“They won’t execute Kalia,” she told him, looking away.
“Well …” He looked over at Kalia and shuddered. “That’s probably a good thing. Even if she did plan to kill me. It means the rest of the Traitors are better people than she is.”
A bell rang out and he looked over to the Speakers in surprise. That was quick.
“We have decided,” Riaya declared when the room quietened. “Speaker Kalia will be stripped of her title, and will never be considered for a Speaker’s position again. She will be given menial duties for a year, for the benefit of the city. She is forbidden to use or teach Healing magic unless ordered to. If she is deemed to be trustworthy, she may apply to return to working in the Care Room, but never in a position of leadership.”
Protests were voiced in the audience. Lorkin felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. That’s not a punishment. It’s a delay. Eventually, when they’ve made a good enough act of looking contrite, they’re going to let her use the knowledge she stole from me. He felt betrayed. Tricked. Maybe this was the plan all along. He thought of Tyvara’s warning …
The protests stopped and he looked around to see the cause. The queen had risen from her seat, one hand on the arm of the chair to steady herself.
“In compensation for the abuses he has suffered,” she said, “and the secrets that were taken, Lorkin is to be taught the art of stone-making.”
Lorkin stared at the queen in surprise. She met his gaze, her eyes bright with amusement. Realising he was gaping at her, he quickly stopped himself and lowered his gaze. A thrill of excitement ran through him. At last! New magic to bring back to the … As quickly as it had come, the excitement faded. He could not take the knowledge to the Guild. He was stuck here in Sanctuary, forbidden to leave. And besides, leaving Sanctuary would mean leaving Tyvara.
With the Traitors in possession of Healing, he no longer had anything to use to lure them into trading with the Guild and Allied Lands. Looking at it that way, he realised he had failed. The Traitors had gained Healing, the Guild still did not have stone-making.
But I must not lose hope. Perhaps, one day, they’ll let me go. I could run away, but if I fail they will never trust me again. I must be patient.
He looked up at the queen again. She nodded once, then turned back to the Speakers.
The six women wore vastly different expressions. A few looked aghast, a few approving, and Savara actually looked surprised and a little worried. The audience was abuzz with chatter. Lorkin caught looks of worry and disgust, as well as smiles of agreement.
Riaya’s bell rang out again. She stood up.
“The judgement of Kalia is made. The punishment decided. This trial is concluded and the laws of Sanctuary upheld. May the stones keep singing.”
The audience murmured the reply with enthusiasm, then a cacophony of voices and footsteps filled the room and people began to move toward the doors. Lorkin heard shouts from outside the room as news was passed along the corridors.
“Well, I’m glad that’s over with,” he said.
“Not quite,” Tyvara replied.
He looked at her.
“Someone has to teach you stone-making.”
“You?”
She shook her head. “You don’t teach your greatest secrets to the people you send out to live as spies among the enemy. And I never had the patience for it.”
“You preferred pretending to be a slave than stone-making?” He frowned. “How difficult is it?”
She patted his arm. “Don’t worry. It’s really not that dangerous, once you know what you’re doing. Come on. Unlike you, I haven’t had an enormous breakfast and a sleep-in. Let’s get some food.”
She hooked a hand under his arm again, and drew him into the stream of people pouring into the corridor where, to his surprise and delight, he received many apologies and sympathetic pats on the shoulder. For all their faults, they were a good people, he decided. Especially when he remembered that what Kalia had done to him was done to thousands of slaves every day down in the rest of Sachaka.
“And yes, I am allowed to see you now,” Tyvara told him. He grinned at her, and she smiled.
Sonea knocked on the door of the treatment room. It opened and, to her amusement, Dorrien looked relieved.
“Ah, good,” he said. “End of my shift, then?”
“Yes. How are you doing?” she asked.
He sighed. “It’s quite draining, isn’t it? By the end of the day I can feel how depleted my reserves of magic are.”
“Yes, on busy days.” Sonea shrugged and sat down on one of the chairs for patients. “If we don’t use our power each day, it goes to waste.” Though if he is draining himself too much he will be of no use to me should we confront Skellin. I must have a chat to the Healers here about his work load.
“Oh, I’m not complaining. I agree. I’m just not used to it.” He grimaced. “Alina and the girls aren’t used to it either.”
Sonea frowned. “You need to use magic at home? I guess we could reduce—”
“No, that’s not it. I’m … I guess being tired makes me a little grumpy. Alina can be …” He waved a hand, frowning as he searched for the right word. Sonea waited. Though there were a few words that came into her mind – jealous, possessive, insecure – they weren’t exactly the polite way to describe his wife’s manner.
“She has a lot to adjust to,” Sonea told him. “A tired husband who is absent more than he used to be, a city she doesn’t know, being far from people who know and understand her – and I’m sure she’s not a little afraid for you.”
Dorrien nodded. “Sometimes …”
Sonea waited, but Dorrien looked pained and shook his head.
“Sometimes what?” she urged gently.
He looked down at the table. “Sometimes,” he said in a low, guilt-ridden voice, “I wish I hadn’t married her.”
Sonea stared at him in surprise. She had urged him to speak because she had assumed he wanted to admit he was afraid as well. He looked up at her, his eyes shadowed and unreadable.
“I should have married a magician. We’d have had … more in common.”
Looking away, Sonea grabbed at the first thing she could think of to shake him from this line of thinking. Much as she didn’t like Alina, she did not want to see Dorrien hurt his family. Moving to the city had highlighted the differences between him and his wife. They had distracted him from the similarities.
“You have the village in common and the love of the country. That may seem less significant now, but it is where you have always felt you belonged.”
Dorrien gazed at her unhappily, then his shoulders dropped and he nodded. “You’re right. It’s like Alina’s distrust makes me wonder if she sees something I can’t. I’m tired of her questions.”
“About the hospice? And the search?”
He nodded. “Among other things.”
“Then bring her here one day. Show her what we do. At least you can take the mystery out of one aspect of your work.”
A thoughtful look crossed his face, then he looked at her and got to his feet. “Well, I guess we should swap places.”
She nodded and stood up, waiting until he had stepped out from behind the table before she slipped past and sat down in the chair he’d been sitting in.
“No messages from Cery?” she asked.
“No,” he replied.
She sighed. “The Administrator has decided to check on our progress as many times a day as he can,” she warned him. “Don’t be surprised if he drops by your home.”