"You want to know the truth." Sonea has learned much since she was but a penniless urchin possessing an awesome untapped ability. She has earned the grudging respect of her fellow novices and a place in the Magicians' Guild. But there is much she wishes she had never learned-what she witnessed, for example, in the underground chamber of the mysterious High Lord Akkarin . . . and the knowledge that the Guild is being observed closely by an ancient fearsome enemy. Still, she dares not ignore the terrifying truths the High Lord would share with her, even though she fears it may be base trickery, a scheme to use her astonishing powers to accomplish his dark aims. For Sonea knows her future is in his hands-and that only in the shadows will she achieve true greatness . . . if she survives.

What is included with this book?

The New copy of this book will include any supplemental materials advertised. Please check the title of the book to determine if it should include any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

The Used, Rental and eBook copies of this book are not guaranteed to include any supplemental materials. Typically, only the book itself is included. This is true even if the title states it includes any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

The High Lord
The Black Magician Trilogy Book 3

Chapter One

The Message

In ancient Kyralian poetry the moon is known as the Eye.When the Eye is wide open, its watchful presence detersevil—or encourages madness in those who do wrong underits gaze. Closed, with only a sliver of white to mark its sleepingpresence, the Eye allows hidden deeds of both good orill to remain unnoticed.

Looking up at the moon, Cery smiled wryly. This phaseof the Eye, a narrow slit, was the one preferred by secretlovers, but he was not hurrying through the shadows of thecity to such a rendezvous. His purpose was of a darker kind.

Whether his deeds were good or ill, however, was difficultfor him to know. The men he hunted deserved their fate, butCery suspected there was a deeper purpose to the work he'dbeen commissioned to do than just reducing the murdersthat had plagued the city for the last few years. He did notknow everything about the whole nasty business—of that hewas sure—but he probably knew more than anyone else inthe city.

As he walked, he considered what he did know. He hadlearned that these murders were not carried out by one man,but by a succession of them. He had also noted that thesemen were of the same race: Sachakan. Most importantly,however, he knew they were magicians.

As far as Cery knew, there were no Sachakans in theGuild.

If the Thieves were aware of any of this, they were keepingtheir knowledge well hidden. He thought back to a meeting of Thieves he had attended two years ago. The leaders ofthe loosely allied underworld groups had been amused byCery's offer to find and stop the killer. Those who askedslyly why Cery hadn't succeeded after so long might be assumingthere was only one murderer, or they might wanthim to think that was all they knew.

Each time Cery dealt with one of the murderers, anotherbegan his grisly work. Unfortunately, this made it appear tothe Thieves that Cery was failing at his task. All he could dowas shrug off their questions, and hope his success in otherunderworld activities made up for it.

From the dark square of a doorway the shape of a largeman emerged. Distant lamplight revealed a grim, familiarface. Gol nodded once, then fell into step beside Cery.

Reaching an intersection of five roads, they approached awedge-shaped building. As they stepped through the opendoors, Cery savored the heavy odor of sweat, bol and cooking.It was early evening and the bolhouse was full. Hemoved to a seat at the counter, where Gol ordered two mugsof bol and a dish of salted crots.

Gol munched his way through half of the beans before hespoke.

"At the back. Flash ring. What you say, son?"

Cery and Gol often pretended to be father and son whenthey did not want their true identities known—which wasmost of the time they spent in public these days. Cery wasonly a few years younger than Gol but, with his small statureand boyish face, he was often mistaken for a youth. Hewaited a few minutes, then let his gaze shift to the back ofthe bolhouse.

Though the room was crowded, it was easy to locate theman Gol had pointed out. His distinctive wide, brownSachakan face stood out among the pale Kyralian ones andhe was watching the crowd carefully. Glancing at the man'sfingers, Cery noted a glint of red in the dull silver of a ring.He looked away.

"What you think?" Gol murmured.

Cery picked up his mug and pretended to gulp a mouthfulof bol. "Too much rub for us, da. Leave him for another."

Grunting in answer, Gol drained his mug and set it down.Cery followed him outside. A few streets from the bolhouse,he reached into his coat, pulled out three copper coins andpressed them into Gol's large hand. The big man sighed andwalked away.

Cery smiled wryly, then stooped and opened a grille setinto a nearby wall. To any stranger, Gol appeared to be completelyunperturbed by any situation. Yet Cery knew thatsigh. Gol was scared—and he had good reason to be. Everyman, woman and child in the slums was in danger whilethese murderers were about.

Cery slipped behind the grille into the passage below.The three coins he'd given Gol would pay three streeturchins to deliver a message—three urchins in case themessage was lost or delayed. The recipients were crafters ofone kind or another, who would pass on the message viacity guard or delivery boy or trained animal. Each man orwoman along the path of the message knew nothing of themeaning behind the objects or passwords they were given.Only the man at the final destination would understandtheir significance.

When he did, the hunt would begin again.

Leaving the classroom, Sonea slowly made her way downthe crowded, noisy main corridor of the University. She usuallypaid little attention to the antics of the other novices, buttoday was different.

A year today since the Challenge, she thought. A wholeyear since I fought Regin in the Arena, and so much haschanged.

Most novices had gathered into groups of two or moreand were walking toward the rear staircase and the Foodhall.A few girls lingered by a classroom door, talking in conspiratorialmurmurs. At the far end of the corridor a teacheremerged from a classroom, followed by two novices carryinglarge boxes.

Sonea watched the faces of the few novices who noticedher. None glared or looked down their noses . . .

Excerpted from The High Lord: The Black Magician Trilogy by Trudi Canavan
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.