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