The Ambassador’s Mission

She’s dying, Lorkin realised. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t just let her die. He sent out magic and surrounded Tyvara, pushing her away, then leapt onto the bed and reached out to the dying woman.

And felt himself and his magic effortlessly countered by another force. It shattered the containment and rolled him off the end of the bed to land on the hard floor. He lay still, stunned. She has magic. Tyvara has magic. She isn’t what she is supposed to be. And… ouch!

“I’m sorry, Lord Lorkin.”

He looked up to see Tyvara standing over him. He glanced at the other slave, but she lay still with her back to him. He looked back at Tyvara. How strong is she? He eyed her doubtfully. Is she a Sachakan black magician? But they don’t teach women magic. Well, I suppose they might if they need a spy…

“That woman was about to kill you,” she told him.

He stared at her. “That wasn’t the impression I got.”

She smiled, but there was no humour in it. “Yes, she was. She was sent here to do it. You’re lucky I arrived in time to stop her.”

She’s mad, he thought. But she was also a magician of undetermined power. It would be safer to reason with her than try to call for help. And reasoning with her might be more convincing if he wasn’t half sitting, half lying on the floor with no clothes on.

Slowly he got to his feet. She made no move to stop him. He saw that the woman she had stabbed was staring up at the ceiling. Or beyond it. And not seeing anything at all – or ever again. He shuddered.

Backing up to the set of robes that the slaves had cleaned and left ready for him, hanging on the wall, he took the trousers. Blood had smeared across his chest. He wiped it off onto a cloth the slaves left each night, along with water and a bowl, so he could wash in the morning.

“I gather from your sceptical manner that you don’t know of Lover’s Death,” Tyvara said. “It’s a form of higher magic. When a man or woman reaches the peak of pleasure during lovemaking their natural protection against invasive magic falters, and they are vulnerable to being stripped of all power – and their life. Sachakan men know of Lover’s Death and are wary of it, but they don’t know how to do it. They used to, apparently, but lost the knowledge when they stopped teaching women magic.”

“You’re a woman,” Lorkin pointed out as he pulled his trousers on. “So how is it you know magic?”

She smiled. “Men stopped teaching women magic. Women, however, did not.”

“You know how to do this Lover’s Death thing, too?” His notebook and his mother’s blood ring lay on the table. He picked up the ring as he reached out to the overrobe, hoping she only saw the latter movement, and held it in his hand as he put on the overrobe. Then he picked up his notebook, slipped it into the internal pocket and dropped the ring in at the same time.

“Yes. Although it’s not my preferred method of assassination.” She looked at the stranger. Following her gaze, Lorkin considered the corpse. If Tyvara knows one method of higher magic there’s a good chance she knows others. And that she is much, much stronger than me.

“What are you, really? You’re obviously not a real slave.”

“I am a spy. I was sent here to protect you.”

“By who?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“But whoever it is, he or she wants me alive?”

“Yes.”

He looked at the dead woman. “You… you, er, killed her to save me.”

“Yes. If I hadn’t found her here with you, you would have been the corpse, not her.” She sighed. “I apologise. I made a mistake. I thought you were safe. After all, you told me you weren’t intending to bed any slaves. I should not have believed you.”

He felt his face heat. “I didn’t intend to.”

“You weren’t exactly trying to stop her.”

“It was dark. I thought she was…” He caught himself. Tyvara wasn’t the person he’d thought she was. She was a black magician, a spy, and admitted to having preferred methods of assassination. It might not be a good idea to let her think he found her attractive. And I’m not sure I do find the person she really is attractive, after all.

Her eyes were darker than ever. They narrowed. “You thought she was what?”

He looked away, then forced himself to meet her gaze. “Someone else. I hadn’t woken up properly. I thought I was dreaming.”

“You must have interesting and pleasant dreams,” she observed. “Now, grab your things.”

“Things?”

“Whatever you don’t want to leave behind.”

“I’m leaving?”

“Yes.” She looked at the dead woman again. “When the people who sent her realise she failed to kill you they’ll send someone else to finish the job. And they’ll send someone to kill me at the same time. It’s not safe here for either of us, and I need you alive.”

“And D-… Ambassador Dannyl?”

She smiled. “He’s not a target.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because he’s not the son of the man who crossed them.”

He froze in surprise. Was Mother right? She was so sure someone would hold a grudge against me because of what she and father had done.

She took a step toward the door. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”