Between this and the next set of items he’d squeezed in “That the Duna tribesmen knew (and perhaps still do) how to make magical gemstones. That these gemstones are made (not natural). That the Traitors stole the knowledge from them”. All this he’d learned from Unh, the tribesman who had tracked Lorkin and his Traitor abductors.
Next was a longer set of observations from the records he’d bought.
That Narvelan, the leader of the Kyralians ruling Sachaka, had owned a slave, was considered crazy, stole the storestone, and used it to create the wasteland either deliberately or in a confrontation between himself and his Kyralian pursuers.
That the threat of using the storestone most likely kept the stronger force of surviving Sachakan magicians under control, and once it was removed Kyralia was forced to return the country to Sachakan rule.
That the wasteland appeared, at first, to begin recovering, then failed as the area began to grow instead.
It was a good list, Dannyl decided. It was only frustration at making no progress recently that made it seem like he hadn’t achieved anything here. However, there were still questions to be answered.
Leaning forward, Dannyl began to write a list of what he still wanted to find.
“Proof I can take home with me that Imardin wasn’t destroyed in the Sachakan War.” Achati seemed to prefer that Dannyl didn’t buy Sachakan records, but maybe he wouldn’t mind the occasional purchase. If Dannyl was to convince anyone of his theory that Imardin had been destroyed later, he would need to have a document to show them.
“Proof that the mad apprentice destroyed Imardin.” Dannyl didn’t think he’d find this in Sachaka, however.
“Where did the storestone come from? How was it made? Was it made, or natural? Do any still exist? Does anybody know how to make them?”
Dannyl could not help wondering if Lorkin knew the answers to these questions. The Traitors had stolen the secret of making magical gemstones from the Duna. If anyone other than the Duna knew the answers, the Traitors did.
Dannyl winced as he remembered the Sachakan king’s request that he establish communications with Lorkin. He’d asked Merria, his assistant, to investigate if she stumbled upon any information. But who are we supposed to enquire of? The Ashaki no longer invite me to dinner and I never took her with me anyway. I doubt the slaves have any way of reaching Lorkin other than through the Traitors.
He considered his lists again. The idea behind writing them was to give him a clear idea of what he was looking for while visiting the Duna tribes or Sachakan country estates. While he had answered some questions he’d had about history, it was always better to have several sources to quote from when claiming that an event happened or went a certain way, so he would still have to look for references to Imardin surviving the Sachakan War and Narvelan stealing the storestone. As for information about storestones, he had only one source to draw upon: the Duna. He couldn’t ask the Traitors, so he had to rely on Lorkin recording what they knew and eventually getting the information to him.
The only worry he had about the coming journey was how the Duna would react to him and his questions. Unh had been friendly, but the tribesmen in the market had reacted badly to his mention of Unh. But they were friendly before then. Maybe if I don’t mention him …
“Ambassador Dannyl?”
He looked up. The voice was Merria’s and came from the main room.
“Come in, Lady Merria,” he called. Footsteps drew closer and she stepped into the doorway of his office. He beckoned, gesturing for her to sit on the chair for visitors. “How are you doing?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Fine. I imagined there’d be a lot more paperwork and not very much interaction with the people, due to their customs in regard to women. It’s been very much the opposite.”
“You’ve been seeing a lot of the women Ashaki Achati introduced you to?”
“Yes, and their friends. They have quite a network. They never meet all at once, of course. The men would think they were forming a secret rebel society.” Her smile told him how much this amused her. “You’d think having all these women passing on messages to each other would make them suspicious, but …” She shrugged. “Maybe they don’t notice.”
Dannyl nodded. “I haven’t heard anything about it. Do you think they’re organising anything?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, except that a few days after I commented that Lorkin’s mother would like to hear from him I got a message saying he is in the Traitor city and is fine. I was also invited to send him a message in return.”
Dannyl’s heart skipped. “Where is this message they gave you?”
Merria shook her head. “It was verbal. The women never write anything down.”
He considered what she had told him. “Do you think this came through the Traitors?”
She nodded. “I can’t see how else such messages would get to him, if he’s in the Traitor city and only Traitors ever go there. Unless there are spies among the spies.”
“It’s possible.”
She shook her head. “I think it’s more likely the women only say they hate the Traitors so that the men let them see each other.”
Dannyl nodded in agreement. “Don’t say that to anyone else,” he advised.
Any sort of communication with Lorkin was better than none. Though King Amakira had told him to contact Lorkin some other way than through the Traitors, Dannyl did not want to lose this opportunity. He had plenty of questions for Lorkin, though what he could ask was limited by the fact that others would hear or see the message.
He should also contact Administrator Osen through his blood ring and find out if Sonea wanted to send Lorkin a message, too. That would make Sonea very happy. And the more Higher Magicians who considered what message to send, the less chance they’d send one that would have political ramifications.
“Stay there,” he said to Merria. “I’ll see what the Guild has to say.”
Lilia woke to the sensation of pounding in her head. She groaned. Roet had left her feeling dull, low and tired before, but not this sick. Maybe the wine had been stronger than usual. She hadn’t drunk that much of it.
Then a different pounding started outside her head. Someone was knocking on the door. She forced open an eye, but naturally she couldn’t see through doors. It was probably the servants.
“Go away,” she said weakly, closing her eye again.
The knocking stopped. She frowned. Maybe the servants could give her something for the headache. She opened her mouth to call out.
The door opened. Both of her eyes sprang open as if by their own volition. She saw magicians entering the room instead of servants, and it took a moment for her mind to catch up and comprehend this.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows. At once she was aware that she was no longer dressed in her robes. When had she changed into bedclothes? She grabbed the sheets to pull them up and cover herself, and felt something dry and powdery on the skin of her palms. She turned over her hands. Something dark had dried onto them.
Wine? I don’t remember getting it on my hands. And it would be sticky …
The magicians surrounded the bed. She looked up at them, recognising one of Lord Leiden’s Healer friends and … her heart stopped … Black Magician Kallen.
“Lady Lilia?” Kallen asked.
“Y-yes?” Lilia’s heart began beating again, much too fast. “What’s going on?”
“Lord Leiden is dead,” the Healer said.