Lorkin did not fit into either group. His mother had come from the slums, his father from one of the most powerful Houses in Imardin. He had grown up in the Guild, away from the political manipulations and obligations of the Houses or the hard life of the slums. Most of his friends were snooties. He hadn’t avoided befriending lowies deliberately, but most lowies, while not appearing to resent him like they did the snooties, had been hard to talk to. It was only after some years, when Lorkin had a firm circle of snooty friends, that he realised that the lowies had been intimidated by him – or rather, who his father had been.

“… Sachaka like? Do they really still keep slaves?”

Lorkin’s attention snapped back to the conversation, and he shivered. The name of the land from which his father’s murderer had come from always sent a chill down his spine. Yet while it had once been from fear, now it was also from a strange excitement. Since the Ichani Invasion the Allied Lands had turned their attention to the neighbour they’d once ignored. Magicians and diplomats had ventured into Sachaka, seeking to avoid future conflict through negotiation, trade and agreements. Whenever they returned they brought descriptions of a strange culture and stranger landscape.

“They do,” Perler replied. Lorkin sat up a little straighter. Reater’s older brother had returned from Sachaka a few weeks ago, having spent a year working as the assistant to the Guild Ambassador to Sachaka. “Though you don’t see most of them. Your robes disappear from your room and reappear cleaned, but you never see who takes them. But you see the slave assigned to serve you, of course. We all have one.”

“So you had a slave?” Sherran asked. “Isn’t that against the king’s law?”

“They don’t belong to us,” Perler replied, shrugging. “The Sachakans don’t know how to treat servants properly, so we have to let them assign us slaves. Either that or we’d have to wash our own clothes and cook our own meals.”

“Which would be terrible,” Lorkin said in mock horror. His mother’s aunt was her servant, and her family worked as servants for rich families, yet they had a dignity and resourcefulness that he respected. He was determined that, should he ever have to do domestic chores, he would never be as humiliated by it as his fellow magicians would be.

Perler looked at him and shook his head. “There’d be no time to do it ourselves. There’s always so much work to do. Ah, here are the drinks.”

“What sort of work?” Orlon asked as glasses of wine or water were poured and handed around.

“Negotiating trade deals, trying to encourage the Sachakans to abolish slavery in order to join the Allied Lands, keeping up with Sachakan politics – there is a group of rebels Ambassador Maron heard of that he was trying to find out more about, until he had to return to sort out his family’s troubles.”

“Sounds boring,” Dekker said.

“Actually, it was rather exciting.” Perler grinned. “A little scary at times, but I felt like we were doing something, well, historic. Making a difference. Changing things for the better – even if in tiny steps.”

Lorkin felt a strange thrill go through him. “Do you think they’re coming around on slavery?” he asked.

Perler shrugged. “Some are, but it’s hard to tell if they’re pretending to agree in order to be polite, or gain something from us. Maron thinks they could be persuaded to give up slavery much more easily than black magic.”

“It’s going to be hard to persuade them to give up black magic when we have two black magicians,” Reater pointed out. “Seems a bit hypocritical.”

“Once they ban black magic we will, too,” Perler said confidently.

Dekker turned to grin at Lorkin. “If that happens Lorkin won’t be taking over from his mother.”

Lorkin gave a snort of derision. “As if she’d let me. She’d much rather I took over running the hospices.”

“Would that be so bad?” Orlon asked quietly. “Just because you chose Alchemy doesn’t mean you couldn’t help out the Healers.”

“You need to be driven by absolute, unwavering dedication to run something like a hospice,” Lorkin replied. “I’m not. Though I almost wish I was.”

“Why?” Jalie asked.

Lorkin spread his hands. “I’d like to do something useful with my life.”

“Pah!” Dekker said. “If you can afford to spend your life indulging yourself, why wouldn’t you?”

“Boredom?” Orlon suggested.

“Who is bored?” a new, feminine voice said.

A completely different sort of thrill ran down Lorkin’s spine. He felt his breath catch in his throat, and his stomach clenched unpleasantly. All turned to see a dark-haired young woman slip through the door. She smiled as she looked around the room. As her eyes met Lorkin’s, her smile faltered, but only for a moment.

“Beriya.” He spoke her name almost without wanting to, and he instantly hated how it came out in a weak, pathetic gasp.

“Come join us,” Dekker invited.

No, Lorkin wanted to say. But he was supposed to be over Beriya. It had been two years since her family had taken her away to Elyne. As she sat down, he looked away as if uninterested in her, and tried to relax the muscles that had stiffened the moment he’d heard her voice. Which was most of them.

She was the first woman he’d fallen in love with – and so far the only one. They’d met at every opportunity, openly and in secret. Every waking moment she had been in his thoughts, and she’d claimed it was the same for her. He would have done anything for her.

Some people had encouraged them, some people had made half-hearted attempts to help him keep his feet on the ground – at least when it came to his magical studies. The trouble was, there was no reason for either his mother or Beriya’s family to disapprove of the pairing. And it turned out that he was the sort who became so entranced when in love that no amount of sympathy or stern lectures, not even from Lord Rothen, who he respected and loved like a favourite grandfather, could keep him anchored in reality. Everyone had decided to wait until he recovered his mind enough to concentrate on something other than Beriya, then help him catch up with his training.

Then her cousin had discovered them in bed together and her family had insisted that the two of them marry as soon as possible. It did not matter that he, as a magician, could prevent Beriya becoming pregnant. If they did not marry, she would be regarded as “spoiled” to any future suitor.

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.