The Ambassador's Mission

They’d hidden among some dense, prickly bushes the previous day. These trees weren’t going to provide the same cover, however. Tyvara was staring at the ground. Lorkin felt a vibration, then heard a strange tearing sound followed by something between a thump and a popping noise. A cloud of dust rose up beyond the wall and the air filled with the smell of grit and dirt.

Before their feet a hole appeared.

“In you go,” Tyvara said, gesturing toward the hole.

“In there?” Lorkin crouched and peered into the darkness. “Are you hoping to bury me alive?”

“No, foolish Kyralian,” she snapped. “I’m trying to hide us both. Get inside before someone sees us.”

He put his hands on either side of the hole and let his legs dangle inside. There was no floor that he could reach. The prospect of falling into darkness didn’t appeal, so he created a spark of light within the space. It illuminated a hollow space under the ground, the curved floor not far below his feet. He let himself drop, then crouched to avoid scraping his head on the “ceiling” as he moved further inside.

The hollow was globe-shaped, mainly situated below the wall. Two holes showed circles of brightening sky above the field, one that he had entered and another that he guessed had been the exit for the dirt. The inside of the hollow was no doubt restrained from falling in and burying him by Tyvara’s magic.

She dropped and slid in beside him, immediately folding herself down into a sitting position facing him. The space was small for two people, and her legs brushed up against his. He hoped the flash of interest this stirred in him didn’t show somehow. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, then she sighed and looked away.

“Sorry for snapping at you. It can’t be easy for you to trust me.”

He smiled ruefully. The trouble is, I

want to trust her. I should be questioning every move she makes, especially after what she told me the other night. Well, I would, but when I get her talking something happens and she goes all silent on me again. She was watching him, her expression apologetic. Maybe I should try again.

“That’s fine. But it’s not the first time I’ve annoyed you tonight. What did I say, when we were discussing servants and the Traitors at the beginning of the night, that bothered you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened, then her mouth thinned into a line of reluctance. He thought she wasn’t going to answer, but she shook her head.

“I’ll have to explain eventually.” She grimaced and looked down at her knees. “Many years ago my people noticed that one of the Ichani that roam about the wasteland had a strange slave. A pale man, possibly a Kyralian.” Her gaze flickered up to meet his, then away. “Your father.”

Lorkin felt a chill run across his skin. Though he had heard the story before, his mother had always been reluctant to talk about this part of his father’s life.

“They watched for a long time and eventually realised that the slave was a Guild magician,” Tyvara continued. “This was unusual, as you may know already, as Sachakans don’t tolerate slaves knowing magic. If a slave develops powers naturally they will kill him, or her. Enslaving a foreign magician – especially a Guild magician – was extraordinary and dangerous. But this was no ordinary Ichani. He was cunning and ambitious.

“As my people watched, they guessed that your father did not know higher magic. Then, one day, the daughter of the leader of my people fell terribly ill and soon it was clear she was dying. Our leader had heard of the Guild’s skills in healing with magic. We’ve tried for many years to discover the secret for ourselves, without success. So our leader sent one of us out to meet your father and make an offer.” Tyvara’s face darkened. “She would teach him higher magic in exchange for Healing magic.”

She looked up at him. Lorkin stared back at her. His mother had never mentioned that his father had agreed to exchange anything for black magic, nor had anybody else in the Guild.

“And?” he prompted.

“He agreed.”

“He can’t – couldn’t – do that!” Lorkin blurted.

Tyvara frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s … it’s a decision only the Higher Magicians can make. And then probably only with the approval of the king. To give such valuable knowledge to another race … a people not of the Allied Lands … is too risky. And there would have to be something given in exchange.”

“Higher magic,” she reminded him.

“Which they would never have accepted in exchange. It is…” He caught himself. Revealing that black magic was forbidden would reveal the Guild’s greatest weakness. “It was not his decision to make.”