"My dear cousin," Achati had said when formal introductions were over. "It is good to see you again."

It had surprised Dannyl that Achati hadn't told them of his relationship to their host. Since his Sachakan friend had taken on the responsibility of organising the journey it had seemed rude to press for too many details.

Ashaki Chakori radiated a kind of strength mixed with contentment. He was of an old and powerful Sachakan family, which allowed him to live away from the city and do what he most enjoyed growing and producing raka without risking losing any standing among the Ashaki.

"Our fathers were brothers," Achati explained as he noted Dannyl's curiosity. "The younger inherited a city mansion, the older this estate." He turned to Chakori. "How are your son and wife?"

"Kavori is in Elyne, exploring trade options. Inaki is well."

Achati's eyebrows rose. "In Elyne? How is that going?"

"Not as well as we'd hoped." He looked at Tayend thoughtfully. "There is a perception that raka is a commoner's drink. Is this so, Ambassador?"

Tayend nodded. "It is growing in popularity, however, due to magicians returning from their time of learning in the Guild with a new taste for it."

Chakori's attention shifted to Dannyl. "So it is not a commoner's drink in Kyralia."

"It was," Dannyl said apologetically. "But the Guild has, for the last twenty years, invited people from all classes to seek entry. Those who came from the common classes introduced raka to the rest, and it is popular with novices studying late into the night."

"It would be," Chakori chuckled. "There is another exotic product that Kyralians have embraced in recent years that begins with an 'r', isn't there?"

"Roet." Dannyl shook his head. "It has become quite a problem."

The Ashaki nodded. "Slaves of one of the southern estates acquired some, recently, though I do not know how. Perhaps an enterprising trader from Kyralia brought it across the mountains. It had an alarming effect, causing slaves to rebel or refuse to work. Their owner has forbidden its use and the possession of it, too and recommended that others do the same."

"A good idea," Dannyl said. And yet ... if roet induced slaves to revolt, perhaps it could be the key to ending slavery in Sachaka. But afterwards the country would be in trouble, with most of its workforce rendered useless. It would take a ruthless or desperate enemy to do that, and if roet production took hold here what would that mean for Kyralia? And yet ... if roet induced slaves to revolt, perhaps it could be the key to ending slavery in Sachaka. But afterwards the country would be in trouble, with most of its workforce rendered useless. It would take a ruthless or desperate enemy to do that, and if roet production took hold here what would that mean for Kyralia?

"Would you like to eat, or wait until later?" Chakori asked. "I could take you around the estate, if you are not tired from your journey."

Achati looked at Dannyl and Tayend. Dannyl lifted his shoulders to show he was amenable to either choice. Tayend nodded.

"Both are inviting offers," Achati told his cousin. "Whatever is most convenient."

The Ashaki smiled. "Then I will give you a tour, since I have ordered a special dish prepared for you that is always best cooked for at least three hours."

Chakori led them through the mansion. Though the estate was unconventional in its lack of an outer wall, the mansion's interior layout and decoration were traditional. A main corridor wound from the Master Room where they had met Chakori past two clusters of rooms, but unlike in the Guild House the corridor branched and the passage Chakori led them down took them to a rear entrance.

They stepped out into a generous courtyard area and headed toward the work buildings. The two tall, circular structures made the mansion look small and meek. The smell of raka beans roasting was strong.

Chakori gestured at the buildings. "The one on the left is for storage and fermentation; the one on the right for roasting and packing." He headed toward the store, ushering them through a heavy wooden door into a lamp-lit room. A globe light fizzed into existence above his head and brightened to light the whole interior.

The room was divided into sections, with wooden walls radiating out from a central area. Slaves had removed one of these walls and were raking a great mound of beans into the neighbouring space. Another group were shovelling beans into barrows. As a slave moved from one group to another, clearly watching over the progress, Dannyl felt a shock of recognition.

It's Varn!

Chakori led his guests into the central area, the slaves throwing themselves onto the floor at their master's arrival, and as Varn turned, his eyes flicked from Chakori to Achati. He hesitated for the tiniest moment in surprise, before dropping in turn.

Dannyl looked at Achati. Varn's former master looked surprised, and a little dismayed, but he quickly recovered his composure.

"I used to own your supervising slave," he told Chakori.

His cousin nodded. "Yes, the man I bought him from told me Varn was yours once. He has been a good worker."

"He is. A good source slave, too. Why did Voriki sell him, do you know?"

Chakori shrugged. "I don't know. I suspect he needed the money. Do you regret selling him? Do you wish to buy him back?"

Dannyl was glad he was standing behind the two Sachakans, and they couldn't see him wince at the way they so casually discussed buying and selling people people.

Achati didn't answer straightaway. "It is tempting, and at times I do regret selling him, but no."

Nodding, Chakori gave the order for the slaves to resume work, and began explaining the storage and fermentation process. Dannyl resisted the urge to watch Varn to see if he cast any looks in Achati's direction, and whether they'd be reproachful or not. He could not help remembering catching sight of the two of them during the hunt for Lorkin, when they thought themselves unobserved and that nobody would see the obvious affection and desire between them. But what was it that Achati had said later?

"Only when you know the other could easily leave you, do you appreciate when he stays."

Was that why Achati had sold Varn? Had he come to suspect that Varn's adoration was faked? Or had he known it, from reading Varn's mind?

As Chakori finished explaining, he invited them to look around the room. They moved around the storage segments, inspecting the glistening beans. A pile of discarded leaves that looked like large elongated bowls stood nearby. Dannyl turned to their host as they drew level with Varn and the slaves raking the fermenting beans.

"What do the raka plants look like?" he asked.

Chakori smiled, pleased at the question. "They are small trees about double the height of a man. The beans come in pods like these." Dannyl followed as Chakori headed for the discarded leaves, but Achati hung back. Chakori picked two up and handed one each to Dannyl and Tayend. They were thick and as inflexible as gorin leather.

"Do you make anything from these?" Tayend asked.

"I give them to a neighbour, who chops them up and spreads them over his fields. He swears they repel insects and make the plants grow faster." Chakori shrugged.

"They look like little boat hulls," Tayend observed. "Or they could be used as bowls. Do they burn? Does the smoke smell like raka?"

Dannyl glanced back at Achati. His friend was talking to Varn. The slave's gaze was lowered, but he smiled faintly and nodded. Achati looked relieved. Dannyl turned back to find Tayend rubbing the inside of his pod.

"Shoes," he muttered. "I wonder if you could carve them into shoes."

Achati appeared at Dannyl's elbow. "I wouldn't want to walk for long in them."

"No. You're right," Tayend agreed. He gave the pod back to Chakori, who tossed it back on the pile.

"Now," Chakori said. "Let me show you the roasting process."

Lorkin had discovered something that nobody in the Guild, perhaps not even his own mother, knew.

Being drained of magic over and over gives a person a dreadful headache.

His captors had kept him from recovering magically by taking power at regular intervals. It left him unable to even remove the blindfold over his eyes. Even when he'd had the strength to move, the few attempts he had made to push the blindfold off by rubbing his head against the wall had resulted in a whack over his head that left his ears ringing.

Having no strength also left him unable to ease the strain and ache from having his arms tied behind his back and the sleepless hours lying on the cold, uneven stone floor. It should not have left him incapable of calling out with his mind, however. Something else was preventing that. He was not sure what. The idea that someone might have blocked his magic while he was unconscious had left him feeling very vulnerable and violated, until it occurred to him a little while later that they wouldn't be draining his power so often if he couldn't use it.

The hours that passed were long and miserable.

He could do nothing but think, and try to find a way out of his predicament. His captors were most probably members of Kalia's faction. It was very unlikely that outsiders were living in Sanctuary, though he couldn't dismiss the idea. Perhaps the Guild had arranged for his rescue, recruiting disgruntled Traitors or promising them something like Healing knowledge in return for rescuing him. Perhaps the Sachakan king already had spies here, and wanted Lorkin removed from Sanctuary before it was invaded.

Trouble was, in either case it didn't make sense for him to be abducted like this.

The most likely culprits are Kalia's people, he concluded once again.

He told himself that they wouldn't dare kill him, but he could not help worrying that he was wrong. Execution of a Traitor was punishable by death, but Kalia's faction would most likely reason he wasn't truly a Traitor. Perhaps one of them was willing to take the blame and sacrifice themselves in order for Sanctuary to be rid of him.

When he asked himself what else they might want with him, the answer made his heart beat faster with both fear and anger.

No matter what they intend to do with me, they are going to read my mind. When they do, they'll dig up all I know about Healing.

This had led him to wonder what he would do if they demanded that knowledge in exchange for his life. It was highly unlikely they would do so, since there was no need for them to gain his cooperation, but while you could pick up the basics of Healing from a mind-read, there was no substitute for experience and practice.

If they do ... would I give it to them? Is keeping this knowledge from them more important than my life?

Sometimes he didn't think it was. He had never liked having to withhold knowledge that would help these people. He couldn't blame them for resorting to unscrupulous tactics to gain it.

But it wasn't his decision to make. The knowledge was the Guild's to give. Would the Guild expect him to die to protect that right?

Do I really have to bow to the Guild's authority? I told Dannyl everyone should act as if I'd left the Guild. Did I really mean that? Do I still consider myself a Guild magician?

He didn't get the chance to consider that for long. The sound of a door opening and closing set his pulse racing again. He heard footsteps. Something about the rhythm of them made his heart sink and anger stir within him. He'd know that short, crisp gait anywhere.

Kalia.

"Where have you been? We've guarded him for hours," a woman complained. One of the guards who had been watching over and draining him, Lorkin guessed.

"I couldn't get away sooner. I was being watched," Kalia replied.

"Of course you were. Someone else should be doing this," the second guard pointed out.

"I am Sanctuary's healer," Kalia replied archly. "It is my responsibility to ensure our people get the best treatment."

The two women said nothing to that. Footsteps came closer. He heard the creak of joints. His skin itched under the blindfold. Something cool and alive touched his forehead.

He jerked reflexively, shaking off the hand. Then a pressure gripped his head, holding it firmly against the floor. The rough surface dug painfully into the back of his head. The cool touch returned.

He felt a presence at the edge of his mind. He felt it effortlessly slip into into his mind. Though it made his headache increase, he tried to fight the will that took hold of his memories. But it was useless. Nothing stopped the greedy mind in its searching and examining. his mind. Though it made his headache increase, he tried to fight the will that took hold of his memories. But it was useless. Nothing stopped the greedy mind in its searching and examining.

-You won't get away with this, he thought at the invader. If you use magic to Heal people they will know you stole the knowledge from me. If you use magic to Heal people they will know you stole the knowledge from me.

-But you gave it to me willingly, Kalia replied. Right before you left for home. I'll tell them I tried to talk you out of it, of course. Said you should wait so I could organise a guide for you or you would freeze to death. But, being the ignorant Kyralian that you are, you were too proud to accept the offer. It will be your own fault you died. Right before you left for home. I'll tell them I tried to talk you out of it, of course. Said you should wait so I could organise a guide for you or you would freeze to death. But, being the ignorant Kyralian that you are, you were too proud to accept the offer. It will be your own fault you died.

-They won't believe it.

-Of course they won't. But they'll have to accept it, since there will be no other witnesses.

Lorkin felt despair threatening to overcome his self-control. He pushed it aside and, as Kalia delved into his memories again and called knowledge of magical Healing to the surface, he tried to distract her with other thoughts. She ignored them, too eager to learn what he knew. Only when her curiosity was satisfied did her attention stray. And when it did, she prompted his mind for memories and facts he would not want her to see.

The mind was a traitor, and did not need much prompting. Normally he would have been able to put those memories behind imagined doors in his mind, safely out of sight. Normally the magician who stepped inside his mind would politely ignore those doors. But not Kalia.

She chased after memories of his childhood in the Guild, amused as she saw how he had been mocked over his mother's low origins and unmarried state; gleeful at learning how he'd had his heart broken by his first love, Beriya; derisive of expectations that he would do something as heroic as his father; and contemptuous of his attraction to Tyvara ...

A sound broke Kalia's concentration. Lorkin's ears told him it was loud, but with his attention locked within his mind he did not feel feel it. Then his awareness snapped back to the physical world. His senses reeled. it. Then his awareness snapped back to the physical world. His senses reeled.

"What?" Kalia snapped.

"You were followed. We've distracted them, but we don't have long until they realise."

Silence followed. Lorkin could hear Kalia's breathing.

"Is it done?" one of the guards asked.

"Perhaps," Kalia replied, in a speculative tone that sent a chill down his spine. "Get him up. I know the perfect place to hide him."

Head still reeling, though now more from lack of food and water, Lorkin felt hands haul him to his feet, then push him forward into the close-sounding space of a passage.

CHAPTER 17.

MIND GAMES.

The snow that had fallen the night before lay in drifts on either side of the road. It lingered in the shade of the trees, where the sunlight had not yet touched. Sonea leaned closer to the window to look up at the Lookout, wondering if the building was colder than those of the city. Something drew her gaze to the third row of windows.

Is that someone looking out? She frowned and looked closer, making out the face of a young woman in one of the windows. She frowned and looked closer, making out the face of a young woman in one of the windows. Lilia. Lilia.

The girl was watching the carriage. It seemed as if their gazes met, though Sonea was too far away to tell if it was her imagination or not. Then the carriage turned and they were no longer in sight of each other.

Ten years is a long time, Sonea found herself thinking. But at least she's alive and safe. But at least she's alive and safe.

Her thoughts turned to Naki. The girl had been missing for a week. Her servants had not reported her absence until Naki had been gone longer than usual. Apparently she had occasionally disappeared for a few days without explan ation. All of the household staff had been questioned by magicians and their guesses at her location followed up, but investigations had proven them wrong. Relatives had been contacted but none had heard from the girl.

Naki had received no visitors recently, but plenty of letters. One servant had told how Naki had not looked happy after receiving the letters, and had burned them with magic immediately.

But when Kallen pointed out that Naki's powers had been blocked, so she couldn't have used magic, the servant looked thoughtful. She said she had seen Naki throw a letter into the fire recently, but thought it was out of anger. It didn't occur to her that it was because Naki couldn't use magic any more.

Kallen had asked if the letters had stopped since Naki had left the house. The servant had thought about it, then nodded. Clever Kallen Clever Kallen, Sonea thought. I was thinking about asking when the letters started, not if they stopped coming. I was thinking about asking when the letters started, not if they stopped coming.

The carriage slowed to a halt at the base of the tower. Sonea climbed out and felt the chill air surround her. The guards standing around the tower were well rugged up. She resisted the habit of creating a shield about herself and heating the air within. The crisp air was refreshing and she had always loved to see her own breath mist. It had seemed magical to her as a child, even though it usually meant she was shivering with cold.

A memory flashed into her mind of being huddled in an old coat, her feet aching as the cold penetrated her thin-soled boots. Then the door of the Lookout opened and the memory faded. A guard was bowing and beckoning hastily at the same time, eager to avoid letting cold air into the building.