The Ambassador's Mission

  “So what sorts of magic do you learn at the University?”

  “At first a range of things,” he told her. “Magic, of course, but also non-magical studies like history and strategy. Most of us turn out to be better at something, and eventually we get to choose which of the three disciplines we’ll follow: Healing, Warrior Studies or Alchemy.”

  “What did you choose?”

  “Alchemy. You can tell which of us are Alchemists because we wear purple. Healers wear green and Warriors wear red.”

  Chari frowned. “What do Alchemists do?”

  “Everything that Healers and Warriors don’t do,” Lorkin explained. “Mainly it involves magic but sometimes not. Ambassador Dannyl, the magician I came here with and am supposed to be assisting, is a historian, which doesn’t involve magic at all.”

  “Can you choose two disciplines? Be an Alchemist and a Warrior – or an Alchemist and a Healer? Or—”

  “We already know this, Chari,” Tyvara interrupted.

  Lorkin turned to regard her. She looked at him apologetically. “We’re taught about the Guild along with the culture of many other lands during our training,” she told him.

  “Yes, but I didn’t pay much attention at the time,” Chari replied. “It’s so much more interesting when it comes from an actual Kyralian magician.”

  Lorkin turned back to find her looking at him expectantly. “You were saying?” she prompted.

  He shook his head. “No, we can’t choose more than one discipline, but we all get a basic education in the three.”

  “So you can Heal?”

  “Yes, but not with the skill and knowledge of a fully trained Healer.”

  Chari opened her mouth to ask another question, but Tyvara cut in before she could speak.

  “You can ask questions in return,” she told Lorkin. “Chari may not be able to answer some of them, but if you let her do all the asking she’ll interrogate you all the way to the mountains.”

  He looked at Tyvara in surprise. Throughout their journey from Arvice she had been reluctant to answer his questions. At his stare, her lips pressed into a thin line and she shifted her gaze to Chari. He turned to look at the other woman. Chari was regarding Tyvara with amusement.

  “Well, then,” she said, turning to Lorkin. “What would you like to know?”

  Though there were hundreds of things he wanted to know about the Traitors and their secret home, and Chari seemed much more receptive to questions, he suspected that Tyvara’s habit of secrecy would soon have her stopping him and Chari talking at all. Was there anything he could safely ask about the Traitors, when so much information about them was secret?

  I definitely shouldn’t ask how they block mind-reading. Though I still suspect it involves a process similar to making a blood gem. Suddenly he remembered the references to a storestone in the records he’d read for Dannyl.

  Was there any risk in mentioning the storestone? It wasn’t as if he knew where to find it, or how to make one, so he wouldn’t be putting a weapon into the Traitor’s hands if he talked about it.

  “Remember how I said that Ambassador Dannyl is a historian?” he asked.

  Chari nodded.

  “He’s writing a history of magic. We’ve both done a bit of research here in Sachaka. Dannyl is more interested in filling the gaps of our history – how the wasteland was created, or when and how Imardin was destroyed and rebuilt. I’m more interested in how old kinds of magic worked.”

  He paused to gauge their reaction. Chari was watching him intently, while Tyvara regarded him with one eyebrow raised, which he took to indicate interest and a little surprise.

  “When I was taking notes for Dannyl I found a reference to an object called a storestone,” he continued, “that was kept in Arvice after the Sachakan War. It was clearly a thing of great power. It was lost a few years after the war – apparently stolen by a Kyralian magician. Do you know anything about it?”

  Chari looked at Tyvara, who shrugged and shook her head.

  “I don’t know about that one, but I know a bit about storestones,” Chari told him. “Anyone would guess from the name that they are stones that store power. Which would be very useful. But they’re rare. So rare that individual stones were once given names and their histories recorded as if they were people. All the ones we’ve heard of were destroyed long ago. It’s probably over a thousand years, probably more, since the last one existed. If this storestone existed just after the Sachakan War, it is the most recent record of one. So you didn’t know about it until recently?”

  He shook his head.

  She looked thoughtful. “Then either the thief hid it much too effectively, or it was broken. You said Imardin was destroyed and rebuilt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Breaking a storestone is supposed to be dangerous. It releases the power within it in an uncontrolled way. Maybe that’s what destroyed Imardin.”

  Lorkin frowned. “I suppose that’s possible.” He considered the idea. I’ve always doubted that the Mad Apprentice could have been powerful enough to cause that much devastation, but what if he had the storestone?

  “We could ask the record keepers at Sanctuary,” Chari said. “About older storestones, that is. I doubt they know anything about Imardin’s history.”

  “Queen Zarala might,” Tyvara said.

  Chari’s eyebrows rose. “I suppose if she lets him into the city, she’ll want to check him out.”

  “She will.” Tyvara eyed him with a strange, smug amusement. “Definitely.”

  Chari chuckled and turned to Lorkin. “Are you sure you want to come to Sanctuary?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tyvara has told you that it’s run by women, hasn’t she? Men can’t go bossing people about. Even magicians like you.”

  He shrugged. “I have no desire to boss anyone about.”

  She smiled. “You’re such a reasonable man. I always thought Kyralians were arrogant and dishonest. I guess you can’t all be the same. Tyvara wouldn’t be taking you there if you were. And it’s so sweet of you to come all this way and risk your life for Tyvara.”

  “Well, she did save my life.”

  “That’s true.” Chari reached out and patted his arm lightly. “Honourable and good-looking. I reckon you’ll do well. My people will change their minds about Kyralians once they meet you.”

  “Yes, in no time we’ll be exchanging gifts and swapping recipes,” Tyvara muttered dryly.

  Lorkin turned to look at her. She met his eyes briefly, then looked away, frowning. She’s not happy about something, he thought. His heart skipped a beat. Does she think Chari is going to betray us?

  “So tell me more about the Guild,” Chari said behind him.

  Tyvara rolled her eyes and sighed. Relief and amusement replaced apprehension. She was simply irritated by Chari’s chatter. Well, I hope that’s it. I wish I could talk to her. They’d not had a private moment together since Chari had found them.

  He felt a stab of frustration. I wish I could talk to many people. Mother and Dannyl for a start. He thought of the blood gem still hidden in the spine of his notebook, tucked into his clothing. He’d had no chance to use it without revealing it to Tyvara. And now Chari was with them, there would be even less opportunity to use it. Perhaps he should have let Tyvara know he had it. But it is my only link to the Guild. If I’m going to chance losing it, I must wait until the risk is unavoidable. And if I’m going to negotiate any sort of trade or alliance between the Guild and Traitors, I’ll need a way to communicate between them.

  In the meantime, he might as well do his best to establish good relations between his country and the Traitors. Turning back to Chari, he smiled.

  “More about the Guild? What would you like to know?”

  CHAPTER 24

  THE ALLIES YOU NEED

  Sunny House was living up to its name. Warm sunlight bathed the garden and ruins, setting the more colourful flowers glowing in a sea of green vegetation. Skellin was waiting
for Cery in the same shelter they had met in last time, his guard standing nearby.

  Gol stopped, as far from the shelter as the other guard was. Cery walked on, resisting the urge to turn and look behind, but not because of his friend and bodyguard. As always, he’d arranged for some of his people to follow and watch, ready to help if he needed them, or warn of approaching danger. He called them his “shadow guard.” Only this time there was a new face among the familiar ones.

  Anyi. She was learning fast. She was quick and agile, and a bit too reckless at times. It had turned out though that the risks she took were more often out of ignorance than foolishness, and she was taking in his and Gol’s instruction with reassuring enthusiasm and intelligence. Ordering her to follow and watch was the safest way to let her feel she was doing the job she wanted, without risking revealing her identity to anyone or putting her in real danger.

  Yet the streets they’d passed through were never completely safe, and he couldn’t help worrying that some stupid thug would try something with her, and it would lead to a fight.

  As Cery reached the shelter, Skellin rose to greet him.

  “What do you have to tell me, friend?” the other Thief asked.

  “Some news I heard the other day.”

  The story of the rot-seller and his foreign, female helper brought a frown to the man’s exotic face. Cery lied about the source of the information, saying that it was a washerwoman who’d overheard the conversation. Better to keep Anyi’s name out of this.

  “Hmm,” was all Skellin said. He looked displeased. Perhaps even angry.

  “I also informed my friend that you would like to meet her,” Cery added. “She agreed to it.”

  Skellin’s gaze lightened and he straightened his shoulders. “Did she?” He rubbed his hands together and smiled. “Well, that’s something to look forward to. As for your rather bad news … I will look into it.” He sighed. “It does not look good, does it? First she is seen in my territory, now she is working for my rot-sellers.”

  “Unless they’re someone else’s rot-sellers.”

  The other Thief’s mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “Which would make it even worse news. I’ll let you know what I find out.” His voice had gained a harder, almost threatening edge. That’s more like what I’d expect from a man with his power and trade, Cery thought.

  Cery nodded. They spoke polite farewells, parted and headed in different directions. After all the effort I have to put into getting here, these meetings always feel too brief. But sitting and chatting to Skellin doesn’t appeal either. I’m not sure why. Probably because I’m always waiting for him to try getting me to sell rot for him.

  Gol joined him and they set off into the city. Sunny House was several streets behind when a figure stepped out of a doorway and walked toward them. Cery tensed, then relaxed as he recognised Anyi, then tensed again as he realised she was disobeying his orders. She wasn’t supposed to approach him until they were back at the hideout.

  Maybe she needs to warn me of something.

  Anyi nodded to him politely, her expression serious, then fell into step beside him.

  “So,” she said, her voice low. “You got a good reason to be working with the King of Rot?”

  Cery glanced at her, amused. “Who calls him that?”

  “Half the city,” she replied.

  “Which half?”

  “The lower half.”

  “I’m from the lower half, so why haven’t I heard of it?”

  She shrugged. “You’re old and out of touch. So. Have you got a good reason?”

  “Yes.”

  They walked in silence for several paces.

  “Because I hate that man,” she added suddenly.

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “We had no rot here until he came along.”

  Cery grimaced wryly. “If he hadn’t brought it, someone else would have.”

  She scowled. “Why don’t you sell it?”

  “I have standards. Pretty low standards, but that’s to be expected. I’m a Thief.”

  “There’s a big difference between what he does and what you do.”

  “You have no idea what I do.”

  “That’s true.” She frowned. “And I’m not in a hurry to find out. But … why don’t you deal in rot?”

  He shrugged. “Rot makes people unreliable. If they lose interest in making a living they don’t want loans. If they can’t work they can’t pay back the loans. If they’re broke, they can’t buy things. If they die they’re no good to anyone. Rot isn’t good for business – unless it is the business. And if it was no worse than bol I’d be lining up to trade in it.”

  Anyi nodded, then let out a long sigh. “It sure does make people unreliable. There was … I had a friend. We worked together, were going to … do things together. My friend helped me out when you told me I had to hide.

  “But we started to run out of money a lot faster than we should have. I knew my friend took rot, only enough to relax and sleep. When it ran out, my friend disappeared off to get more. I went next door to talk to the neighbour’s wife, so I was out when my friend returned. With two thugs. I heard them talking. My so-called ‘friend’ was going to sell me out.”

  Cery cursed. “Did he know why you were hiding?”

  “Yes.”

  “So the thugs know, too.”

  “I guess so.”

  Cery glanced at Gol.

  “They probably wanted to sell Anyi on to someone better positioned to use her against you,” the big man said. “Her boyfriend will have only wanted fast money.”

  “So there are two thugs out there who know too much,” Cery said. He turned to Anyi. “Would you like this former friend killed?”

  She looked at him sharply. “No.”

  He smiled. “Would you mind if I had the thugs killed?”

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “No.”

  “Good, because I would have them killed whether you minded or not, but I’d rather be certain we got the right ones, and that’ll be easier if you can pick them for us.”

  She nodded. Then she looked at him sidelong. “You know, nobody uses that old slum slang any more. ‘Pick’ is so old-fashioned.”

  “I’m an old-fashioned kind of man.” They turned into a wider street, which was full of vehicles and people and noise. He lowered his voice. “Just so you know, the reason for today’s meeting is to find the person who you were hiding from.”

  Anyi paused in scanning the street to glance at him. “Guess that’s a good reason to be talking to the King of Rot. Can I watch when you kill the murderer?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I won’t be killing her. I doubt I could if I tried.”

  “It’s a woman? Why can’t you kill her?” She sent him another quick look, this time full of confusion. He chuckled.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll explain when the time is right.”

  I bet Regin wishes he was here, Sonea thought as the young female Healer was led to the front of the Guildhall. The woman wasn’t one of the Healers who worked at the hospices, so Sonea did not know her well. Lady Vinara had explained that she was from one of the city’s less powerful Houses – a younger daughter sent to the Guild in order to gain prestige, and Healing for the family without charge.

  The Healer had been overheard relating how she had used magic for a smuggler, and, when the information had been reported, she’d been summoned to a Hearing by the Higher Magicians. Rumours claimed that the smuggler was her cousin. It was the first time anyone had been accused of breaking the new rule against magicians working for criminals.

  It’s going to be interesting to see how the Higher Magicians deal with this. Regin will be itching to know what is decided. I expect he’ll pay me a visit tonight, to find out the details.

  She realised the prospect didn’t bother her that much. Though she could never completely relax in Regin’s company, he seemed genuinely concerned about the new rule and
how it affected the welfare of magicians. And, of course, he was keen to find the rogue. But he didn’t drone on about it, like some magicians might, and never outstayed his welcome.

  Because he’s a man who’d prefer to take action than whinge about something.

  She stilled in surprise. Had she just found something admirable in Regin’s character? Surely not.

  Of the rogue, there had been no news. Most nights Sonea worked at the same hospice in Northside, knowing this would make it easier for a messenger from Cery to find her. But no messages had come since he’d visited personally to tell her he was enlisting the help of another Thief.

  Below her, Administrator Osen turned to the Higher Magicians.

  “Lady Talie is charged with breaking the new rule forbidding a magician to be involved in or benefit from criminal activity,” he told them. “We are to decide if this is true and, if so, how she is to be punished.” He turned to look at a pair of magicians standing to one side. “I call on Lord Jawen to speak as witness.”

  One of the pair, a middle-aged Healer, stepped forward. He was frowning and the way he was trying not to look at Lady Talie made it obvious that he was uncomfortable about speaking against her.

  “Please tell us what you heard,” Osen said.

  The man nodded. “A few nights ago I was gathering cures from a storeroom when I heard voices at the rear of the room. One of the voices belonged to Lady Talie. I heard her say, quite clearly, that what was inside some boxes wasn’t legal. Well, that attracted my attention, and I stopped to listen. She went on to say that she didn’t want to know what was in them. That she moved them, Healed a man then went home.” His frown deepened. “And that someone was stupid for thinking something so big and heavy could be moved by one man.”

  “What did you do then?” Osen asked.

  Jawen grimaced. “I left the room and went on working. I needed time to think about what to do. A few hours later I decided I had to tell Lady Vinara what I’d heard.”

  “That is all you overheard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that is all for now.” As the man retreated to his former position, Osen turned to the young Healer. “Lady Talie, please come forward.”