Trudi Canavan - The Rogue

Taking a deep breath, she began to explain.

Lorkin wasn’t sure why he hadn’t simply walked out of the Care Room and gone to bed, or at least ignored Kalia’s order to start early. Kalia had kept him back so late he’d had less than four hours’ sleep on average over the last two nights.

She was, no doubt, punishing him for managing to Heal with magic without generating disapproval among the Traitors, instead generating some for her. It was very likely she was also trying to stop him visiting and Healing the young man sick with chill fever.

But she couldn’t keep him working all night, and eventually she’d had to let him go. He hadn’t been surprised when he was waylaid again on the way to the men’s room, and taken to see the sick young man. Already struggling, due to lack of sleep, to recover properly from the first Healing session, he was left almost staggering with exhaustion after a second. He had no magic left to Heal away the tiredness.

Tomorrow I will ignore Kalia’s early start. In fact, I may not have much choice. Once I’m asleep I suspect it’ll take an advancing army to wake me.

He turned a corner and forced his legs to carry him onwards. It wasn’t far to the men’s room now. Just another hundred paces – or two …

Something settled against his cheek. He reached up to brush it away and realised, simultaneously, that he couldn’t see any more, that there was a dry vegetable smell in the air, and that something was wrapping itself firmly around his shoulders.

A sack? Yes. It’s a sack. He tried to push it back off his head but something smashed against his back and knocked him to the ground. He instinctively reached for magic. Ah, but I have none. Strong hands took hold of his arms and forced them behind his back, and he knew there was nothing he could do.

How did they know? Or was this deliberate? Kalia wasn’t just keeping me back late to punish me, was she?

To his surprise, the sacking covering his face lifted, though not far enough that he could see anything beyond the floor and two pairs of legs. He took in a deep breath of clean air.

But that was a mistake. Something was pressed over his mouth and nose, and a familiar smell filled his nostrils. Though he caught and held his breath, enough of the drug had entered his body to set his senses reeling. He gasped and began to pass out.

The last thing he heard was a low, hoarse voice, laced with disgust and satisfaction.

“Too easy,” it said. “Pick him up. Follow me.”

As the carriage left the Guild, Sonea looked at Rothen and noted a thoughtful look on his face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Only a few months ago, you would have had to gain permission to visit Dorrien and his family,” the old magician said. “Now nobody questions it. How quickly things can change.”

Sonea smiled grimly. “Yes. But they could change back just as quickly. It would take only one unfortunate incident and I’d be keeping Lilia company.”

Rothen looked pained. “She did deliberately try to learn black magic.”

“True. I wonder if she would have, if she hadn’t been addled with roet.”

“How do you mean?”

“They say it makes a person stop caring. Which is appealing if you have worries you would like to forget for a while, or need a little false courage, but roet also removes any concern for the consequences of your actions – and it seems to do so much more effectively than drink.”

“Do you think others might make the same mistake as she?”

“Only if they happened to stumble on some books containing instructions on learning black magic while under the full effect of roet. That depends on there being any other books like that out there.” Sonea sighed. “Lord Leiden was breaking a law by not surrendering his to the Guild.”

“Should we start searching private libraries?”

“I doubt we’d find anything. Unless the owner doesn’t know what he or she has stored in theirs, they’d remove and hide anything suspicious as soon as they heard a search was possible.”

Rothen nodded in agreement. “It would take years to go through the bigger libraries thoroughly enough,” he added. “Are we any closer to finding Leiden’s killer?”

She shook her head. “Obviously someone else has learned black magic. Either that or it was Kallen, and the people who claim they saw him that night were lying. I’m surprised Osen hasn’t asked us to read each other’s minds, yet.” The carriage came to a halt. She unlatched the door and climbed out, then turned and waited as Rothen followed.

“I heard that there were enough witnesses to confirm you were both elsewhere when the murder occurred that a mind read isn’t needed.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Nice of him to tell me that. Having my mind read, or reading Kallen’s, isn’t something I look forward to.”

“I’m sure he would tell you, if you asked. Shall we go inside?”

She turned to face the door of the building. The Guild was renting it as a way to deal with the shortage of rooms in the grounds for magicians. When Dorrien came to the Guild on his own he stayed with his father, but there wasn’t enough space in Rothen’s room for an extra two adults and two older girls.

From the outside it looked like a single, though large, family home. Sonea walked up to the door and knocked. A man in a Guild servant uniform opened it. He greeted them, stepped aside and bowed as they passed through into the entry hall.

It was a lavishly decorated room, with staircases winding up to a second floor. Once, it would have been the home of a rich family from one of the Houses, but now it had been divided into four parts, which provided accommodation for four magicians and their families. At first, this idea of dividing up a large house had been rejected, because it was assumed that magicians would be too proud to share a building with others. But the concept proved popular among young magi ci ans with fam ilies from the lower classes, who saw immediately that it provided much more space for their children than an apartment of rooms in the Magicians’ Quarters.

The servant led them upstairs to a large door that filled what would have once been an opening to a corridor. He knocked, and when Dorrien answered the door the man bowed and introduced them formally.

“Thank you, Ropan,” Dorrien said as he ushered Sonea and Rothen inside a large guest room. Tylia and Yilara were sitting in two of the chairs, and Sonea noted they were wearing dresses more in the city style. “Welcome to our new home. It’s four times the size of our house. Alina is worried we’ll get so used to it, it’ll feel like a tight fit when we move back. Here she is.”

His wife had appeared in a side doorway, her hands clasped together and an anxious expression on her face. Her eyes snapped to Sonea, dropped to the black robes; then her expression hardened and she looked away. She smiled nervously as Dorrien urged her to join them. The two girls reluctantly stood and bowed, hovering a pace or two away as the adults exchanged pleasantries.

“How are you finding it here?” Sonea asked Alina.

Alina glanced at Dorrien. “It will take a little getting used to,” the woman said quietly. “I prefer to cook meals myself, but Dorrien says to leave it to the servants.”

“Where do they do the cooking?”

“In the basement,” Alina replied. “They cook for all the families staying here. It looks like there are more servants there tonight. I hope that’s not our fault.”

Dorrien smiled. “Lord Beagir is entertaining guests, too,” he said. He looked at Rothen and Sonea. “Come into the dining room.”