Lorkin followed the young magician’s gaze to the room entrance. A young female magician was standing there, beckoning to him. He exchanged a sympathetic look with Evar.
“I think you’re right,” he said. “Good luck.”
“You, too.”
They stood up and headed for the doorway, Lorkin reached it first. The woman looked him up and down and smirked. Lorkin figured she was considering his ability to cause her trouble, but couldn’t quite shake off the impression she was considering his potential for much more recreational physical activity.
“The Table is assembled and they want to talk to you both. You’re to go first.” She nodded at Lorkin. “Follow me.”
They walked in silence. The people they passed barely glanced at them, adding to the impression that nobody was taking his tour of the stone-makers’ caves all that seriously. Finally, they reached the entrance to the Speaker’s Chamber and stopped. Seven women sat around the curved stone table at the low end, but the tiers of seats fanning out from it for an audience were empty. Lorkin noted that the gem-encrusted chair for the Traitors’ queen was empty, as he expected. The old monarch only joined in the more important ceremonies, and he doubted she’d be at all interested in attending this one.
Director Riaya, a thin, tired-looking woman who guided proceedings, saw him and beckoned. He left Evar and the escort and walked toward the Speakers. Stopping before the table, he turned to face Riaya.
“Lorkin,” Riaya said. “You’ve been summoned before us to explain your presence in the stone-makers’ cave three nights ago. What purpose did you have there?”
“To view the stones in their stages of development,” he replied.
“That is all?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Why did you want to view the stones?” one of the Speakers asked.
He turned to regard her. Yvali was her name, and she tended to side with Kalia and the Traitor faction that had wanted him killed for his father’s misdeeds. But she did not always support them, he’d noted.
“Curiosity,” he replied. “I’d been told so much about them, their beauty and the skill involved in creating them, that I wanted to see them for myself. I have seen nothing like them before.”
“Did you learn all you wanted to learn?”
He shrugged. “I would like to learn how to make them, of course, but I did not expect to learn that by looking at them. Evar assured me it was not possible, and if he had not I would not have gone there. Just as you respect my right to keep secure the valuable knowledge I am entrusted with, I respect yours.”
There. That should remind them of the potential for a trade between the Guild and Traitors.
Kalia’s eyes narrowed and her lips thinned, but the others looked more thoughtful than sceptical. As he let his gaze move along the line of women, he noted the faintest smile curling Savara’s lips, but it vanished as he met her gaze.
Speaker Savara had been Tyvara’s mentor and was the unofficial leader of the faction that opposed Kalia’s. She had been charged with making sure he was “obedient and useful” as well.
“Why didn’t you inform anyone other than Evar of your intention to visit the caves?” she asked.
“I was not aware that I needed to.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Someone who acknowledges that the secret of making the stones is ours to keep should be smart enough to work out that we want to be consulted before any tours of the stone-makers’ cave are undertaken.”
He hung his head a little. “I apologise. I still find the more subtle manners of Sanctuary a little confusing. I will try harder to learn and adapt.”
She gave the faintest snort, but said nothing more, instead looking at the Director and shaking her head. The other Speakers also shook their heads, and whatever this indicated made the Director sigh faintly.
“Since you have not broken a law or rule, or disobeyed an order, you are not to be punished,” Riaya said. “We are partly to blame for not anticipating this situation, but we can prevent it occurring again. Lorkin,” she paused and fixed him with an unwavering stare, “you are ordered to keep away from the stone-making caves, unless taken there by a Speaker or her representative. Is that clear?”
He gave her a typical shallow Kyralian bow. “Perfectly.”
She nodded. “You may go.”
He walked away, fighting the urge to smile, knowing that anyone who saw it might interpret it as proof he had been up to something – or at least did not take this little slap on the wrist seriously. Then Evar entered the room, his thin face taut with worry, and the urge to smile vanished.
As they passed, Lorkin nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring way. The young magician grimaced, but his eyes seemed to warm a little at Lorkin’s gesture. Stepping into the corridor, Lorkin felt a pang of guilt at getting his friend into trouble.
Evar knew what he was getting into, he reminded himself. It was mostly his idea, and I did try to talk him out of it. We both knew that if we were discovered, though we would break no laws, Kalia would find a way to punish us anyway.
He suspected the young magician had his own reasons for arranging something that would irk the leaders of Sanctuary. There had definitely been some sort of vengeance or spite involved. Whenever Lorkin had tried to find out what it was, Evar had muttered things about the Traitors not being as fair as they claimed to be.
Whatever the reason, Lorkin hoped the young man had gained whatever satisfaction he’d been seeking, and that he wouldn’t come to regret it.
As the carriage pulled to a gentle stop before the Sachakan king’s palace, Dannyl drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. A slave opened the door of the vehicle and stepped aside. Climbing out, Dannyl paused to smooth his robes and look up at the building.
A wide central archway lay ahead of him. From either side, white walls rippled outwards in wide curves. Above them, only narrow bands of gold were visible of the shallow domes that topped the building.
Dannyl straightened his back, fixed his eyes on the shadowed corridor within the archway, and strode inside. He passed immobile guards, one of the few classes of free servants in Sachaka. It was better to have willing, loyal men protecting you than resentful, easily cowed slaves, Dannyl mused. Guards who were obliged to throw themselves to the ground every time a free man or woman walked by weren’t going to be much good at stopping invaders.
As in the typical Sachakan home, the entry corridor was straight and took visitors to a large room designed for greeting guests. Only this corridor was wide enough for six men to walk abreast. According to Ashaki Achati, the walls were hollow and contained concealed holes, so that attackers could shoot arrows and darts at unwelcome visitors. Dannyl could see no obvious holes and hatches, but he suspected the alcoves that were spaced along the corridor, each containing a beautifully crafted pot, could be reached from within, their inner surface broken if needed. Picturing such a scenario, he wondered if the warriors within the walls would carefully put the precious vessels aside, or knock them out of the way.
The other difference between a humble Sachakan mansion and the palace was that the corridor ended at a very large room. Dannyl entered the great hall, feeling his skin prickle in the cold air. Walls, floor and the many columns that supported the ceiling were polished white stone, as was the throne.