Canavan Trudi - The Traitor Queen

A movement drew his attention to the doorway in time to see Kai throw himself on the floor.

“A carriage from the palace has arrived, master,” the slave said.

Achati again. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. This doesn’t get easier. Opening his eyes, he dried the ink on the page, cleaned his pen, stowed everything away in a drawer and protected it all with magic. Dismissing Kai, he straightened his back and made his way to the Master’s Room.

The door slave was literally hopping from one foot to another, until he saw Dannyl and dove face-first onto the floor.

“Lord Lorkin has returned, master!” he declared.

Dannyl’s heart skipped a beat. “Lorkin?”

He hurried forward, but Sonea’s son was already emerging from the entrance corridor. As the young man entered the room Dannyl felt a chill run down his spine. Something has happened to him, he thought, though he wasn’t sure how he knew. Dannyl looked Lorkin over. There was no sign of injury, though it was hard to tell when Guild robes concealed so much. Other than dark shadows under his eyes suggesting a lack of sleep, Lorkin looked well.

“Ambassador Dannyl,” he said.

“You’re free!” Dannyl had to resist an urge to hug the young man, instead grasping Lorkin’s arm in the usual gesture of Kyralian greeting. “What happened? King Amakira let you go?”

“Yes,” Lorkin replied.

“Do you know why?”

Lorkin looked away. “He didn’t say.”

Dannyl stepped back. Lorkin’s voice was flat and expressionless. He should be relieved. Puzzled by his unexpected release. Angry that he’d been imprisoned in the first place.

“Come sit down.” Dannyl ushered Lorkin to the seats, but the young magician didn’t sit down. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Did they read your mind? Or attempt to?”

“No.”

“Lord Lorkin! I thought I heard your name.”

They both looked up to see Tayend standing in the doorway. The Elyne hurried forward, reaching out toward the young magician as if to hug him but, Dannyl was amused to see, letting his arms drop to his sides at the last moment. He gave Lorkin a critical look.

“You don’t look too bad, for someone who has been locked up in a prison,” he observed. “But they wouldn’t have dared harm you physically. How are you feeling?”

Lorkin shrugged, but his eyes betrayed the same wary evasiveness Dannyl had noted earlier. “Tired. Hungry. I could do with a bath.”

Tayend sniffed and smiled. “You’re right about that. I don’t imagine the palace prison contains hot tubs. Let’s get you to our perfectly civilized Guild House ones. I’ll have the slaves prepare you something nourishing and fetch you some clean robes.”

Lorkin nodded, but before he succumbed to the Elyne’s attempts to usher him out of the room he reached into his robes and turned to Dannyl. Wordlessly, he drew out a scroll. Dannyl noted King Amakira’s seal before looking up at the young man again. Lorkin’s eyes were hard and knowing.

Then he turned away and left.

Dannyl sat down and broke the seal. It was an official order from the king and simply declared that Lorkin was forbidden to leave the Guild House. No reason was given for his release from the palace prison. No mention was made at all of his incarceration. What did I expect? An apology?

Tayend returned to the room and sat down next to Dannyl.

“He’s not all right,” the Elyne murmured.

“No,” Dannyl agreed.

“Whatever they did to him — or forced him to do — he is not ready to talk about it. I will keep an eye on him and let you know if he tells me about it — if he doesn’t make me promise to keep it a secret, of course.”

“Of course.”

“So what does it say?” Tayend nodded at the scroll.

“Lorkin is forbidden to leave the Guild House.”

Tayend nodded. “He’s not completely free, then.” He reached out and patted Dannyl’s arm. “He’s out of that place. That, at least, is a good thing.” He stood up. “I have to report this. You had better tell Administrator Osen.”

Dannyl watched Tayend hurry away, and managed a sad smile. If Lorkin did prove reluctant to talk about what had been done to him in the prison, or had some guilty secret to admit to, Tayend was the one most likely to coax it out of him. He could be uncannily perceptive when it came to other people’s troubles. Except when it came to our troubles, Dannyl reminded himself.

I hate to think it, but I hope Lorkin isn’t here because they forced him to betray the Traitors. It could be very bad for them — and might be for us, if whatever Lorkin and Osen were communicating about involved us working with the them.

Osen. As Tayend had pointed out, the Administrator would want to know Lorkin had returned. Reaching into his robes, he drew out Osen’s blood ring, took a deep breath, then slipped it on his finger.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Sonea exclaimed under her breath as she looked up at the Stayhouse sign.

“What is it?” Regin asked.

She said nothing, because a stocky man had appeared in the doorway.

He bowed. “My Lord and Lady! Come in! Come in!” the man said. “I am Fondin. Welcome to Fergun’s Rest, the finest Stayhouse in Kyralia.”

She heard Regin chuckle, but he said nothing as she moved through the doorway. As always, the ground floor was a dining and drinking area. It was busy despite the late hour, the room echoing with many voices. The clothing of the customers suggested they were locals and had dressed up for an occasion. A few looked up at her and Regin, and their eyes went wide with surprise.

“Please sit a moment and rest,” Fondin invited them, gesturing toward a quieter corner. “Do you need one room or two?”

“You’re busy tonight,” Sonea observed.

“Yes. We’re hosting a celebration and there are many who have come from afar,” Fondin said. “But don’t worry about the noise. We’ll finish up at a decent hour and then it’ll be nice and quiet here.”

As if on cue, the room began to quieten. Sonea heard hissed whispers. Fondin turned back to them, then his eyes dropped to Sonea’s robes and widened. He’d obviously not noticed the colour in the dim light outside. Even in the subdued lamplight, she could see his face grow pale.

“What is the reason for the celebration?” she asked.

“W-w-w-wedding,” Fondin stuttered.

“Then pass on my congratulations to the bride and groom.” Sonea smiled. “Are they staying here tonight?”

“N-n-n…” Fondin took a deep breath and straightened. “No, they’ll be off to their new house tonight.”

But many of the wedding guests would be staying here, she guessed.

“A new home as well. Well, we won’t take up much more of your time. I’m sure we can manage in one room,” Sonea told him. “With separate beds and a privacy screen, of course. We’ll eat there so you can keep your full attention on your guests. Could you show us straight to the room?”

Fondin nodded, then, for good measure, bowed deeply before whirling around and leading them upstairs. He paused at several doors, wringing his hands, then with obvious reluctance led them to a room at the end of the corridor. As he opened the door Sonea was pleased to see it was a rather plain room, with a single one-person bed, but no signs of current occupants. She had been worried he’d throw guests out of one of their rooms, or that none of the rooms were empty. Stayhouses along major routes were paid by the Guild to keep one room free at all times, and everyone expected it would be their best room, but it must be tempting to put guests in there on busy nights, especially on lesser-used routes like this one.

“This will do,” she told him.