—I spoke to Sonea last night, Osen continued. She and Regin are staying in a house on the outskirts of the city. The Traitors have ordered them to stay there until summoned – which will most likely be when the battle is over.
To know that Sonea was close was reassuring, though Dannyl wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she could come to his rescue, if the House was attacked.
—Unfortunately this means she will not see how Lorkin fares, or know who is the victor. I have been considering the warning Achati and your former slave gave you, that the Guild House may be targeted. Is there anywhere else you can go?
—Somewhere we might witness the battle?
—If that can be arranged without compromising your safety and that of Merria and Tayend.
Dannyl considered. The ship Achati had arranged to wait for them would be a safe place to be, but one of the reasons for that was that the docks were far from where fighting was likely to take place – so not a good vantage point. Where would the battle most likely occur? The palace, eventually. And Achati’s mansion has a view of the parade leading to the palace. Perhaps if we climbed onto the roof...
—Can you get there safely? Osen asked.
Dannyl felt a chill at this reminder that his thoughts were open to the Administrator, thanks to the blood ring.
—Sorry. I am finding it hard to curb my impatience. Merin wants news and I was hoping you or Sonea would have contacted me by now, Osen sent.
Dannyl smiled in sympathy. For the Kyralian king to be putting pressure on the Administrator directly meant that he’d grown so anxious about the Sachakan situation he wasn’t content with High Lord Balkan’s reports.
—I suspect getting to Achati’s house will be the dangerous part, but we will see if it can be done, Dannyl sent back.
—Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Oh, and Sonea will be wearing one of my blood rings. We’re hoping she will also be able to see what you see.
—And come rescue me if something goes wrong?
—That would create less of a political mess than if she has to rescue Lorkin. Hmm. It could be a way to get the Traitors to let her enter the city. They’d find it harder to justify preventing her coming to the aid of the Guild Ambassador than of her son.
Dannyl’s heart skipped.
—You want me to get into trouble so she has an excuse to enter the city?
—No. But maybe we could pretend you are... No. Not unless we have to. Get yourselves to Achati’s house first, then we’ll consider other ideas.
—Very well.
—Good luck, Dannyl.
—Thanks, Osen.
Slipping off the ring, Dannyl dressed quickly in fresh robes. He paused to look back at the room. Was there anything else he ought to take with him? My notes? No. They’ll be safer left here than with me. If I’m killed, this place might be looted, but no looter will want notebooks. Later someone might go through our belongings more carefully. Hopefully a Guild magician, who will see the value in them. Maybe Achati... if he survives.
Pushing that thought aside, Dannyl turned and strode out of his suite in search of Merria and Tayend.
Lorkin sat cross-legged, his back against a wall. The Master’s Room of the estate the Traitors had gathered in was crowded, but they were taking care to keep clear a narrow path from corridor to corridor so that messengers could move about quickly and without tripping.
This was the third location Savara’s team had moved to during the night. The second had been another abandoned mansion; then, towards morning, they’d slunk through the silent city streets to a more defendable house chosen to be the gathering place before the final confrontation with the Ashaki. Lorkin hadn’t slept, and doubted that anyone else had either. Not that I would have been able to if I’d had the chance or there’d been room to lie down. A Traitor entered the room and looked towards him. He turned to see who it was and his heartbeat quickened as he saw it was Tyvara. She smiled and made her way over to him. There was no space for her to sit beside him, so he stood up. She handed him a vest.
“This is for you,” she said, raising her voice so he could hear her in the noisy room.
He felt his stomach do a little flip as the weight of it settled into his hands. All of the Traitors wore these vests. They were covered in small pockets, each holding gemstones fixed into settings of wood, stone or precious metal. He’d assumed he would be fighting without stones, since he’d had no training in using them in battle.
“It’s easier to use if you put it on,” Tyvara told him.
“Give me a moment,” he retorted. Shrugging into the vest, he found it was a little tight around the arms.
“I thought it would be a bit small,” Tyvara said, trying and failing to bring the buckles and straps at the front together. “But it’s the only one we could spare.”
“Well, it’s what’s in it that’s important,” he said.
“How the stones are arranged helps you find them if you can’t look away from the enemy, so if the fronts are flapping about you might grab the wrong one. But I guess you aren’t familiar with their positions anyway.” She sighed and looked up at him, her expression serious. “Just remember: the left side is for defensive stones, the right for offensive. The stronger ones are to the centre, the weaker to the sides. Make sure that if you take the vest off you don’t turn it upside down with the pockets unbuttoned, because if they fall out you won’t know which is stronger or weaker.”
Lorkin repeated what she’d said. He hadn’t seen the Traitors using stones when fighting up to this point. He guessed that they were saving them for the main battle, or that the stones were more useful in a bigger confrontation. The only stones he’d seen used so far were defensive, like the barrier stones that Halana had been setting when she’d been ambushed. Those had created simple shields, but others had been activated that used a shield as an alarm, not strong enough to prevent a person passing though but emitting a noise when they did. He had also seen a stone, accidentally activated, produce an opaque white non-resistant shield, and Savara had a stone that would block noise.
“The bigger pockets hold basic shield and strike stones,” Tyvara told him, patting a row of larger pockets near his waist. “The shield stones are all strong enough to hold against a few strikes, but how many or how powerful depends on the limits of each stone. Always be ready for their depletion with a shield of your own magic.”
She flipped open the top flap of a pocket and pulled out one of the stones. The setting was like a short spoon, with the gem filling the bowl. “Hold it like this.” She pinched the handle between two fingers and turned the concave side outwards. “Press your finger into the back of the gem to activate it. Face the gem away or you’ll direct the shield or strike at yourself.”
“That would be embarrassing,” he noted.
A glint of humour entered her gaze. “And potentially fatal. Which would be embarrassing to me. I’ll be forever known for choosing a very stupid man.”
He chuckled. “What about the other stones?”