The Rogue (8 page)

Dannyl looked around, still struggling to believe Tayend had managed it. The Master’s Room of the Guild House was filled with powerful and influential Sachakans. There were Ashaki here who were deadly enemies. They weren’t exactly talking to each other, but they were in the same room, which apparently was a rare thing.

He didn’t manage to get the king here, though.
Tayend had said he’d sent an invite, but Achati had warned him that Amakira would not be able to attend
.
It was probably for the better. When the monarch was among a gathering of so many Ashaki, the inevitable political scheming spoiled the party. Or so Dannyl had heard. He’d never been in a gathering this big, nor any that included the king. The largest had been the greeting party Achati had arranged for Dannyl and Lorkin’s arrival in Arvice.

Dannyl had to admit, he was impressed. Tayend had managed to organise the event within a few days of coming up with the idea of holding a “Kyralian” party. He’d even taught the kitchen slaves to make a few Kyralian dishes to be served in small bowls or plates. He had given up on the idea of having the slaves walk about with food on platters, since they could not put aside their habit of throwing themselves on the floor for him and Dannyl, let alone important Sachakans.

Tayend had even managed to find more sober Kyralian clothing to wear rather than his usual bright and flamboyant garb.

“Next time I’ll have an Elyne party,” Dannyl heard Tayend say. “Or maybe a Lonmar party. At least then the absence of women will suit the theme. You can’t have an Elyne party without a little witty female conversation to liven things up.” Tayend paused to listen to a response Dannyl could not hear, and then smiled. “Then perhaps I’ll train a slave, or import some Elyne women for the day – or mimic one myself! Nothing spared for my Sachakan guests.”

Laughter followed. Dannyl sighed and turned away. He saw Achati talking to Lady Merria and felt a wave of gratitude. She had looked uncomfortable earlier, with the other guests ignoring her. Watching to see what the Sachakans would do when they saw her, Dannyl had noticed less displeasure and more uncertainty in their faces than he’d expected. Not used to women being among their social circle, since talking to someone else’s woman was taboo, they didn’t know what to do about her, so they pretended she wasn’t there.

Achati looked up and beckoned to Dannyl.

“I was just telling Lady Merria of a group of three Sachakan women I know who meet socially.”

“I thought that was frowned upon here.”

“They get away with it because they are widows and a cripple, and because they hate the Traitors. One of the group believes they killed her husband.” Achati smiled. “I thought Lady Merria might like to join them sometimes. She could become very lonely here otherwise.”

Dannyl looked at Merria. “What do you think?”

She nodded. “It would be good to meet some local women.”

Achati smiled and looked at Dannyl. “Should I enquire with them if your assistant would be welcome?”

Belatedly, Dannyl realised Achati was asking his permission, as if Merria’s social life was his responsibility. Amused, he looked at the Healer. She looked a little distant, as if she hadn’t heard the question, but perhaps her lack of expression came from her effort to show nothing of her true feelings.

“Yes, please do,” Dannyl replied.

Achati looked pleased. “Perhaps I can find you something to do, as well,” he murmured. Looking at Dannyl pointedly, he beckoned and headed toward an Ashaki whose partner in conversation had just moved away. Dannyl followed.

“Ashaki Ritova. I was just telling Ambassador Dannyl about your impressive library.”

The Sachakan turned to face Achati. He wore a haughty expression that softened very slightly into respect toward Achati, but returned when he looked at Dannyl.

“Ashaki Achati. You need not boast on my behalf.”

“Yet I always feel inclined to. Surely it is the best collection in Sachaka, aside from the palace library.”

“It is a meagre pile of books in comparison.”

“Even so, I am sure Ambassador Dannyl would be astounded at how old some of your records are.”

The man glanced at Dannyl again. “I doubt you would find anything of interest, Ambassador.” He sighed. “I do not have the time to look in there myself. Too busy discussing treaties with the eastern lands.”

He shook his head and began a long and boring criticism of the peoples the Sachakans traded with over the Aduna Sea. It would have been interesting to learn more about these lands, but Dannyl quickly realised that the Ashaki’s assessment was tainted with dislike and prejudice, and unlikely to be a true description. When Achati finally managed to extract them without insulting Ritova, he apologised.

“I hoped to get something out of that for you,” he murmured. “But he is as stubborn as …”

The Master of War, Kirota, drew near. Seeing Dannyl, he sidled over.

“Ashaki Achati. Ambassador Dannyl. A pleasure to see you again, Ambassador. I hear you and Ambassador Tayend are closely connected. Is this true?”

Dannyl nodded. “We have long been friends. Over twenty years.”

Kirota frowned. “Ambassador Tayend said he lived in Elyne when you first met.”

“Yes, as did I,” Dannyl explained. “I was Guild Ambassador to Elyne. I met Tayend at the Great Library. He assisted me in some research for the Guild.”

“Ah, yes! Tayend mentioned your research. How is it going?”

Dannyl shrugged. “I’ve made little progress recently.”

Kirota nodded sympathetically. “Such is the life of a researcher. A big discovery one moment, long gaps between. I wish you more success soon.”

“Thank you,” Dannyl replied. “You expressed an interest in filling gaps in your own records last time we met,” he added. “My offer to assist still stands.”

The Master of War’s face brightened. “I will be sure to take it up.” His gaze flickered past Dannyl’s shoulder. “Ah. More of those delicious rassook legs. This time I’m determined to get more than one before they all go. I like this Kyralian food.” He grinned and hurried away.

Hearing a chuckle beside him, Dannyl turned to look at Achati. The man smiled.

“You did well there,” he murmured. “It could be that, now that you’re no longer the newest thing to examine, the best way to gain what you need is to trade for it.”

Dannyl nodded and felt his heart lighten a little.

“Though I doubt Kirota can do much for you in return,” Achati warned in a low voice. “Still … consider it an investment.”

As the small flare of hope faded, Dannyl suppressed a sigh. He saw Tayend watching him from the other side of the room, a thoughtful look on his former lover’s face, and suddenly all Dannyl wanted to do was leave the party.

But he had no choice but to stay, so he stiffened his back and followed Achati to the next group of Sachakans.

Lorkin had been expecting luxury and expensive decoration. He had expected the Traitor equivalent of servants hovering about, ready to do their monarch’s bidding, and guards at every door.

But the rooms of the Traitor queen were not much larger or finer than those of the women he had visited while assisting Speaker Kalia in her visits to the sick or pregnant. The only obvious guard was a single magician sitting in the corridor outside, near the door. Maybe the young woman who had answered his knock on the door was a magician, too, though she seemed too young for the role of royal protector. She had greeted him with a cheerful, welcoming smile, introduced herself as Pelaya, then ushered him inside.

Now he stood within a circle of plain wooden chairs. An old woman was standing before one of them as if she had just stood up. She was not dressed in finery, but then she hadn’t been the day of Tyvara’s trial either. If he hadn’t recognised her face, he might have mistaken her for another visitor waiting for the queen.

But her bright eyes were sharp and her stare very direct, and there was something about her composure and focus that spoke of confidence and command. He put a hand to his chest and waited for a response, as he’d been instructed to do when he had first entered the presence of the queen.

She waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t bother with formality in my own home, Lord Lorkin. I am too old and tired for it. Please sit down.” She reached backwards and, with obvious difficulty, began to lower herself onto a chair. He automatically took a step forward to help her, then stopped, not sure if touching her would be inappropriate.

“Wait for me, Zarala,” Pelaya said, her voice gently scolding, as she hurried forward to assist the old queen.

“I’m fine,” Zarala replied. “Just slow.”

Once she was settled, the queen indicated the chair next to hers. Lorkin sat down. The young woman disappeared into another room. The queen regarded him thoughtfully.

“How are you finding living in Sanctuary?”

“It is a wonderful place, your majesty,” he began. “I—”

“No formality,” the queen interrupted, waving a finger at him. “Call me Zarala.”

He nodded. “Zarala. It is a beautiful name.”

She grinned. “I like flattery. It will gain you nothing, though. I am too old for that sort of thing to influence me. Not that you should stop, if you happen to enjoy it.”

“I do,” Lorkin replied. “And should you happen to enjoy it, you are welcome to send some my way, too,” he added quickly.

To his relief, she laughed. “Go on. Tell me how you are doing.”

“I am amazed at Traitor generosity and friendliness. Your people have welcomed me, given me food and shelter, and duties that make me feel useful.”

“Why would you be surprised at that?”

Lorkin shrugged. “For a people so secretive, I would have expected it to take a long time to be so accepted among you.”

She considered him closely. “You know that you haven’t been, don’t you? Fully accepted, that is. A lot of people like you, and a lot appreciate what you did for Tyvara, but nobody is fool enough to trust you yet.”

He nodded and met her gaze. “Yes, I do sense that. It’s understandable. I suppose I am amazed that it isn’t more obvious.”

“I’ve heard only a few reports of people taking a dislike to you personally, but mostly they don’t like you on principle.”

He looked at her. “Because of my father.”

“Yes – and Riva’s death.” All sign of her lighter mood was gone now. The wrinkles across her brows deepened. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what your father did. It is ridiculous to think a child is responsible for what their parent does.”

“I … I am glad you feel that way.”

She leaned forward and patted him on the knee. “I’m sure you are. You’d probably be dead, otherwise.” Humour had re-entered her voice and eyes, and he smiled.

“I don’t resent your father any more either,” she told him, looking away and growing serious again. Serious and sad. “Despite losing a daughter to a sickness that could have been cured. We went about things the wrong way. Something about your father had convinced me he was an honourable man. I thought I’d been wrong, but came to see that perhaps I wasn’t, that I’d failed to see that there would be something he felt a stronger loyalty to.”

“The Guild? Kyralia?” Lorkin suggested.

She looked at him. “You didn’t know about the deal he made, did you?” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “I was appalled to find he made such a bargain and dishonoured it.”

“He died before you were born. I suppose he never got the chance to tell you.”

“And Mother never mentioned it. She couldn’t have known.”

“Why are you so certain?”

“She was determined to stop me going to Sachaka. If she’d had proof I would be in danger from the Traitors, she would have used it.”

“Do you miss her?”

Her stare was very direct. He nodded. “And yet a part of me wants to be … to be …”

“Living your own life? Making your own decisions?”

He nodded.

She waved a hand at the room, or beyond. “And here you are, stuck in Sanctuary.”

“It is a pleasant place to be stuck.”

She smiled approvingly. “I hope you continue to think so.” Her smile faded again. “Because life might not always be so comfortable here for you. I am old. I can’t be certain who will succeed me. All know that Savara is the Speaker I favour to be the next queen, and she likes you, but that does not mean the people will vote for her. They certainly won’t if they come to question my decisions.” She pointed at him. “Like allowing a Kyralian magician into Sanctuary who turned out to be too nosy.”

Her eyes were hard and ever so slightly accusing. His face began to warm and he looked away, not sure what to say.

“But they may be satisfied now that I have brought you in here for a good chiding. Savara has decided that it would be better if she forbids Tyvara from being seen with you, so it is clear that she disapproves of your exploration of the caves.

Lorkin’s heart made a small lurch.
But it wasn’t like we were seeing each other anyway
, he reminded himself. Zarala smiled and patted him on the knee again. “I have some friendly and free advice for you, young Lorkin. Be careful how much trouble you stir up. It might bring you, and others, a whole lot more than you realise.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I will take your advice. No trouble.”

She looked pleased. “You’re a smart young man. There – I have flattered you in return. Would you like something to eat?” She did not wait for him to reply, but turned in the other direction, toward the inner door.

“Pelaya? Is there anything for our visitor to eat?”

“Of course there is,” the young woman replied. She appeared in the doorway holding a simple wooden tray topped with glasses, water and a bowl of cakes, obviously having been waiting for the queen to call.

the rogue

“Ah, my favourite,” the queen said, rubbing her hands together. She smirked at Lorkin. “Pelaya is a fabulous cook. Does it all with magic.” As the young woman carried the tray into the room, Zarala turned to stare at a nearby small table. It rose in the air and floated toward them, settling before Lorkin.

She may be old and too tired for formality
, Lorkin mused,
but I can see why she is queen. And I’d wager she’s still as powerful and smart as the day she became one.