The Ambassador's Mission (The Traitor Spy Trilogy #1)(11)

Lorkin, and his mother, had agreed. It was Beriya who had refused.

She also refused to see him. When he finally managed to ambush her one day, she had told him she had never loved him. That she had encouraged him because she had heard that magicians could make love without the danger of siring a child. That she was sorry for lying to him.

His mother had told him that the awful way he felt was the closest that most magicians came to knowing what it felt like for a non-magician to be sick. The best cure was time and the kindness of family and friends. And then she’d used some words to describe Beriya’s behaviour that he could not have repeated in the company of most people he knew.

Fortunately, Beriya’s family had taken her away to Elyne, so by the time the hurt subsided enough for him to feel anger she was well out of sight. He’d vowed not to fall in love again, but when a girl in his Alchemy class had shown an interest, his resolve had weakened. He liked her practical nature. She was everything Beriya hadn’t been. A strange hypocrisy existed in Kyralian culture: nobody expected women magicians to remain celibate. But by the time he’d realised that he didn’t love her, she was well and truly infatuated with him. He’d done all he could to end that entanglement as gently as possible, but he knew she now resented him deeply.

Love, he’d decided, was one messy business.

Beriya moved to a chair and sank into it gracefully. “So who is bored?” she asked.

As the others denied it, Lorkin considered her and the lessons he’d learned. In the last year he’d met a few women who were both good company and good lovers, and wanted no more than that. He’d found he preferred this sort of encounter. The seductions that Dekker undertook, which only ended in hurt and scandal – or worse – did not appeal. And the affectionless marriage that Reater had been forced into by his parents sounded like his worst nightmare.

Father’s family hasn’t attempted to find me a bride in a while now. Maybe they’re starting to realise how much pleasure Mother gets from spoiling all their plans for me. Though I’m sure she wouldn’t block anything if I wanted it.

He dragged his thoughts back to the present as the conversation turned to the exploits of mutual friends of Beriya and Dekker. Lorkin listened and let the afternoon slip by. Eventually the two Healers left to visit the new racecourse, and Beriya left for a dress fitting. Dekker, Sherran and Jalie set off on foot to their family homes, which were in the same main street of the Inner Circle, leaving Lorkin to return to the Guild alone.

Walking through the streets of the Inner Circle, Lorkin looked at the grand buildings thoughtfully. This place had been his home all his life. He had never lived outside of it. Never been to a foreign country. Never even left the city. Ahead he could see the Guild Gates.

Are they the bars of a prison to me, or a wall to keep out danger? Beyond was the front of the University, where his parents had once fought Sachakan black magicians in a last desperate battle. Those magicians were only Ichani, the Sachakan version of outcast criminals. How would that battle have ended if they’d been Ashaki, black-magic-wielding noble warriors? We were lucky to have won that battle. Everyone knows that. Black Magician Kallen and my mother may not be able to save us if the Sachakans ever decide to invade us properly.

A familiar figure was approaching the gates from within. As the man passed through them, Lorkin smiled. He knew Lord Dannyl through his mother and Lord Rothen. It had been a while since he’d seen the historian. As always, Dannyl wore a slightly distracted frown, and Lorkin knew the older magician could easily walk past without seeing him.

—Lord Dannyl, Lorkin called, keeping his mental voice quiet. Mental communication was frowned upon, since it could be heard by all magicians – whether friends or enemies. But calling another magician’s name was considered safe, as doing so gave away little information to anyone listening.

The tall magician looked up, saw Lorkin, and his frown disappeared. They walked toward each other, meeting at the entrance of the street Dannyl lived on.

“Lord Lorkin. How are things?”

Lorkin shrugged. “Well enough. How’s your research going?”

Dannyl frowned down at the bundle he was carrying. “The Great Library sent some records that I hoped would provide more details of the state of Imardin after Tagin’s death.”

Lorkin could not remember who Tagin was, but he nodded anyway. Dannyl had been caught up in his history of magic for so long he often forgot that other people did not know the details as well as he. It must be a relief to know what you want to dedicate your life to, Lorkin thought. None of this wondering what to do with yourself.

“How … how did you come up with the idea to write a history of magic?” Lorkin asked.

Dannyl looked at Lorkin and shrugged. “The task found me,” he said. “I sometimes wish it hadn’t, but then I find some new piece of information and,” he smiled wryly, “I remember how important it is that the past isn’t lost. History has lessons to teach us, and perhaps one day I’ll stumble on some secret that will benefit us.”

“Like black magic?” Lorkin suggested.

Dannyl grimaced. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve as much risk and sacrifice.”

Lorkin felt his heart skip. “Another sort of defensive magic? That would be a great thing to find.” It would not only free the Guild from having to use black magic, but could either provide a defence against the Sachakans, or persuade the Sachakans to give up black magic and slavery and join the Allied Lands. If I found such a thing … but this is Dannyl’s idea, not mine …