought I was dreaming.”

“You must have interesting and pleasant dreams,” she observed. “Now, grab your things.”

“Things?”

“Whatever you don’t want to leave behind.”

“I’m leaving?”

“Yes.” She looked at the dead woman again. “When the people who sent her realise she failed to kill you they’ll send someone else to finish the job. And they’ll send someone to kill me at the same time. It’s not safe here for either of us, and I need you alive.”

“And D— … Ambassador Dannyl?”

She smiled. “He’s not a target.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because he’s not the son of the man who crossed them.”

He froze in surprise.
Was Mother right? She was so sure someone would hold a grudge against me because of what she and father had done.

She took a step toward the door. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

He did not move.
Do I believe her? Do I have a choice? She knows black magic. She can probably force me to go with her. And if she wants me dead why would she save my life? Unless that was a lie, and she just killed an innocent slave in order to convince me of … something.