Canavan Trudi - The Traitor Queen

If the only future she had was to be restricted to the Guild grounds, groomed to be a protector of the Allied Lands and the main target of any enemy who might attack, then she wanted to be treated with respect in return.

Failing that, with people like Bokkin who are too stupid to remember who’ll be risking their life for him, I’ll settle for being feared.

From her seat at the front of the Guildhall, Sonea watched the gathering magicians and struggled to keep her breathing slow and even.

What will they do? Is twenty years of getting used to the idea of black magic long enough for them to agree to take part in it? Will they consider my mission to free my son justification enough?

It would have been easier to dismiss these questions if the other Higher Magicians hadn’t also expressed the same concerns earlier. None could predict the outcome of the Meet. All had thought some magicians would refuse to give their magic and some would not, but their opinions differed greatly on the likely numbers of either.

On both sides of the long hall, magicians were taking their seats. As always, patches of green, red and purple formed where friends of the same discipline gathered together. The dominant colour was the Alchemist’s purple, but the numbers of Healers had grown in the last few decades and there was plenty of green around the hall. Though more Warriors existed than ever before, red robes were still in the minority. This didn’t worry her, though. While most magicians dedicated their energies to something more useful, she knew that the majority of them still maintained their fighting skills in their spare time.

At the front of the hall the Higher Magicians waited. Only Administrator Osen was missing from the tiered seats. As always he would address the room from the Front, the area before the Higher Magicians. Sonea looked at the row of seats above hers. The king’s chair was empty, but both King’s Advisers had joined the Meet — which was unusual. Adviser Glarrin met her eyes and nodded; Adviser Rolden, who had been present twenty years before when she and Akkarin had been judged and exiled, glanced at her and frowned.

Looking down, Sonea noted how the Higher Magicians in the lower tiers of seats kept casting glances upward. From his place among the Heads of Studies in the bottom row, Rothen met Sonea’s eyes. He looked grim, but managed a reassuring smile.

Their dinner the night before had been shadowed by frightening possibilities. She knew he was wondering if this was the last time he’d see her. It was another fear to add to the worry that he’d never see Lorkin again. He’d offered to go with her. She’d reminded him that he knew too much about her other reason for the journey. He’d nodded, then said that he would take comfort from the fact she had chosen a reliable assistant.

Looking around the hall, she searched for Lord Regin and found him sitting, as she’d expected, near the front. He looked serious and aloof. This might have been a deliberate mask of his true feelings, but it was hard to tell. He always looked serious and aloof.

I hope Rothen is right about him. Well, of course he is. Regin takes his responsibility to the Guild, Kyralia and the Allied Lands much too seriously to jeopardise our task.

Which meant, no matter how unpleasant things got between them, he would obey her orders.

Most of the magicians had settled in their seats now. Administrator Osen strode out in front of the Higher Magicians and a gong rang to mark the beginning of the Meet.

The room immediately quietened.

“At this Meet here today we have an exceptional situation to discuss and deal with,” Osen began, “and, as such, the course of action given to us will be unique in the history of the Guild.” He paused and looked around the room. “As you may already know, Ambassador Dannyl travelled to Sachaka some months ago to serve in the Guild House of Arvice. He took with him the young magician Lord Lorkin, who had volunteered to be his assistant.

“Not long after settling in Arvice, Lord Lorkin was saved from assassination by a slave. The slave was a spy for the people known as the Traitors, Sachakans who have lived separately to the rest of the country for hundreds of years. To evade future attacks on his life, this slave helped Lorkin flee to the Traitors’ secret home.

“There Lorkin learned more about these people. They reject slavery and though they use black magic they appear to live peacefully. They have a network of spies throughout Sachaka — though from all I have heard the main aim of their spying is their own protection.

“Recently Lorkin sought to return home. On arriving in Arvice he was summoned by King Amakira and ordered to reveal all he had learned of the Traitors. Knowing that he must give any such information to King Merin first, Lorkin refused. Though this was made clear to King Amakira, and he agreed when we sent the first ambassadors to Sachaka that they will answer to their own king, he sent Lorkin to the palace prison.”

Sonea felt her stomach sink. No matter how many times she heard it spoken, the thought of Lorkin in a dank cell made her heart shrivel.

The hall had grown quiet. Funny, I expected there to be protests and anger. I think they’re mostly too shocked to speak, though I’m not sure whether they’re more appalled at the audacity of Amakira daring to imprison a Guild magician, or at the possibility this might lead to another conflict with Sachaka.

“The king has approved our request to send a negotiator to seek Lorkin’s release,” Osen continued. “We chose our negotiator carefully, considering who might have the greatest influence on the Sachakan king. The Sachakan prejudice against magicians who do not know black magic narrowed our choices.” Osen turned to look up at the Higher Magicians and held out his arm toward Sonea as if offering her a hand out of a carriage. “We chose Black Magician Sonea.”

She felt her skin prickle and her face heat as hundreds of gazes shifted to her. A murmur of voices filled the hall. Resisting an urge to look down and away, she stared back at the assembled magicians, heart beating a little too fast. What will they do?

Osen’s outstretched hand beckoned. Swallowing a sigh, she rose and started to descend the steep stairs to the Front.

“But the advantage in sending a black magician will not count unless that black magician is as powerful as we can make her,” Osen continued. As Sonea reached his side, he glanced at her once then turned to face the assembly. “The permission of the king has been granted for Black Magician Sonea to gather strength for this mission. We call for volunteers to give their power to this cause.”

The hum of voices that had been gathering now grew louder, swelled, then diminished again. Osen, judging their mood, raised his arms and the room fell into a restless quiet.

“This is the first time such permission has been granted, and thankfully not for the reason we have long feared. We have learned, in the last twenty years, that black magic need not involve barbaric rituals and unpleasant bloodletting. Though this fact is taught to our novices and such reassurances given to all else, there may be some for whom this is not clear. I call upon Black Magician Sonea to explain.”

Sonea drew in a deep breath and worked magic into the air before her to amplify her voice.

“Sachakan magicians cut the skins of their slaves because their slaves are not magicians and can’t offer up their power. They do the same to their victims in war because their victims are hardly going to offer up their power willingly. The ritual of higher magic in our past was a symbolic gesture of an apprentice’s submission to his master, and no longer relevant.”

She managed a smile, though she suspected it would look more grim than reassuring. “I only require a magician to draw and send power to me so I can take it and store it. That is all. The giver need do nothing more than a trick taught to every novice in their first year of University.” She looked around the hall. That’s really all the explanation it needs, she thought, but as Osen began to turn away from her she thought of something else.