“My faction has more influence on our people,” she told him. “We say that killing you could lead to war between Sachaka and Kyralia. That we should only kill when it is unavoidable. That blaming the child for the actions of the parent is how Sachakans think, not us. But…”

She paused, and when she continued her voice had lowered. “But I have done something that may shift that balance.” She drew in another breath, and this time it shook slightly. “The woman I killed to save you – Riva – was not an assassin sent by a Sachakan family. She was a Traitor. One from the other faction.”

“You lied,” Lorkin stated.

“Yes. Even if I’d had time to explain at the Guild House, you wouldn’t have come with me, and you’d probably be dead by now.”

Lorkin scowled. What else has she lied about? But if all else that she said was true, especially about the Traitors, he understood the deception. I wouldn’t have left with her. I’d have been too confused.

“When my people find out that I killed her, the other faction will gain support,” Tyvara continued. “And from the way things went here I’d say the news has definitely overtaken us. Anyone from the other faction won’t help us, and they’ll try to stop others helping us. They might try to kill you. They might try to kill us both.”

“And the Traitors from your faction?”

“They won’t try to kill us, but they may not help us in case that makes them guilty of helping a murderer. Eventually the news will reach Sanctuary and our leaders will override any orders scout leaders in the estates have made. Official orders will be sent out.”

Lorkin’s head spun with all this new information. Throughout Sachaka there were people – a whole society of them – deciding whether he should be killed or not. He shook his head. And what did she mean by “blaming a child for the actions of a parent”? What did my parents do to make them so angry? He had too many questions, and he and Tyvara could be discovered at any moment. Best stick to the more immediate problems. Like how much danger he was in from these Traitors.

“So, if your faction was in control, why did Riva try to kill me?”

Tyvara gave a short, bitter laugh. “She disobeyed her orders. Disobeyed me.”

“And nobody knows that, so they think you murdered her?”

A pause. “Yes, but even when they find out why I killed her… Traitors don’t kill Traitors. It’s a far more serious crime than disobeying orders. Even my own faction will want me punished for that.”

“They’ll kill you?”

“I… I don’t know.” She sounded so uncertain, even frightened, that he suddenly had to resist the urge to put his arms around her and reassure her that everything would be fine. But the words would be a lie. He had no idea what was going to happen, where to go, or even where he was. She had dragged him away from all he understood. This was her world. She was the resourceful one. Whether he liked it or not, he needed her to be in charge.

“If anyone can get us out of this, you can,” he told her. “So what should we do now? Go back to Arvice? Go to Kyralia?”

“We can’t go to either. We have Traitors in almost every household in Sachaka. Now that my people know what I have done there will be Traitors watching the Pass.” He heard the soft sound of fingers drumming on something. “We can’t run away. What we need to do is reach my people – my faction. We will have a chance to explain, and you will be safe. No matter what happens to me, they will protect you.” She chuckled quietly. “All I have to do is get you safely across most of Sachaka and to the mountains, without the other faction finding us. Or any Kyralians and Sachakans that are bound to start looking for you.”

“The mountains, eh?”

“Yes. And now that it’s dark, I think it’s time we made a start. We’ll drop down by that wall and follow it across to the one that meets the wall that follows the road. Ready?”

He nodded, then grinned ruefully as he realised she couldn’t see him.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m ready.”

The young woman in the examination room had dark shadows under her eyes. In her lap a small baby wriggled, its face screwed up as it howled with almost inhuman volume.

“I don’t know what to do with him,” the woman confessed. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Let me have a look,” Sonea offered.

The mother handed over the child. Taking him into her lap, Sonea examined him thoroughly, both by touch and sight and with magic. To her relief there was no sign of injury or disease. She sensed a more ordinary disturbance, however.

“He’s fine,” she assured the girl. “Just hungry.”

“Already?” The girl’s hand went to her chest. “I can’t seem to make enough-”

Abruptly the door opened and Healer Nikea slipped into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, looking at the young woman apologetically. Then her eyes rose to meet Sonea’s. “There’s a messenger here for you. He says it’s urgent.”

Sonea felt her heart skip a beat. Was it Cery? She rose and handed the baby back to his mother. “You had better send him in. Could you take this young woman to Adrea.” She looked at the mother and smiled. “Adrea is an expert at dealing with production problems and food alternatives. I wish I’d known her when my son was born. She’ll help you out.”

The young woman nodded and followed Nikea out of the room. The door closed behind them. Sonea stared at it as she waited for Cery. When it finally opened, however, it was a large man who entered the room. He looked familiar, and after a moment she remembered who he was.

“Gol, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” he said.

She smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had called her “my lady” instead of “Black Magician.” “What news?”

“We’ve found her,” the big man said, his eyes widening with excitement. “I tracked her back to where she lives, and now Cery’s keeping an eye on her until you can come get her.”

Sonea felt her heart skip again, but then her stomach sank. I won’t be getting her. I have to send for Rothen. And Regin. Could she simply neglect to summon Regin? No, if the rogue is a strong magician she might overcome Rothen. Perhaps even kill him. Better that two magicians confront her rather than one. Oh, I wish I could go with him! But if I’m going to have to trust Regin with the knowledge that I’ve withheld information about a rogue, then he needs to get his hands dirty, too.

“How long have we got?” she asked.

Gol shrugged. “I don’t know, but if we’re lucky she’s gone to bed.”

“I need to send for some help. Two magicians are better than one in this situation.” She took a piece of paper and quickly scrawled the words “Northside” and “Now?” on it, then folded it and wrote Regin’s name and title on the back. Then she wrote the same message to Rothen. “Give these to Healer Nikea – the one who brought you in.”

Gol took the notes and slipped out of the room.

When the door opened again, Sonea expected it to be Gol returning. Instead it was Healer Nikea. As the young woman approached, she met Sonea’s eyes, then looked away, and immediately Sonea’s skin began to prickle. She’s going to ask me what all this is about. Maybe she’s recognised Gol, or found out that he works for a Thief. I doubt she’s going to scold me, but Nikea’s not the sort to let anything she disapproves of go unmentioned and ignored.

“Ah… I wanted to say…” the young woman began, rubbing her hands together with uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Yes?” Sonea prompted.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, I know it’s got to be for a good purpose.” Nikea straightened. “If you need someone here to… to ‘cover your tracks’, as they say, you can rely on me. And some of the other Healers, too. We’ll tell people you were here if you need to go out.”

Sonea realised her mouth had dropped open in surprise, and she quickly closed it.

“How many of you think this?” she managed to ask.