Brilliant light suddenly dazzled his eyes. He squinted as his eyes adjusted, then realised two things.

There was a hand covering Tyvara’s mouth.

And it wasn’t Tyvara.

Another woman loomed over him and the stranger, and he recognised her with a jolt. This was Tyvara.

But her face was distorted by a savage scowl. She was straining to hold the stranger, who was still making muffled sounds and struggling. Something warm and wet dripped onto his chest. He looked down. It was red, and a trail of it was running down the stranger’s side.

Blood!

He felt cold all over, then horror filled him with strength and he pushed the stranger and Tyvara off him and scrambled away. The push caused Tyvara’s hand to slip from the stranger’s mouth and for her to nearly tumble off the end of the bed. As the stranger rolled onto her side, her eyes locked with Tyvara’s.

“You! But… he has to die. You…” Blood leaked from her mouth. She coughed and clutched at her side. Her expression filled with hatred even as she seemed to lose strength. “You are a traitor to your people,” she spat.

“I told you I would not let you kill him. You should have heeded my warning and left.”

The woman opened her mouth to reply, then tensed as a spasm locked her muscles. Tyvara grabbed the woman’s arm.

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.”

He did not move. Do I believe her? Do I have a choice? She knows black magic. She can probably force me to go with her. And if she wants me dead why would she save my life? Unless that was a lie, and she just killed an innocent slave in order to convince me of… something.

Then he remembered the look on the stranger’s face when she saw Tyvara. “But… he has to die,” she’d said. That confirmed that she’d wanted to kill him. “You are a traitor to your people!” she’d also said to Tyvara. Did “your people” mean the Sachakan people? Suddenly his mother’s concerns seemed much too real. At least Tyvara seems to want to keep me alive. If I stay here, who knows what will happen? Well, Tyvara believes someone else will try to kill me.

He was in trouble. But he remembered what he’d decided at the Hearing. Whatever trouble he got into, he had to get himself out of again. Weighing up the choices he had, he settled on what he hoped was the best one.

He glanced around the room. Did he need anything else? No. He already had his mother’s ring. He walked over to Tyvara.

“I have everything I need.”

She nodded and turned to the doorway, peering out into the corridor.

“So, who was it exactly that you said my father crossed?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time for me to explain.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“But I will, later.”

“I’m taking that as a promise,” he told her.

She frowned, placed a hand on her lips to indicate silence, then beckoned and quietly slipped out into the dark corridors of the Guild House.