The Rogue (2 page)

He thought of his newest and closest friend in Sanctuary, a man named Evar, who he was meeting tonight. The young Traitor magician had been drawn to Lorkin out of curiosity because he was the only other male magician in Sanctuary who had not yet paired with a woman. Lorkin had discovered that his first impression of the status of male magicians had been wrong: he’d assumed that if there were male magicians then the Traitors must offer them the same opportunities to learn magic as they offered women. The truth was, all male magicians here were naturals – magicians whose magic had developed naturally, forcing Traitor magicians to teach them or abandon them to die when they lost control of their powers. Magical knowledge was not otherwise offered to Traitor men.

The few fortunate male naturals were still not equal to the women, however. Men were not taught black magic. This ensured that even weak female magicians were stronger than the male ones, because they could boost their strength by storing magic taken from others.

I wonder … would I have been allowed into Sanctuary if I’d known black magic?

He did not ponder that, as he had finally reached his destination: the “men’s room”. It was a large room that accommodated Traitor males who were too old to live with their parents but had not yet been selected by a woman to be her companion.

Evar was talking to two other men, but left them as he saw Lorkin enter. Like most Traitor men, he was thin and small-boned, in contrast to the typical free Sachakan male from the lowlands, who tended to be tall and broad-shouldered. Not for the first time, Lorkin wondered if Traitor men had somehow grown smaller over time to fit their social status.

“Evar,” Lorkin said. “Sorry I’m late.”

Evar shrugged. “Let’s eat.”

Lorkin hesitated, then followed the other man to the food preparation area, where a steaming pot of soup had been cooked up by one of the men for them all to eat. This wasn’t part of the plan. Had he returned too late? Had Evar’s plans changed?

“Are we still going for that walk you suggested?” Lorkin ventured as casually as he could manage.

Evar nodded. “If you haven’t changed your mind.” He leaned closer. “A few of the stone-makers are working late,” the young magician murmured. “Got to give them time to finish up and leave.”

Lorkin felt his stomach knot. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked as they moved to one of the long dining tables, taking places at the end a little distance from the men already eating.

Evar chewed, swallowed, then gave Lorkin a reassuring smile. “Nothing I’m going to show you is secret. Anyone who wants to have a look is welcome to, so long as they have a guide, keep quiet and stay out of the way.”

“But I’m not just anyone.”

“You’re supposed to be one of us. The only difference is you’ve been
told
you can’t leave. If I tried to leave, well, I doubt I’d get far without permission, and that permission isn’t likely to be granted. They don’t like having lots of Traitors outside the city. Every spy is a risk, even with the mind-read-blocking stones. What if the stone was in your hand and your hand was chopped off?”

Lorkin grimaced. “Even so, I doubt anybody is going to be happy about me being there,” he said, returning to the subject. “Or you taking me.”

Evar swallowed the last bite of his meal. “Probably not. But dear Aunt Kalia loves me.” Though Lorkin had never seen Kalia chatting sociably to Evar, she did appear to approve of her nephew. “You going to finish that?”

Shaking his head, Lorkin pushed the remains of his meal aside. He was too nervous to eat much. Evar frowned at the unemptied bowl, but said nothing, took it and simply finished off the leftovers. Since land for crops or livestock was limited, the Traitors didn’t approve of waste, and Evar was always hungry. They rose, cleaned and packed away the utensils they’d used and then left the men’s room. Lorkin felt his stomach twist and flutter with anxiety, yet at the same time he was full of impatience and anticipation.

“We’ll go through one of the back ways,” Evar murmured. “Less chance you’ll be noticed going in.”

As they travelled through the city, Lorkin considered what he hoped to find out. The Guild had maintained for centuries that there were no true magical objects, just ordinary things given structural integrity or enhanced properties – like magically strengthened buildings, or the walls that glowed in the University – because they were made from material in which magic acted slowly and so continued to have an effect long after a magician stopped working on it. Even glass “blood gems” didn’t qualify. They channelled mental communications between the wearer and the creator in a way that prevented other magicians from hearing, but they didn’t contain magic.

He suspected that some of the gemstones in Sanctuary did. Most were like blood gems in that magic was sent to them and was converted by the stone to a purpose. Others appeared to hold magic ready to be used in some way. All Traitors who ventured outside their secret home carried a tiny stone inserted beneath their skin that not only allowed them to protect their mind if a Sachakan magician read it, but also let them project innocent, safe thoughts instead. The corridors and rooms within the city were illuminated by gems that gave off light. The Care Room where Lorkin attended the sick contained several stones with useful properties, from producing a warm glow or a gentle vibration to soothe sore muscles, to stones that could cauterise wounds.

If the historical records Lorkin and Dannyl had encountered were correct, then it was possible for a gemstone to store a vast amount of magic. There had been one such storestone in Arvice, the Sachakan capital, many hundreds of years ago. According to Chari, a woman who had helped him and Tyvara get to Sanctuary safely, the Traitors knew of storestones but did not know how to make them. She might have been telling the truth, or lying to protect her own people.

If knowledge of making such storestones existed, it could free the Guild of the necessity of allowing some magicians to learn black magic in case Sachakan magicians invaded again. Magic could be stored within the stones instead, to be used in the country’s defence.

Which was why he was risking this visit to the stone-makers’ caves. He did not want to learn how to make stones, he wanted to confirm that they held the potential he hoped. Then perhaps he could negotiate a trade between the Guild and the Traitors: stone-making for Healing. It would be an exchange that would benefit both peoples.

He knew he would have to work hard to convince the Traitors to consider such a trade. Having hidden from the Ashaki for centuries, they were rigorously protective of their secret home and way of life. They didn’t allow any mental communication in case it drew attention to the city. The only Traitors allowed in and out of the valley were spies, with few exceptions.

But as he followed Evar deeper into the underground network of passages, Lorkin worried that it was too soon to be visiting the caves. He did not want to give the Traitors reason to distrust him.

But as a foreigner, they might never trust him fully anyway. He only needed them to trust him enough that he could persuade them to trade with the Guild and Allied Lands.
Eventually they may realise I haven’t been officially forbidden to visit the caves, and do something about it. I must take this opportunity now.

Evar had another view: “
Traitors make their own decisions – or rather, they don’t like letting others make decisions for them. If you want us to do something, you’ve got to let us think the idea was ours. Should someone discover us visiting the caves, you will have, at least, reminded everyone that we have something the Guild might want in exchange for Healing.
”

“Here we are,” Evar said, glancing back at Lorkin.

They had been walking down a passage so narrow they couldn’t walk side by side. Evar had stopped by a side opening. Over Evar’s shoulder Lorkin saw a brightly lit room. He felt his heart skip a beat.

We’re here!

Evar beckoned and stepped into the room. As Lorkin followed he looked around the huge space. It was empty of other people, as far as he could see. He turned his attention to the walls and drew in a quick breath.

They were covered in masses of glittering, colourful gemstones. At first he thought the distribution was random, but as he gazed at the swathes of colour he realised there were bands, swirls and patches of similar hues. He turned to regard the wall behind them and saw that the stones varied in size from tiny specks to crystals the size of his thumbnail.

It was beautiful.

“Over here we make the lightstones,” Evar told him, beckoning and heading toward a dazzling section of wall. “They’re the easiest to make, and it’s obvious when you get them right. You don’t even need a duplication stone.”

“Duplication stone?” Lorkin repeated. Evar had mentioned them before, but Lorkin had never quite grasped their purpose.

“One of these.” Evar changed direction abruptly and led Lorkin over to one of the many tables around the room. He opened a wooden box to reveal a single gemstone sitting in a bed of fine downy fibre. “With the lightstones you just have to imprint the growing gems with the same thought that you use to create a magical light. But for stones with more complicated uses, it’s easier to take one that’s already been successfully made and project the pattern within it. It reduces the rate of mistakes and flawed stones, and you can also raise several stones at the same time.”

Lorkin nodded. He pointed to another section. “What do these stones do?”

“Create and hold a barrier. They’re used for temporarily damming water or holding back rock falls. Look over here …” They moved across to a wall of tiny black crystals. “These are going to be mind blockers. They take a long time to make because they’re so complicated. It would be easier if they only had to shield a wearer’s thoughts, but they also need to allow the wearer to project the thoughts a mind-reader expects to read, to fool them into not realising there’s anything going on.” Evar gazed at the tiny stones in admiration. “We didn’t come up with them – we used to buy them from the Duna tribes.”

Dannyl’s warning that the Traitors had stolen the stone-making knowledge from the Duna people flashed into Lorkin’s mind. Perhaps that was only how the Duna people saw it. Perhaps it had been another deal gone wrong, like that between his father and the Traitors.

“Do you still trade with them?” he asked.

Evar shook his head. “We surpassed their knowledge and skills centuries ago.” He looked to the right. “Here are some we developed ourselves.” They approached a patch of large gemstones, their surface reflecting light with an iridescence that reminded Lorkin of the inside of exotic polished shells. “These are call stones. They’re like blood gems. They allow us to communicate with each other at a distance, but only with the gems they were raised next to. It can be hard to keep track of which ones are linked, so we can’t yet stop making blood gems.”

“Why stop making blood gems?”

Evar looked at him in surprise. “You must know of their weaknesses?”

“Well … let me guess: the maker of these doesn’t constantly see the thoughts of the wearer?”

“Yes, and only the message that the user sends is picked up by the gem receiving it, not all their thoughts and feelings.”

“I can see how that would be an improvement.” Lorkin turned to regard the room. There were so many patches of gems, and tables laden with objects faced the walls everywhere. “What do those gems do?” he asked, waving at a large section.

Evar shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I suspect that’s an experiment. Some sort of weapon.”

“Weapon?”

“For the city’s defence, if we’re ever invaded.”

Lorkin nodded and said nothing more. Questions about weapons would be suspicious even to his new friend.

“Weapon stones have to do things that a magician can’t already do,” Evar told him. “For someone with little skill or training, or a magician who has run out of strength. I’m hoping they make one’s strikes more accurate. I wasn’t much good at battle training, so if we are ever attacked I’ll need all the help I can get.”

“Would you even be fighting?” Lorkin asked. “From what I understand, in battles with black magicians, lowly people like me and you are only useful as a source of extra magic. We’d probably give our power to a black magician then be sent somewhere out of the way.”

Evar nodded and gave Lorkin a sideways look. “I still think it’s strange that you call higher magic ‘black’.”

“Black is a colour of danger and power in Kyralia,” Lorkin explained.

“So you’ve said.” Evar looked away, his attention moving around the room as if searching for something else to show Lorkin. Then his eyes widened and he made a low noise. “Uh, oh.”

Turning to look in the direction toward which his friend was staring, Lorkin saw that a young woman had stepped into the room, entering from the larger main archway. He resisted casting about for the smaller back entrance; it must be several steps away and the woman was bound to see them before they got there.

Looks like we’re going to get into that trouble Kalia wanted us to avoid.

A moment later, the woman looked up and saw them. She smiled at Evar, then her gaze slid to Lorkin and her smile faded. She stopped, looked at him thoughtfully, then turned and walked out of the room.

“Have you seen enough? Because I think it might be a good time to go,” Evar said quietly.

“Yes,” Lorkin replied.

Evar took a step toward the back entrance and then stopped. “No, let’s go through the main way. We don’t want to look guilty now that we’ve been seen.”

They exchanged a grim smile, took deep breaths, and started toward the archway the woman had disappeared through. They had almost reached it when another woman appeared, scowling angrily. She saw them and strode over.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded of Lorkin.

“Hello Chava,” Evar said. “Lorkin’s here with me.”

She looked at Evar. “I can see that. What is he
doing
here?”

“I’m taking him on a tour,” Evar replied. He shrugged. “No rule against it.”