She nodded. "It would be good to meet some local women."

Achati smiled and looked at Dannyl. "Should I enquire with them if your assistant would be welcome?"

Belatedly, Dannyl realised Achati was asking his permission, as if Merria's social life was his responsibility. Amused, he looked at the Healer. She looked a little distant, as if she hadn't heard the question, but perhaps her lack of expression came from her effort to show nothing of her true feelings.

"Yes, please do," Dannyl replied.

Achati looked pleased. "Perhaps I can find you something to do, as well," he murmured. Looking at Dannyl pointedly, he beckoned and headed toward an Ashaki whose partner in conversation had just moved away. Dannyl followed.

"Ashaki Ritova. I was just telling Ambassador Dannyl about your impressive library."

The Sachakan turned to face Achati. He wore a haughty expression that softened very slightly into respect toward Achati, but returned when he looked at Dannyl.

"Ashaki Achati. You need not boast on my behalf."

"Yet I always feel inclined to. Surely it is the best collection in Sachaka, aside from the palace library."

"It is a meagre pile of books in comparison."

"Even so, I am sure Ambassador Dannyl would be astounded at how old some of your records are."

The man glanced at Dannyl again. "I doubt you would find anything of interest, Ambassador." He sighed. "I do not have the time to look in there myself. Too busy discussing treaties with the eastern lands."

He shook his head and began a long and boring criticism of the peoples the Sachakans traded with over the Aduna Sea. It would have been interesting to learn more about these lands, but Dannyl quickly realised that the Ashaki's assessment was tainted with dislike and prejudice, and unlikely to be a true description. When Achati finally managed to extract them without insulting Ritova, he apologised.

"I hoped to get something out of that for you," he murmured. "But he is as stubborn as ..."

The Master of War, Kirota, drew near. Seeing Dannyl, he sidled over.

"Ashaki Achati. Ambassador Dannyl. A pleasure to see you again, Ambassador. I hear you and Ambassador Tayend are closely connected. Is this true?"

Dannyl nodded. "We have long been friends. Over twenty years."

Kirota frowned. "Ambassador Tayend said he lived in Elyne when you first met."

"Yes, as did I," Dannyl explained. "I was Guild Ambassador to Elyne. I met Tayend at the Great Library. He assisted me in some research for the Guild."

"Ah, yes! Tayend mentioned your research. How is it going?"

Dannyl shrugged. "I've made little progress recently."

Kirota nodded sympathetically. "Such is the life of a researcher. A big discovery one moment, long gaps between. I wish you more success soon."

"Thank you," Dannyl replied. "You expressed an interest in filling gaps in your own records last time we met," he added. "My offer to assist still stands."

The Master of War's face brightened. "I will be sure to take it up." His gaze flickered past Dannyl's shoulder. "Ah. More of those delicious rassook legs. This time I'm determined to get more than one before they all go. I like this Kyralian food." He grinned and hurried away.

Hearing a chuckle beside him, Dannyl turned to look at Achati. The man smiled.

"You did well there," he murmured. "It could be that, now that you're no longer the newest thing to examine, the best way to gain what you need is to trade for it."

Dannyl nodded and felt his heart lighten a little.

"Though I doubt Kirota can do much for you in return," Achati warned in a low voice. "Still ... consider it an investment."

As the small flare of hope faded, Dannyl suppressed a sigh. He saw Tayend watching him from the other side of the room, a thoughtful look on his former lover's face, and suddenly all Dannyl wanted to do was leave the party.

But he had no choice but to stay, so he stiffened his back and followed Achati to the next group of Sachakans.

Lorkin had been expecting luxury and expensive decoration. He had expected the Traitor equivalent of servants hovering about, ready to do their monarch's bidding, and guards at every door.

But the rooms of the Traitor queen were not much larger or finer than those of the women he had visited while assisting Speaker Kalia in her visits to the sick or pregnant. The only obvious guard was a single magician sitting in the corridor outside, near the door. Maybe the young woman who had answered his knock on the door was a magician, too, though she seemed too young for the role of royal protector. She had greeted him with a cheerful, welcoming smile, introduced herself as Pelaya, then ushered him inside.

Now he stood within a circle of plain wooden chairs. An old woman was standing before one of them as if she had just stood up. She was not dressed in finery, but then she hadn't been the day of Tyvara's trial either. If he hadn't recognised her face, he might have mistaken her for another visitor waiting for the queen.

But her bright eyes were sharp and her stare very direct, and there was something about her composure and focus that spoke of confidence and command. He put a hand to his chest and waited for a response, as he'd been instructed to do when he had first entered the presence of the queen.

She waved a hand dismissively. "I don't bother with formality in my own home, Lord Lorkin. I am too old and tired for it. Please sit down." She reached backwards and, with obvious difficulty, began to lower herself onto a chair. He automatically took a step forward to help her, then stopped, not sure if touching her would be inappropriate.

"Wait for me, Zarala," Pelaya said, her voice gently scolding, as she hurried forward to assist the old queen.

"I'm fine," Zarala replied. "Just slow."

Once she was settled, the queen indicated the chair next to hers. Lorkin sat down. The young woman disappeared into another room. The queen regarded him thoughtfully.

"How are you finding living in Sanctuary?"

"It is a wonderful place, your majesty," he began. "I-"

"No formality," the queen interrupted, waving a finger at him. "Call me Zarala."

He nodded. "Zarala. It is a beautiful name."

She grinned. "I like flattery. It will gain you nothing, though. I am too old for that sort of thing to influence me. Not that you should stop, if you happen to enjoy it."

"I do," Lorkin replied. "And should you happen to enjoy it, you are welcome to send some my way, too," he added quickly.

To his relief, she laughed. "Go on. Tell me how you are doing."

"I am amazed at Traitor generosity and friendliness. Your people have welcomed me, given me food and shelter, and duties that make me feel useful."

"Why would you be surprised at that?"

Lorkin shrugged. "For a people so secretive, I would have expected it to take a long time to be so accepted among you."

She considered him closely. "You know that you haven't been, don't you? Fully accepted, that is. A lot of people like you, and a lot appreciate what you did for Tyvara, but nobody is fool enough to trust you yet."

He nodded and met her gaze. "Yes, I do sense that. It's understandable. I suppose I am amazed that it isn't more obvious."

"I've heard only a few reports of people taking a dislike to you personally, but mostly they don't like you on principle."

He looked at her. "Because of my father."

"Yes and Riva's death." All sign of her lighter mood was gone now. The wrinkles across her brows deepened. "I want you to know that I don't blame you for what your father did. It is ridiculous to think a child is responsible for what their parent does."

"I ... I am glad you feel that way."

She leaned forward and patted him on the knee. "I'm sure you are. You'd probably be dead, otherwise." Humour had re-entered her voice and eyes, and he smiled.

"I don't resent your father any more either," she told him, looking away and growing serious again. Serious and sad. "Despite losing a daughter to a sickness that could have been cured. We went about things the wrong way. Something about your father had convinced me he was an honourable man. I thought I'd been wrong, but came to see that perhaps I wasn't, that I'd failed to see that there would be something he felt a stronger loyalty to."

"The Guild? Kyralia?" Lorkin suggested.

She looked at him. "You didn't know about the deal he made, did you?" she said quietly.

He shook his head. "I was appalled to find he made such a bargain and dishonoured it."

"He died before you were born. I suppose he never got the chance to tell you."

"And Mother never mentioned it. She couldn't have known."

"Why are you so certain?"

"She was determined to stop me going to Sachaka. If she'd had proof I would be in danger from the Traitors, she would have used it."

"Do you miss her?"

Her stare was very direct. He nodded. "And yet a part of me wants to be ... to be ..."

"Living your own life? Making your own decisions?"

He nodded.

She waved a hand at the room, or beyond. "And here you are, stuck in Sanctuary."

"It is a pleasant place to be stuck."

She smiled approvingly. "I hope you continue to think so." Her smile faded again. "Because life might not always be so comfortable here for you. I am old. I can't be certain who will succeed me. All know that Savara is the Speaker I favour to be the next queen, and she likes you, but that does not mean the people will vote for her. They certainly won't if they come to question my decisions." She pointed at him. "Like allowing a Kyralian magician into Sanctuary who turned out to be too nosy."

Her eyes were hard and ever so slightly accusing. His face began to warm and he looked away, not sure what to say.

"But they may be satisfied now that I have brought you in here for a good chiding. Savara has decided that it would be better if she forbids Tyvara from being seen with you, so it is clear that she disapproves of your exploration of the caves.

Lorkin's heart made a small lurch. But it wasn't like we were seeing each other anyway But it wasn't like we were seeing each other anyway, he reminded himself. Zarala smiled and patted him on the knee again. "I have some friendly and free advice for you, young Lorkin. Be careful how much trouble you stir up. It might bring you, and others, a whole lot more than you realise."

He nodded. "Thank you. I will take your advice. No trouble."

She looked pleased. "You're a smart young man. There I have flattered you in return. Would you like something to eat?" She did not wait for him to reply, but turned in the other direction, toward the inner door.

"Pelaya? Is there anything for our visitor to eat?"

"Of course there is," the young woman replied. She appeared in the doorway holding a simple wooden tray topped with glasses, water and a bowl of cakes, obviously having been waiting for the queen to call.

the rogue "Ah, my favourite," the queen said, rubbing her hands together. She smirked at Lorkin. "Pelaya is a fabulous cook. Does it all with magic." As the young woman carried the tray into the room, Zarala turned to stare at a nearby small table. It rose in the air and floated toward them, settling before Lorkin.

She may be old and too tired for formality, Lorkin mused, but I can see why she is queen. And I'd wager she's still as powerful and smart as the day she became one. but I can see why she is queen. And I'd wager she's still as powerful and smart as the day she became one.

As Pelaya set the tray down and offered him a cake, he wondered how much the queen had guessed of his plans, because he doubted she believed he was content to settle into his place among the Traitors forever.

Perhaps she was telling him to hold off on them because he'd have a better chance of success after she died, if Savara succeeded her.

But having met her now, I really like her, and I hope that doesn't happen very soon.

CHAPTER 5.

QUESTIONS, QUESTIONS.

As the lamps were lit around the courtyard, Sonea started toward the strangest of the Guild buildings. The Dome wasn't really a dome, but a full sphere a hollow ball of solid rock. Since half of it was buried in the ground it had a domelike appearance.

It was as old as the Guild itself. Before the Guild had built the Arena a shield of magic supported by huge curved struts the more dangerous fighting lessons had been held inside the Dome. There had been many disadvantages to using the structure for this purpose. Unlike with the Arena, spectators could not watch the lesson inside. The thick walls would never have survived a strong attack, so all practice strikes had to be restrained. The strikes that did hit the walls could heat the stone up, making the interior intolerably hot. And the only way to get fresh air inside was to open the plug-like door.

According to the old records that Akkarin had found, the plug had been knocked out during lessons many times over the years, and once even killed a passing servant. Now it was being held in place by magic. Twice a day it was removed and new air sent into the interior to replace the old. At the same time, food and water was taken in and the bucket that served as a toilet removed and emptied.

Sonea could not help thinking of her experience as a captive rogue. Rothen had kept her in his rooms, slowly gaining her trust with kindness and patience while teaching her about the Guild. But Lorandra was no ignorant young woman, come to magic by accident and of greater danger to herself than the Guild. She had her powers well in check and, with her son, had plotted against the Guild.

Yet I know what it's like to be locked in the Dome. When the Higher Magicians had discovered that Sonea had learned black magic, they had imprisoned her here for a night, and Akkarin in the Arena, while they roused the Higher Magicians in preparation for their trial. It was stuffy and oppressive. When the Higher Magicians had discovered that Sonea had learned black magic, they had imprisoned her here for a night, and Akkarin in the Arena, while they roused the Higher Magicians in preparation for their trial. It was stuffy and oppressive. I was in there for only a handful of hours. I can't imagine what it's been like to be stuck in there for months. I was in there for only a handful of hours. I can't imagine what it's been like to be stuck in there for months.

Sonea took a deep breath and resisted the urge to turn and walk in another direction. While she felt some sympathy toward Lorandra, she was always reluctant to visit the woman. Skellin's mother had never spoken a word, and hate and fear had radiated from her. The woman's hate she could live with. It was the uncompromising hate of a mother toward those who would harm her son, and having experienced that emotion herself Sonea figured that it was fair.

No, it was the fear that bothered Sonea. She was used to people being a little afraid of her because of what she had done in her youth and was capable of doing with black magic, but Lorandra's fear was simple blind terror, and that made irrelevant all Sonea had done in her life to prove that she was an honourable and trustworthy person.

And Cery would have me lie to her.

The two guards standing on either side of the door looked bored and annoyed, but as they saw her approaching they straightened and nodded to her respectfully. Both were male and from the Houses, she noted. So far she hadn't seen any magicians from the lower classes standing guard. Did Administrator Osen not trust that they would keep a Thief's mother imprisoned? Surely he wasn't naive enough to think that magicians from the higher class were immune from being blackmailed or bribed by the underworld. She stopped and nodded at the door.

"How long since it was last opened?"

"Three hours, Black Magician Sonea," the taller of the magicians replied.

"Did you get Administrator Osen's instructions?"