Savara’s head tilted a little to one side. “How do the Allied Lands regard it?”
“I haven’t had the opportunity to ask them, yet. They know some decisions must be made quickly. The battle was already won and they do want to be sure our Healers will be safe here.”
“They will be.” Savara took a step backwards, and returned to her seat. “The Healers are a full day’s ride away, however. In the meantime, would you and the other Guild magicians here tend the worst injuries?”
Sonea’s chin rose and a light entered her eyes that Lorkin knew only too well. He caught his breath, then let it out in a quiet sigh.
“Of course,” she replied.
Savara nodded. “Lorkin will escort you to the mansion where the sick and injured are being housed, after I speak with him privately. You may go.”
Lorkin watched his mother, former colleagues and friends leave. As they disappeared into the corridor, Savara turned to him.
“Was asking them to Heal unwise?”
So she’d heard his reaction. He shrugged. “Mother set up the hospices in Imardin. Give her this work to do and she may never go home.”
Savara frowned. “And I thought you would be the reason she’d try to stay. I did not mean to make your task more difficult.”
“My task?”
“To persuade or arrange for your mother to go home. It’s nothing personal, and I don’t think ill of her, but I suspect she is someone I will not like having around.”
“No,” he agreed. He paused to think. “The way to get Mother to go home is to have Dannyl recommend it to the Guild. He may agree to do so if I can convince him it is a good idea, or perhaps as a favour to me. But I suspect just trying will make him suspect my motives. Though... there’s something else we can offer him to prove our intentions are peaceful, if you’ll agree to it.”
Savara leaned forward. “And what is that?”
As Lorkin led them out of the mansion, Sonea examined him critically. He looked thinner, though it might only be the Traitor style of clothing that gave the impression. Magician robes tended to conceal a lot, emphasising the shoulders and waist but hiding the rest. The close-fitting Traitor vest hugged his body. The fabric of his tunic and pants was rustic and undyed. In contrast to this humble garb, his fingers were clustered with rings, which would normally have given the impression of indulgence and wealth if she hadn’t guessed the stones were magical.
He started out towards the other side of the parade. His walk was relaxed and confident, she noted, but he was also constantly alert, his gaze roving over their surroundings. He feels secure in his place among the Traitors and has nothing to fear from the Guild except, perhaps, disapproval, but he knows the city isn’t completely safe yet.
Glancing back at her, he slowed until he was walking beside her.
“I wanted to contact you before the battle,” he said. “But everything happened so fast. We were making plans one moment and rushing out to meet the Ashaki the next.”
“What did you do with my blood ring?”
He grimaced in apology. “I have it with me. I should have hid it, but—”
“No, I would rather you had it with you to use if you needed.”
“Well... I suppose there’s a chance that if I’d been killed it would have been destroyed too.”
A chill ran down her spine. “Let’s not talk about you being killed.”
He grinned. “Fine with me.”
“So what will you do next?”
Lorkin’s expression became serious. “That depends on Savara. And Tyvara. It’s clear Savara has plans for Tyvara and, since Traitor women have all the responsibility and power and their men are expected to go along with it, I’ll end up going wherever she goes.”
“Will you be happy about that?”
He grinned. “Mostly. I love Tyvara, Mother. I love how being in charge is natural and normal to her, even though it can be frustrating at times. I also enjoy being the one who challenges that.”
Sonea resisted a sigh. “So you’re not coming home.”
He shook his head. “Not any time soon, I expect. Savara knows I’d like to be able to visit you, and the Guild. I’d still like to pass on the basic knowledge of stone-making, as Queen Zarala wished. Perhaps the Guild can do something else with it. Perhaps stone-producing caves will be found in the Allied Lands. If they do exist, the most likely place is the northern part of the Elyne mountains, where...”
A whoop came from a group of people entering the parade from a side street nearby. Lorkin stopped, placing himself between the newcomers and Sonea, then turned back to her and smiled. “Looks like there will be some celebrating tonight.”
Sonea looked beyond him to see that the men and women were carrying furniture. They weren’t dressed in Traitor garb, so she guessed they were freed slaves. Looking around, she realised there were several more groups of ex-slaves gathering along the road. Further away, a fire was burning. She heard Dannyl mutter a curse as they tossed the furniture on the ground and began to break it up. As two of the ex-slaves headed back to a nearby house, one called after them.
“Get some tinder!”
“And the wine!”
Lorkin ignored them and continued across the parade.
“They’re going to ransack the houses, aren’t they?” Dannyl asked, to nobody in particular.
“Probably,” Merria replied.
Dannyl sighed. “I should have locked the library,” he muttered.
The mansion Lorkin led them to was larger than most. A pair of Traitors stood by the door. They stared at the foreigners, but did not object as Lorkin led them through. Inside, they were confronted by chaos and noise. The usual short corridor was lined with people, and the Master’s Room was crowded with more. Some lay on the floor, injuries poorly bandaged or not at all. Others hovered over them, clearly not injured, sometimes four for every patient. Traitors hurried from the corridor on one side to the one on the other, tripping on limbs and all manner of objects from baskets of food to bottles of wine. One of the injured was clutching a large gold box even as the wound in her leg bled freely. From somewhere beyond the room came muffled screams and shouting.
“This is a mess!” Sonea exclaimed. “Isn’t anybody in charge here?”
The noise in the room diminished slightly. Heads had turned toward her. A Traitor who had just stepped into the room stopped and glared at her. Sonea cursed inwardly. She hadn’t meant to speak so loudly.
“Where’s Kalia?” Lorkin asked the Traitor.
“Treating someone,” the woman said.
“Who is checking the new patients?”
The woman shrugged and looked around. “Someone...”
Lorkin waved her on. “Go do whatever you were doing. I’ll sort this out.”
The woman hurried way. Lorkin looked down at his rings and pressed the stone of one of them. His gaze shifted to the distance and he was still for a long moment, then he nodded and straightened. He turned to Sonea.
“Savara is sending a Speaker over. She’ll make sure everyone here follows your orders. Kalia used to be in charge of the treatment of the sick in Sanctuary, but she broke a few laws and... well, she’s not herself at the moment. She’s only here because we need her expertise.” His dislike was obvious. “She knows a little Healing. The best way to handle her, I think, will be to give her patients to treat but not decisions to make.”
Sonea raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Savara is putting me in charge?”
“For tonight.” He grimaced. “It took a lot of persuading. We thought we could rely on Kalia but...” He shrugged. “I can’t tell you the details but she made a bad decision and it has shattered her confidence. She is a good Healer. Dedicated. You can trust her to do her job well.” He took a step toward the entrance. “Speaker Yvali will be here in a moment. I have to go. Ambassador Dannyl is to come back with me.”