The Ambassador’s Mission

“Sorry for snapping at you. It can’t be easy for you to trust me.”

He smiled ruefully. The trouble is, I want to trust her. I should be questioning every move she makes, especially after what she told me the other night. Well, I would, but when I get her talking something happens and she goes all silent on me again. She was watching him, her expression apologetic. Maybe I should try again.

“That’s fine. But it’s not the first time I’ve annoyed you tonight. What did I say, when we were discussing servants and the Traitors at the beginning of the night, that bothered you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened, then her mouth thinned into a line of reluctance. He thought she wasn’t going to answer, but she shook her head.

“I’ll have to explain eventually.” She grimaced and looked down at her knees. “Many years ago my people noticed that one of the Ichani that roam about the wasteland had a strange slave. A pale man, possibly a Kyralian.” Her gaze flickered up to meet his, then away. “Your father.”

Lorkin felt a chill run across his skin. Though he had heard the story before, his mother had always been reluctant to talk about this part of his father’s life.

“They watched for a long time and eventually realised that the slave was a Guild magician,” Tyvara continued. “This was unusual, as you may know already, as Sachakans don’t tolerate slaves knowing magic. If a slave develops powers naturally they will kill him, or her. Enslaving a foreign magician – especially a Guild magician – was extraordinary and dangerous. But this was no ordinary Ichani. He was cunning and ambitious.

“As my people watched, they guessed that your father did not know higher magic. Then, one day, the daughter of the leader of my people fell terribly ill and soon it was clear she was dying. Our leader had heard of the Guild’s skills in healing with magic. We’ve tried for many years to discover the secret for ourselves, without success. So our leader sent one of us out to meet your father and make an offer.” Tyvara’s face darkened. “She would teach him higher magic in exchange for Healing magic.”

She looked up at him. Lorkin stared back at her. His mother had never mentioned that his father had agreed to exchange anything for black magic, nor had anybody else in the Guild.

“And?” he prompted.

“He agreed.”

“He can’t – couldn’t – do that!” Lorkin blurted.

Tyvara frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s… it’s a decision only the Higher Magicians can make. And then probably only with the approval of the king. To give such valuable knowledge to another race… a people not of the Allied Lands… is too risky. And there would have to be something given in exchange.”

“Higher magic,” she reminded him.

“Which they would never have accepted in exchange. It is…” He caught himself. Revealing that black magic was forbidden would reveal the Guild’s greatest weakness. “It was not his decision to make.”

Tyvara’s mouth set in a disapproving line. “Yet he agreed to the offer,” she said. “He agreed to come to our home and teach us Healing – something he said that could not be taught in a moment, as higher magic can be. So he was taught higher magic and he used it to kill his master. Then he disappeared, returning to Imardin and breaking his promise. Our leader’s daughter died.”

Lorkin found he could not meet her accusing gaze. He looked at the ground and picked up a handful of dirt, letting it fall between his fingers.

“I can see why your people are angry with him,” he said lamely.

She drew in a deep breath and looked away. “Not all of them. One of my people travelled to Imardin later, when it was clear the brother of your father’s former master was preparing to invade Kyralia. She discovered that this Ichani had been sending spies into Imardin for some time, and that your father was killing them off in secret. It could be that your father returned home because he discovered the threat from his master’s brother.”

“Or he assumed you understood he had to persuade the Guild to allow him to teach you Healing before he could return.”

She looked at him. “Do you think that is true?”

Lorkin shook his head. “No. He could not have told them about you without revealing that he had…” – he had learned black magic – “… he had been enslaved here.”

“He broke his promise out of pride?” Her tone was disapproving, though not as much as he would have expected. Perhaps she understood why his father had been reluctant to tell his tale.

“I doubt that was the only reason,” he said. “He did reveal the truth when it was needed. Or most of the truth, as it turns out,” he added.

“Well,” she said, shrugging. “Whatever the reason, he didn’t keep his promise. Some of my people – the faction I mentioned the other night – want you punished for it.” She smiled crookedly as he looked at her in horror. “Which is why Riva was sent to kill you, against our leader’s orders. But the majority of us hold to the principle that we are better than our barbaric Sachakan cousins. We do not punish the child for the crimes of the parent.”