“I’d wager he did, and nobody noticed,” Vinara said. “Why would he take Lilia …?” Her expression changed to one of horrified realisation. “Oh.”
The room went very quiet. Sonea looked at Kallen, wondering if he had already considered what Vinara had just realised. His expression was one of forced patience. Yes, he’s well aware of the danger – and itching to do something about it. She resisted the temptation to smile, knowing it would be taken the wrong way.
“Why were they put next to each other?” Garrel asked suddenly. “A cunning rogue and a bl— … an easily manipulated young woman. Surely this was a disaster waiting to happen. Lilia could have told Lorandra how to use black magic, without them even leaving their rooms.”
Some of the Higher Magicians looked at the captain. Garrel, and a few others, were looking at Sonea or Kallen. Sonea looked at Rothen, who met her gaze with a knowing expression. He’d warned her that she could easily be blamed for Lilia’s escape, since she had visited Lorandra and Lilia and hadn’t noticed any flaws in their prison arrangement.
“We were told to ensure they were treated well,” the captain replied. “We thought that, since both were women, they could keep each other company. I … I see that was a mistake, now.”
Sonea’s heart went out to the man. It wasn’t entirely his fault that the pair had escaped either. She frowned. Is he trying to shift the blame all onto himself, to save his men?
“Now Lilia and Lorandra are keeping Skellin company,” Osen said. “I …”
He paused at a knock at the door. Looking up, he narrowed his eyes at it and it swung open.
Dorrien stepped inside. “Forgive the interruption, Administrator,” he said. “But I have information that may be of importance to this discussion.”
The door closed behind him, and Osen beckoned. “What is it, Lord Dorrien?”
“A woman who services one of the Inner City houses facing the Guild wall came to the hospice this morning,” he said. “It took some time for her to see a Healer, since she obviously wasn’t ill,” he added wryly. “She told us that she saw two women climb over the wall last night, a few hours after dark. One was old and had dark skin, the other was young and pale. When she heard about the prisoners who had escaped from the Guild, she remembered it and came to tell us.”
“Nobody else was with them?” Osen asked.
“No.”
Sonea frowned. So if Skellin didn’t rescue them then how did they …? As a suspicion crept over her, the room didn’t feel as warm. Surely not …
“Why did she come to the hospice?” Lord Peakin asked. “Why not come here?”
Dorrien smiled crookedly. “Her services aren’t of the respectable kind.”
“How do you know she is telling the truth? Did she ask for money?” Garrel asked.
“I don’t and no, she didn’t,” Dorrien told him. “She was, as I expect the rest of the city to be, frightened by the thought of a rogue magician and a black magician free in the city.”
“How did this news get out so quickly?” Vinara asked, looking around the room.
Osen sighed. “A slip of the tongue, I’m sure,” he said. “It’s out; let’s concentrate on what this woman’s information means. Lord Dorrien, thank you for bringing it to us.”
Dorrien inclined his head and left. The Administrator turned to the captain and his guard and the Warrior from the Lookout, and thanked them for their assistance. The trio took the cue and departed, too. Once the room was occupied only by Higher Magicians, Osen moved to the front of his desk and crossed his arms.
“We have one small gleam of hope left to us. Unless Skellin sent Lilia and Lorandra on alone after he freed them, they weren’t in his company. Working out how they escaped the Lookout is not as important as finding them before they join Skellin.” He looked at Kallen. “That is your task. Find them.”
Kallen inclined his head, then headed for the door.
Osen turned to Sonea.
“As always, yours is Skellin. Find him.”
This was not a time for raising doubts by protesting that if it was as simple as that, she’d have caught Skellin already – or for showing any resentment at Osen ordering her about like a mindless soldier. She turned and strode for the door.
I am a mindless soldier, as far as the Guild is concerned, she thought sourly, as she entered the corridor. That is why they allowed me to stay. I am their black magician, to be sent out to fight on their behalf, and they’d much rather I did what I was told than suggest how things should be done. Well, they will have to accept that sometimes I will do things my way, if they want me to risk my life to save theirs.
Dorrien was waiting for her on the University steps, a Guild carriage standing ready.
“I thought you might want a lift,” he said.
She felt a sudden mad desire to hug him, but resisted, knowing how Alina would take it if someone saw and mentioned it to her.
“We need to arrange a meeting with Cery,” she told him as she climbed aboard the carriage. “As soon as possible.”
“I thought you might,” Dorrien said. “I hope it was the right thing to do, but I’ve sent a message to him already.”
She nodded. “Thanks. But as for whether it’s the right thing to do … I certainly hope so. If Anyi dies because the Guild wants us to hurry things up, I don’t think I’d forgive myself.”
Dorrien’s expression became serious. “Nor I.”
Though small for a ship, and built for speed, the Inava’s interior was surprisingly roomy. The slave crew slept in the hull. Dannyl had once glimpsed it through the hatch: rows of hammocks swinging like the limp, empty husks of some sort of exotic tree nut. Above deck were only two neat rooms – one for the captain and one for guests.
In the guest room were two single fold-down beds and a table that converted into a larger bed. Only Tayend’s bed had been used in the last three days, as he spent all the time they were at sea sleeping under the influence of the seasickness cure. They had all spent the nights on dry land, at estates along the coast.
The cure for seasickness that Achati had given Tayend made him groggy and sleepy, but the Elyne had accepted this with no complaint, spending most of each day’s journey snoring softly on the bed. Dannyl and Achati occupied themselves on deck in good weather, or inside during squalls. The morning of the third day had brought rain and a chill wind from the south, so today they were keeping warm inside.
“Ashaki Nakaro gave me this last night,” Achati said, his voice quiet so as not to disturb Tayend. He placed a book on the table. “He said we might find something useful in it about the Duna.”
Dannyl picked up the book. It had no title, but the lack was explained when Dannyl opened it and saw the dates next to the entries. It was another record book. The pages had opened at a slim black plaited thread, similar to many place markers that Dannyl had found in Sachakan records.
We have arrived at the camp. My first impression is that it is too large to call it that any more, and many of the Ashaki are now adopting the slaves’ habit, and calling it Camp City. I expect it will soon be named after somebody. Not the king, in case the enterprise is a failure. More likely Ashaki Haniva.
“Haniva,” Dannyl said. “Isn’t that where we’re heading?”
Achati nodded. “It is the port town closest to the Duna lands. The camp was further inland, at the top of the escarpment, but Haniva was smart enough to avoid having it named after himself. He knew that attempts by Sachakans to rule the Duna and settle their land had been failures many times in the past, and wasn’t about to risk that his own name would be remembered in connection to another one.”