Authors: Trudi Canavan
“Perfect! Now all we have to do is figure out how to get Lorkin into Achati’s carriage without any of those pesky watchers
noticing.”
Finishing her cup of raka, Lilia sighed with relief. In the last day or so she had begun to feel a bit worn around the edges
– like the old clothes Jonna had given her to wear when she visited Anyi, Cery and Gol. Late nights spent underground and
early morning lessons with Kallen were starting to take a toll.
She suppressed a groan at the thought of facing Kallen this morning. Anyi had told her about the cellar she, Cery and Gol
had found under the Guild, and the conversation they’d overheard. From the descriptions, she suspected the two magicians were
Lady Vinara and the Healer in charge of growing cure ingredients.
The news that they wanted to grow roet had shocked her at first, but it made sense. She didn’t agree with Cery’s theory that
the Guild wanted to grow roet in order to put Skellin out of business – or at least prevent him being the sole supplier of
the drug to magicians. It was far more likely that the Guild wanted it to help them find a cure for roet addiction, as well
as to explore the plant’s potential as a cure for other maladies. After all, cures for the ill effects of plants were often
found in the very plant that caused them.
But the news that the Guild was seeking roet seeds roused other suspicions, and for that reason she was not looking forward
to meeting Kallen. Part of her wanted to confront him with what she’d learned.
Is this why he won’t help Cery set a trap for Skellin? Are he, and the other magicians addicted to roet, afraid of removing
Skellin in case it cuts off the roet supply?
Cery had told her to keep what she knew to herself, unless she had good reason to reveal it. She would have to pretend not
to know anything while around Kallen, and somehow act as if she didn’t suspect him of having selfish motives for failing to
help her friends.
“You’re lost in thought today,” Jonna noted. She moved to the table and leaned down to pick up the empty dishes from the morning
meal. As she did, Lilia caught a strange but pleasant fragrance.
“Are you wearing perfume, Jonna?” she asked.
Jonna hesitated and looked a little guilty. “Yes.”
“What’s wrong?” Lilia frowned. “You don’t usually wear perfume. Are servants not supposed to?”
“Oh, nobody would be that fussy,” Jonna waved a hand, “but … Sonea doesn’t like this one. It was hers, but after she found
out what it was made from she told me to throw it out. I like it and … well you can’t blame the plant for what it is. I don’t
wear it when I’ll be around her, of course.”
“Which is why I haven’t noticed it before.” Lilia nodded. “It is lovely. What’s it made from?”
Once again, Jonna looked sheepish. “Roet flowers.”
Surprised, Lilia sniffed the air and tried to find some link between the odour and the smell of roet smoke. “It’s hard to
believe the scent comes from the same plant.” Then something else occurred to her. “Where do the perfume makers get roet flowers
from?”
Jonna shrugged. “I suppose from the people who grow it for the drug.”
Thinking back to Healing lessons on the sources of the Guild’s cures, Lilia considered what she knew about plants. Flowers
usually contained a plant’s seeds. The Guild wanted roet seeds. From what Anyi had said, the plants the Guild had grown were
not roet. They’d been tricked. Cery didn’t think any roet grower would dare sell seeds to the Guild – though they weren’t
averse to cheating the Guild for what would have been a huge profit by substituting some other plant seed. If Skellin found
out they had sold anyone roet seed, they wouldn’t live long.
Cery didn’t think roet was grown in Kyralia at all. He suspected it was cultivated elsewhere, harvested and dried before it
was shipped to Imardin. Was the same true of the perfume? Most perfume makers were based in Elyne. Did
they need fresh plants, or would dried ones do for making perfume?
Lilia stood up. “I had better go. Don’t want to be late and make Kallen nervous.”
Jonna smiled. “See you tonight.”
As she walked to the Arena, Lilia considered everything she knew and how little she could reveal in order to get answers to
her questions. In brief moments of rest during Kallen’s lesson she weighed the risks and benefits.
The sooner the Guild gets roet seeds, the sooner Kallen will help Cery. I just need to work out how to tell Kallen that I
know the Guild is trying to grow it without revealing how I know
…
She did not head to the University as soon as Kallen said they were done. He already had that distant, distracted manner where
he didn’t meet her eyes but gazed into the distance when she approached him. As he saw she wasn’t leaving, he frowned and
then his lips thinned.
“You can go now,” he told her again.
“I know, but I thought you’d like to know something: word on the street is that the Guild tried to buy roet seeds. Is it true?”
His gaze snapped to hers. His pupils widened.
That got your attention
, she thought.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear from your friends,” he told her.
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this why you won’t help Cery? Afraid the supply will run out
if the supplier is captured?”
Kallen’s eyes flashed with anger and his jaw tightened. “You have no idea how lucky you are,” he told her.
She blinked in surprise then felt a flash of anger. “Lucky?
Me?
My closest friend tricked me into learning black magic
to set me up for murdering her father, then tried to kill me. The only people who care about me are far away, or likely to
die any day now.”
His eyes widened, then his expression softened. “I apologise. I only meant …” He looked away, grimacing as if in pain. “You
are fortunate to avoid being trapped by roet. There are many, many magicians who wish they had your resistance.”
Like yourself
, she thought. But she found she couldn’t sustain her disgust at him. His reputation as a man whose integrity was infallible
was essential to his role as a black magician. To lose his will to a mere pleasure drug must be humiliating, and would have
shaken his confidence. The fact that he was a black magician must be making the other magicians who knew of his affliction
nervous. Though, it was as frightening to contemplate what could happen if high numbers of ordinary magicians were held hostage
by Skellin.
“How many?” she asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice.
He frowned. “I can’t tell you that. But … we are doing something about helping them.”
“By trying to grow it?”
“To take control of the supply at least. To find a cure or breed a less damaging drug if we can.” Kallen sighed. “You are
partly right. We may reduce our chances to acquire seeds if Skellin is killed. We can’t risk attempting to catch him. Yet.”
He met her gaze levelly and a fierce determination entered his gaze. “I promise once we have what we need we will find and
remove Skellin. That may include accepting your friend’s offer, if he is still willing to take the risk.”
Lilia nodded. She considered what he had told her. It made
sense, and she could see no hint that he was lying. There was no advantage in holding back from telling him her idea.
“Did you know there’s a new perfume being sold in the city that is made from roet flowers?”
His eyebrows rose and the spark of interest she had expected flared in his eyes. “No.”
“They have to get the flowers from somewhere.” She smiled. “Maybe the Guild should investigate. Anyway, I should be getting
to the next class.”
“Yes. Don’t be late …” he said distractedly.
She left him standing there. When she looked back she saw that, as always, his gaze had fixed on the distance again, but this
time he wore an expression of startled realisation.
It was almost unbearably stuffy and hot in the cart, and Lorkin had lost count of the times he’d had to grab his nose to stop
sneezing. Like the other slaves in the vehicle, he was covered in a grey powder meant to kill off body lice. For the same
reason, his hair had been shaved off. His ankles were chained together and to a metal loop in the centre of the cart’s floor.
His back itched and burned where he’d been whipped, and he had to resist the constant urge to Heal the welts. There had been
no reason for the punishment other than the driver establishing his superiority, after Ashaki Achati’s slave master had warned
that “this one is trouble”. He resisted gazing in horror at his fellow passengers and tried to hide the anger he felt at their
fate. They were the rejects of the city’s slaves, too old, damaged, ugly or disobedient to be of use to their former owners.
As far as they knew, they were being shipped off to work in a mine in the south of the Steelbelt mountains.
Bartering had been quick and few questions had been asked, to hasten the sale. Apparently some Sachakans believed that a slave
who had been born into a household ought to be cared for by that household if he or she had worked hard for their master,
or was crippled in their service. Sometimes they followed the mine cart around, calling shame upon owners who sold slaves
to it. None of these protestors had pursued the cart today. It had trundled to the edge of the city without attracting any
attention.
Now it was rolling slowly out into the countryside. Lorkin closed his eyes and thought back to his escape from the Guild House.
Tayend had come up with the solution to getting Lorkin out without the watchers noticing. They knew it was likely that the
watchers had counted how many slaves Achati had brought with him, so he had gone out to the carriage and told one that he
was being loaned to the Guild House to help keep an eye on Lorkin, but in truth to spy on the magicians.
Once the slave had been accepted with thanks and sent off to join the rest, Lorkin had donned Achati’s clothing, padding his
torso by stuffing his clothes with clean rags. Achati had put on a slave’s wrap. It would have been amusing to watch Tayend
instructing the dignified Ashaki how to walk with a slave’s hunch, if they hadn’t all been so worried that their plan would
fail.
As always, the courtyard of the Guild House had been lit by one lamp and they had both kept their faces turned from it. At
Tayend’s suggestion they had kept their actions simple: Lorkin strode out of the House and into the carriage, Achati had hurried
after and climbed onto the back of the carriage. They’d left the Guild House without any interference. All the way to Achati’s
home, Lorkin had sat rigid in the carriage, waiting for a call for them to halt, but none came. Once the carriage passed through
the gate of Achati’s mansion, the Ashaki climbed inside the carriage and they’d quickly exchanged clothing.
Lorkin’s rescuer had told him to stay put, then left to have a quiet conversation with a man Lorkin learned later was the
household’s slave master. Achati had returned to explain his plan. Once again Lorkin would be disguised as a slave, only this
time he must be prepared to endure much harsher treatment – and hope that there were Traitors among Achati’s all-male slaves.
I also have to hope that they saw and recognised me, found out I’d been put on the cart, were able to pass on messages to
other Traitors, and that the Traitors are actually able to catch up with the cart, stop it and free me without revealing their,
and my, identities
.
Thinking about it like that, it sounded a crazy scheme with far too many ways it could all go wrong.
What’s the worst that could happen? I might have to go all the way to the mine. The Steelbelt Ranges run along the border
between Sachaka and Kyralia. How hard would it be to free myself with magic, and travel the rest of the way to Kyralia?
How hard depended on whether Sachakan magicians ran the mine. Or if Ichani lurked in the mountains.
I should leave the cart before I get there, when there are no Sachakan magicians around, but we are close to the mountains.
If only I knew what Sachaka was like down in the southern corner. Does the wasteland extend as far as the sea? Do the Ichani
roam that far?
The cart began to slow. Opening his eyes, Lorkin glanced around to see both fear and hope in the faces of the other slaves.
He heard the sound of a stomach growling. Perhaps they were going to be given food and water.
The cart stopped and he heard voices outside.
“The well’s likely to collapse. I don’t want to risk one of mine. They’re healthy and useful,” a haughty voice said.
The driver replied in a low, wheedling voice. Lorkin could not make out the words.
“Name the price,” the haughty one commanded.
A pause, then the cart shifted and two sets of footsteps moved around to the rear. The lock rattled, then the doors opened.
Bright light flooded in, blinding Lorkin.
“That one will do.”
“He’s trouble.”
“Then you’ll be glad to be rid of him. If he survives and is troublesome, I’ll sell him back to you. Here.”
The clink of coins followed. Lorkin’s eyes had begun to adjust to the light. He could see an Ashaki standing next to the driver,
who was leaning in to unlock the chains of one of the slaves.
Lorkin’s heart stopped as he realised those chains were his own.
For a wild moment he considered blasting his way out of the cart with magic, but stopped himself with an effort.
Wherever you end up, there will be Traitors
, he told himself.
They will find you. They will free you
.
Whatever work this Ashaki planned for him sounded dangerous, but at least Lorkin could use magic to protect himself.
At least none of these other poor slaves will have to risk their lives doing it
.
“Come on,” the driver said, grabbing Lorkin’s leg and pulling. Lorkin hauled himself to his feet, stepping over the legs of
other slaves between him and the open doors. He had to jump to the ground, and the restraining chains prevented him keeping
his balance. He fell face first on the ground.