Free The High Lord by Trudi Canavan Page A

again in the future, and the Guild would be found unprepared. I proposed a secret store of knowledge, to be opened only if the Guild faced certain destruction. The others of my company agreed, for many of my fellows held the same secret fear.
    It was decided that the existence of a secret weapon would be known of by the Head of Warriors only. He would not know its nature, but would pass the location down to his successor. I now finish this record here. Tomorrow I will
    begin a new one. I sincerely hope that nobody will ever open this book and read these words.
    Below this last entry was a note:
    Seventy years later Lord Koril, Head of Warriors, died in a practice bout at the age of twenty-eight. It is likely that he did not have an opportunity to pass on the knowledge of the secret “weapon.”
    Sonea stared at Akkarin’s postscript. Lord Coren had discovered a chest full of books. Was this the secret store of knowledge?
    She sighed and closed the book. The more she learned, the more questions arose. She got to her feet and swayed, realizing belatedly that she had been reading for hours. Yawning, she covered Akkarin’s books with her notes, then changed into her bedclothes, slipped into bed and fell into a sleep filled with nightmarish scenes of power-crazed magicians stalking livestock and villagers.

5
Speculation
    Though he received news of a murder bearing all the indicators he’d been taught to look for, Cery had waited until a week passed since his meeting with Savara before he let her know she had been right. He wanted to see how long she would endure her self-imposed imprisonment in her hired room. When he heard that she had suggested some fighting practice with one of her “guards,” he knew her patience was running out. And curiosity got the better of him when the man admitted to losing every bout.
    He paced his room as he waited for her to arrive. His investigations had revealed little. The owner of the room could only say Savara had started renting it a few days before her visit to Cery. Only two of the city’s weapons sellers recognized her knife as Sachakan. The city’s gutters all claimed, after bribes and other means of ensuring they told the truth, that they had never fenced a weapon like it before. He doubted he would find anyone in the city who could tell him more.
    At a knock on the door he stopped pacing. He returned to his chair and cleared his throat.
    “Come in.”
    She smiled warmly as she entered the room.
Oh, she knows she’s beautiful, and how to use it to get what she wants,
he thought. He kept his expression neutral.
    “Ceryni,” she said.
    “Savara. I hear my tag gave you some sport.”
    A tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Yes, he was energetic, but needed the practice more than I.” She paused. “The others might have proved more challenging.”
    Cery resisted a smile. She had noticed more than one other watcher. Very observant.
    “Too late to find out,” he said, shrugging. “I have given them something else to do.”
    The crease between her brows deepened. “What of the slave? Did he not kill?”
    ” ‘Slave’?” Cery repeated.
    “The man who replaced the last murderer.”
    Interesting.
Slaves owned by whom?
    “He killed, like you said,” Cery confirmed.
    Her eyes flashed with triumph at the news. “Then will you accept my help?”
    “Can you lead us to him?”
    “Yes,” she replied without hesitation.
    “What do you want in return?”
    She moved closer to his desk. “That you say nothing of me to your master.”
    A chill ran over his skin. “My
master?”
    “The one who has ordered you to kill these men,” she said softly.
    She should not know about
him.
She shouldn’t even know that Cery was acting on the orders of another.
    This changed everything. Cery crossed his arms and considered her carefully. Investigating her usefulness without consulting the one who arranged the hunt had seemed like a small risk. Now it appeared to have been greater