The Ambassador’s Mission

“You two are lucky Administrator Osen has chosen to be lenient on this. I wouldn’t test his willingness to be so again.”

They both nodded quickly. She gestured to indicate they could go, and they hurried away.

“Lorkin’s too smart to be caught up in roet-taking,” Regin murmured. “And the same good sense will keep him out of trouble in Sachaka.” He sighed. “I only wish my own daughters had half his maturity.”

She glanced at him, surprised and amused. Lorkin wasn’t any more mature than other young magician his age. But judging by the small amount of gossip she had heard about Regin’s daughters, they were very childish young women. “Still causing you trouble?”

He grimaced. “They take after their mother, though there’s enough cruelty in their rivalry to remind me of myself at their age.” He shook his head. “It’s bad enough looking back and regretting your youthful arrogance without having to then regret your offspring’s as well.”

Sonea chuckled, then started down the corridor. “I hope I never have to experience that for myself. But considering the sort of things I did in my youth, I’d say Lorkin has a long way to go before he makes as great a disgrace of himself as I did.”

CHAPTER 8 SIGNS

After two days in the carriage on increasingly bumpy roads, Lorkin felt as if his bones had been shaken into new and impractical arrangements. He kept having to Heal the aches of his body and soothe away headaches, but most of all he was bored. Hours of discomfort had left him too tired and grumpy for conversation, and he’d discovered that the jostling of the carriage on the roads made him ill if he tried to read.

Clearly, the excitement of travel wasn’t in the actual travelling part. It was more likely in the arriving part. Though he suspected by the time they got to Arvice he’d feel more relief than excitement.

Lord Dannyl – or Ambassador Dannyl as he must remember to call him now – endured the ride with a strange kind of happy resignation, which gave Lorkin some hope that it was all worthwhile. Or else this was nothing compared to the discomfort of sea travel, or the chafing of saddles, both which Dannyl had survived during his travels over twenty years before.

Lorkin knew that, over twenty years ago, Dannyl had been ordered by the former Administrator to retrace Akkarin’s journey in search of ancient magical knowledge. The stories Dannyl told were fascinating, and made Lorkin want to visit the Tomb of White Tears and the ruins of Armje himself.

But I am going where neither my father nor Dannyl have been before: the capital of Sachaka.

It would be a completely different Sachaka to the one his father had stumbled into. There would be no Ichani waiting to enslave him. If anything, from what Perler had described, the powerful men and women of the capital, especially the Ashaki patriarchs, would deign to notice an Ambassador’s assistant only reluctantly.

Still, he was reassured by the slight weight of the ring buried deep in the pocket of his robe. He’d found it in his chest that morning, in a small box buried deep among his belongings. There had been no note or explanation, but he recognised the plain gold band and the smooth red gemstone set within it. Had his mother slipped her blood gem ring into his chest secretly because she did not have permission to give it to him, or because she didn’t want to risk that he would refuse to take it?

He and Dannyl had begun each day’s journey by listing off the members of the most powerful Sachakan families several times, recalling key characteristics and alliances, correcting and helping each other memorise them. They had gone over what they knew of Sachakan society, and speculated where there were gaps in their knowledge. Lorkin noticed signs of nervousness and uncertainty in his companion. He felt almost an equal to the older magician, but he was sure that would change once they arrived and had to assume their roles.

The swaying of the carriage changed and Lorkin looked up. Only darkness lay beyond the windows, but the dull rapping of hoof on road had slowed. Dannyl sat up straighter and smiled.

“Either there’s an obstruction on the road or we’re about to be released from our cage for the night,” he murmured.

As the carriage came to a stop, it swayed gently on its springs, then stilled. Lorkin could see a building lit by the glow of lamplight outside the left window. The driver made an incomprehensible noise, which Dannyl somehow interpreted as a signal to get out. The magician opened the door and climbed outside.

Following, Lorkin breathed in fresh night air and felt his head start to clear. He looked around. They had arrived in a tiny village, just a few buildings on either side of the road. It probably existed only to service travellers. The largest, which they had pulled up beside, was a Stayhouse. A stocky man stood within the entrance, beckoning and bowing.