Canavan Trudi - The Traitor Queen

The bowl was full of a cold, opaque soup. The goblet contained wine. There were no utensils.

If any of this is poisoned, I won’t know until I try eating it. I’ve never had to Heal away poison before. It’ll use up more of Tyvara’s power than simply quashing hunger. Should I risk it? Do I need to eat badly enough?

The particles in the soup were settling to the bottom, leaving most of the liquid clear. But the growing sediment was not forming a flat layer. It clung to something lying at the bottom. Something square and thin. He felt a tingle run down his spine.

Aware that the watcher was observing his every move, he drew a tiny amount of magic and used it to gently nudge the particles away from the object. At first the soup clouded at the slightest stirring, but soon it settled allowing him to confirm what he’d suspected.

The object was a piece of paper.

‘ Boil soup to make safe. Bread good. Wine bad.’

Beneath was a squiggle. It would have been taken as a flourish or hastily drawn initials by someone else, but Lorkin recognised it as one of the code signs the Traitors had told him to look for.

They know I’m here, he thought, his heart lifting in relief and hope. They’re going to get me out of here. But even as the thought crossed his mind he knew he could not expect that much. The prison was under the very palace itself and guarded by Ashaki and the independent, fiercely loyal guard class that was unique to this place.

It was nice to know the Traitors were trying to help him, though. Drawing more magic, he set the soup boiling. That at least explained to the watcher why he’d been staring at it so intently. He still drank it slowly and paid attention to his body in case the note was a clever lie. The bread was stale, so he dipped it in the soup to soften it.

He didn’t touch the wine. Would the interrogator, or whoever had poisoned it, wonder how Lorkin had known to avoid it, or would he assume Lorkin simply didn’t want his senses fogged by wine during the next session?

Not long after he’d finished eating, the slave returned for the tray. Lorkin held it up for the man to take. The slave’s gaze rose to meet his.

“Lord Dannyl says King Merin wants you to tell them everything,” the man said, his words barely a whisper.

Lorkin nodded to show he understood, and turned away so that the watcher would not see his smile.

As if I’d believe that! They must think I’m stupid, if they think I’d accept such an order from anyone but Dannyl himself. Even then… I’d have to consider that Dannyl was being blackmailed or threatened.

Administrator Osen had given Lorkin a code word as well, in case the Sachakans tried something like this. Forcing the smile from his face, Lorkin leaned back against the wall and waited for the interrogator to arrive and the day’s questioning to begin.

The Foodhall was almost vibrating with noise, despite the midday meal finishing some time ago. Lilia resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at the other novices. The sudden announcement that lessons had been cancelled for the afternoon while the entire Guild attended a Meet had sent them into a mix of giddy exhilaration at their unexpected freedom and excited speculation as to the cause of the meeting.

Lilia already knew the reason for it, but nobody was asking her and she had much more important things to worry about. Like keeping Cery, Gol and Anyi fed and supplied with lamp oil and candles. Lilia had decided Jonna, Sonea’s servant, was the key to both. She had to find a way to persuade the woman to bring more supplies these things to Sonea’s rooms, without it sounding suspicious.

It was easy enough to smuggle small items into the tunnels. The lacquered boxes that servants used to carry food could be lowered down the gap in the wall of Sonea’s room using magic. Larger items like whole pieces of furniture weren’t going to fit in the narrow space, however. Perhaps they could use other entrances to the tunnels. She had heard that there were some in the University.

Even if she did find another way in, most of the furniture in the Guild was old and valuable so likely to be missed. The servants’ furniture might be less precious, but they lived and worked away from the areas magicians and novices frequented. If Lilia wandered over to the servants’ quarters, or even slipped into the kitchens beside the Foodhall, she’d stand out like, as her mother would say, “a prince at a beggar’s ball”.

I need to find cast-offs that nobody is using. They’ll probably be broken, but I suppose we can try to fix them. We might have to pull them apart and reassemble them anyway, to get them into the tunnels. I’d have to get hold of some wood and nails — and tools. Hmm, if I’m going to do that, maybe we could smuggle wood in and make furniture from scratch.

“Look, it’s the black novice.”

The words were spoken loudly and from close by. Lilia looked up and met the eyes of the speaker. He was Bokkin, a tall novice — a lowie who liked to bully those weaker than him. None of the lowies protested too loudly because he was bold enough to pick on the snooties as much as the lowies.

He’d stopped to lean on a nearby table, the usual group of followers hovering around him. She doubted they actually liked him. More likely they allied themselves with him to avoid being his target.

“Got anybody killed lately?” he asked, his lips twisted in a sneer.

She tilted her head to the side and pretended to consider. “Well, no actually.”

“What are you going to do with yourself now that Black Magician Sonea is leaving?” He pushed away from the table. “You’ll be all alone in her rooms. Got a new girlfriend? Or do you want to see what a man’s like for once?” He strutted up to her table and thrust his groin close to her face. “How about I show you what you’ve been missing?”

So they know Sonea’s leaving. Lilia leaned back and looked up at him. She’d considered that someone might try to take advantage of the situation, but hadn’t expected anyone to test her so soon.

“You never showed any interest before.” She stood up slowly, staying close so that her face ended up near to his, and stared straight into his eyes. “Must be the black magic that changed your mind. You’re attracted to it, aren’t you? The thrill of danger. I’ve been told to watch for people like you.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she grabbed his face, fingers digging into the flesh of his jaw. At the same time she pushed at him with a sharp jab of magic, forcing him to stagger backwards before he could summon up the magic to resist it. She followed and pressed him back against the edge of the next table.

“You know what’s going on in that Meet? Black Magician Sonea is taking power from every magician in the Guild. Using black magic. One day — maybe one day soon — I might do that to you. You’ll have no choice. King’s orders. Do you really want to give me reason to make it as unpleasant as possible?”

He stared back at her, his face pale. She let go and wiped her hand on the front of his robe. The novices around her were silent, and the silence was spreading. She did not take her eyes from Bokkin, but she could see in the edges of her vision that faces were turning toward her.

“You had better hope she returns,” she told him. She turned her back, picked up her bag and the pieces of fruit and spiced bread rolls she’d collected for her evening meal, and left the hall.

As she stepped into the corridor she felt a rush of triumph.

That’ll get them talking. And worrying about the reason for Sonea’s trip to Sachaka, but they’ll wonder about that anyway. I’m not going to let anyone think that her leaving makes me vulnerable.