Trudi Canavan - The Rogue

“Emperor”? Dannyl frowned. If there is an emperor, then this was written before the Sachakan War.

He read on, carefully treating each page with the solution and impatiently watching the words appear. Soon he realised he was wrong. The woman only referred to the defeated emperor by his title because she did not have an alternative, and the Sachakans hadn’t yet adopted the term “king” for their ruler.

Which means this diary was written some time after the war but within twenty years of it.

The writer had included no dates, so he had no way to know how much time had passed between entries. She never used names, instead referring to people by physical appearance.

Useful Cures for Womanly Times

Once a month a cycle of events brings many ills. Leading up to it there is often much anxiety, bad temper and bloating, and when the time comes it may be a relief, though it is always draining. The challenge is containment. The careless will experience leaks – often not noticing until it is too late. How else do I find out what the pale ones are planning? They trust the slaves, thinking them grateful for freedom. It is not hard to make the slaves talk. The crazy emperor knows. That is why he claimed the betrayer’s slave for himself. Better to keep an eye on it always. Take the hero’s property and you replace the hero in the slaves’ eyes. The crazy emperor wanted the pale ones to take our children and have their own people raise them. Make our little ones hate us. But the kind one argued against the plan and the others supported him. I bet they regret making the mad one their leader.

As Dannyl waited for another page to respond to the treatment, he considered the last passage he’d read. The woman had referred to the “crazy emperor” many times. He didn’t think the man was an actual emperor, just a leader. If the “pale ones” were Kyralians then this was the magician who had led them, Lord Narvelan. Dannyl was intrigued by the suggestion that Narvelan had adopted a slave as his own. The slave of the “betrayer”, who was also a hero. He squinted at the slowly darkening text.

Proper Manners Toward Visitors

Respect is given first to the Ashaki, then to the magician, then to the free man. Men before women. Older before younger. Theft is a great offence, and today our pale visitors were robbed by one of their own. By their own crazy emperor. He took the weapon from our throats and ran. Many of the pale ones have given chase. It is a great opportunity. I am angry and sad. My people are too cowed, even to take the advantage they have. They say the crazy emperor may return with the knife, and punish us. They are cowards.

From the way the writing changed from neat letters to a scrawl, he guessed that a jump in time had occurred in the middle of the entry and the latter part was added hastily or in anger. The reference to a weapon was not new – the diary’s author had referred to it already as a reason the Sachakans feared to rise up against the Kyralians. But now Narvelan had stolen it. Why?

How to Respond to News of a Rival’s Death

Our freedom is inevitable and comes at the hands of a fool! A great blast of magic has scoured the land to the north-west. Such power could only have come from the storestone. No other artefact or magician is that powerful. It is clear the crazy emperor tried to use it when his people confronted him, but lost control of it. We are rid of both of them! Many of the pale ones died, so there are still far fewer here to control us. There is fear that they have another weapon. But if they do not bring it here, my people will rise out of their cowardice and take back their own land. The land burned by the storestone will recover. We will be strong again.

Dannyl felt a chill run down his spine. In her excitement, the diary writer had referred to the weapon by its real name: the storestone. So if she was right, Narvelan had taken the stone. He had attempted to use it, lost control and created the wasteland.

It all makes sense when put together like that. Except that there is no obvious reason why Narvelan would steal the storestone. Perhaps he didn’t need a good reason if he was truly as mad as the records paint him.

Suddenly the binding cracked and several pages fell out. Looking back at the first page, Dannyl saw that the writing was already fading again. He drew out several sheafs of paper and topped up the ink in the well. Then he called for a slave to bring sumi and some food.

I am copying out this book now , he decided. Even if it takes me all night.

Lilia hesitated, eyeing the large, stern man inside the doorway. Though he had bowed, it had been a token gesture. Something about him made her uneasy. The man scowled when she didn’t slip in after Naki. His eyes flickered to the street behind her, checking for something. Then he opened his mouth.

“Coming in or not?”

The voice was surprisingly high and girlish, and for a second Lilia fought the urge to giggle. Her nervousness disappeared and she moved past him into the dingy hallway.

It wasn’t much of a hallway. There was just enough room for the guard to stand and people to pass him and reach the staircase. Naki began to climb to the next floor. Odd, muffled sounds were coming from behind the walls and the air smelled of a mixture of the strange and familiar. Lilia felt anxiety begin to pluck at her again.

She had guessed what sort of place this was. She’d known from Naki’s mysterious behaviour – refusing to say where they were going – that it was unlikely they were headed for more conventional evening entertainment. While novices weren’t forbidden to enter such places, they weren’t supposed to frequent them.

They were called brazier houses. Or pleasure houses. As the two girls reached the landing at the top of the stairs, a woman in an expensive but rather tacky dress bowed and asked them what they desired.

“A brazier room,” Naki replied. “And some wine.”

The woman gestured that they should follow her and started down the corridor.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while, novice Naki,” a male voice said from behind Lilia.

Naki stopped. Lilia noted there was no eagerness in Naki’s face as she turned to look back. The smile her friend wore was forced.

“Kelin,” she said. “It has been too long. How’s business?”

Lilia turned to see a short, stocky man with squinty eyes standing half in, half out of a doorway. His lips parted and crooked teeth flashed. If it was a smile, there was no friendliness about it.

“ Very good,” he replied. “I’d invite you in,” his eyes flickered to Lilia, “but I see you have better company to distract you.”

“I do, indeed.” Naki stepped forward and hooked an arm in Lilia’s. “But thank you for considering it,” she called back over her shoulder, taking a step forward and guiding Lilia after the serving woman.

They were led upstairs and to a small room with a roomy two-seater chair and a tiny fireplace with a brazier sitting on the tiles before it. A narrow window allowed a mix of moonlight and lamplight in, which was barely challenged by the small shaded lamps hanging either side of the fireplace. The air smelled of fragrant smoke and something faintly sour.

“Tiny, but cosy and private,” Naki said, gesturing at the room.

“Who was that man?” Lilia asked as they settled on the chair.

Naki’s nose wrinkled. “A friend of the family. He did my father a favour once, and now acts like he’s a relation.” She shrugged. “He’s all right though, once you understand what he values.” She turned to Lilia. “That’s the secret to people: knowing what they value.”