Trudi Canavan - The Rogue

Tyvara …

He turned to look at her, half covered by the blanket. The covering wasn’t necessary since the air within the shield was warmed with magic, but he had to agree that it gave an impression of protection that he’d appreciated as the storm winds whistled and wailed outside. His mind couldn’t shake the conviction that it was cold, and that it wasn’t sensible to leave his skin exposed.

His body, however, approved of Tyvara’s lack of clothing. He longed to reach out and touch her, but resisted. The sooner she woke, the sooner they would have to part. So he lay there and gazed at her, hoping the image would remain clear in his memory forever.

I will come back , he told himself. If Father had had such a reason as this, I’m sure he would have returned, too.

Since his conversation with the Traitor queen, he’d wondered if there had been anything between her and his father, but he’d decided it was unlikely. They had met so briefly and there must have been quite a difference in age between them. Perhaps there had been some kind of bond formed through the blood ring, but, if there had been, it sounded as though the death of the queen’s daughter had ended it.

He considered the blood ring. It was useless now that the maker was dead. Yet the queen hadn’t thrown it away. Perhaps it had symbolised the agreement she’d made with Akkarin. What had been her side of that agreement? What had she failed to do, but now hoped to achieve by sending Lorkin home?

Perhaps an alliance between our lands. That would have required her to convince her people that it was a good idea. Not an easy task to take on, but she was younger then and maybe she hadn’t realised how hard it would be.

Tyvara’s eyes fluttered open, and he felt his heart sink, but as she turned and smiled at him it lifted again. She rolled over and they kissed for a while. When he hoped this might lead to more, she pulled away and stood up, the blanket falling away. She turned to regard the wall of ice and sighed.

“We slept longer than we should have,” she said, starting to get dressed. “I ought to have headed home as soon as the storm passed. You never know how long it’ll be to the next one, this time of year.”

Lorkin felt a pang of worry for her, not quite eased by reminding himself that she was a powerful magician, and well capable of surviving storms. He got up and began pulling on his clothes. “Do you often travel at this time?”

She shook her head. “No, not if I can avoid it.”

He looked at her sternly. “Well, I’m glad to have a little longer with you, but if it means you might not get home safely then I’m afraid I have to insist you leave right now.”

She laughed, then her smile faded rapidly. Moving close, she kissed him firmly. “You take care as well. You’re not quite out of the mountains yet.”

“I will,” he told her. “Kyralia has snow and hilly parts too, you know.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“Which you’ve never been to, except on the way to Sachaka, at a time of year when there was no snow.”

“Darn. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

She shook her head and pulled away, moving to the sledges. “Do you need me to run through the directions on how to get back to Arvice?” she asked, packing away the sleeping mats and utensils from the previous night’s meal.

“Take the sledge down the valley to the hunter’s shack. Leave it there and walk to the road. Slaves will be waiting to take me to the local estate and arrange transport from there.”

“That’s right. If you don’t encounter them for some reason, it’s the estate with four big trees either side of the entrance road. You shouldn’t encounter any Ashaki. They don’t tend to travel at this time of year. If you do, tell them who you are and request to be taken back to the Guild House. They’ll be politically obliged to help you.”

While she sounded confident, there was a worried look in her eyes. What’s the worst that could happen? he asked himself. The Ashaki might toss political obligation aside, reason that I’m a Traitor now and not protected by any diplomatic rules, and try to kill me. But they probably wouldn’t without first trying to read my mind. He rubbed the base of his thumb, where the mind-read-blocking stone lay beneath the muscle. It still itched a little, though he’d healed the cut. Tyvara had recommended the pos ition for it, since a newly inserted stone did tend to itch, and a slave rubbing at sore hands wasn’t unusual.

He’d not had much time to learn how to feed fake thoughts to a mind-reader. Even with Tyvara’s magic, I doubt I could fend off an Ashaki attack for long. If the Ashaki then senses that his mind-reading is failing, he might try to torture information out of me. I don’t know if I could withstand that at all, or for long. Better to get to the Guild House and into Ambassador Dannyl’s protection unseen.

“I’ll do what I can to stay out of sight,” he assured her. “And this time I won’t have half the Traitor spies trying to find us and turn us over.”

She nodded. “Be careful who you trust, even so. Kalia’s faction may be weakened, but there are still Traitors who hate you for what your father did. They won’t do anything to endanger Sanctuary, but they may make your life uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. “I’ve slept in a hole in the ground. I can cope with a little discomfort.” Then he frowned. “I’ve been thinking … is it wise that Kalia is the only one who knows how to Heal with magic?”

Tyvara’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sure the queen would rather Kalia wasn’t the only one, but we don’t have any choice about that.”

“Well … you could have another choice … if I teach you Healing before you go.”

Her eyes widened a little, then she smiled and shook her head. “No, Lorkin. We don’t have time for that.”

“We could stay another night.”

Her smile widened. “As much as that appeals, I still must go now. There are other reasons I need to get back quickly. The fact that Kalia has that one little advantage over us is the only thing keeping her faction happy.”

“Nobody has to know.”

She chuckled. “Zarala said you might offer this.”

“Really?” He felt strangely affronted. Was he that predictable?

“Yes. She told me to refuse.” Picking up the tow ropes of the sledges, Tyvara handed one to him. “Let’s go.”

They moved to the entrance of the cave and stepped out into a landscape coated with fresh, undisturbed snow. Bright morning light made everything dazzlingly white. The walls of the valley were steep and close, but widened as they reached eastwards. He could make out the line of the path they’d taken to descend into the valley, and another narrow one continuing down to the valley floor and a frozen river.

They turned to each other. They stared at each other. Neither spoke.

Then a distant rumble drew both to look at the sky. They were too deep in the valley to see the coming weather. Tyvara cursed under her breath.

“I’ll go first, so that I don’t toss snow down onto you,” she said. “Try to get to the hunter’s shack before the next storm.”

He nodded. She strode away, pushing snow off the path with magic. He watched her go, feeling that every step she took stretched some invisible bond between them. She did not look back, and he could not decide if he was disappointed or relieved.

When she finally reached the top of the wall, she did stop. Looking down, she lifted an arm and waved. It was less a gesture of farewell as one of impatience. His imagination conjured her voice and expression. “ What are you waiting for? Get going! ” He chuckled and set off into the valley, like her shoving snow off the path with magic as he went. When he reached the bottom he looked up.