The Ambassador''s Mission

  “It’s been a wild few weeks,” Cery replied.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me pointing out you’ve got a little off track.”

  Cery nodded. “It still may turn out that the three are the same person. I guess we’ll find out once we’ve caught her.”

  “If you can get the truth out of her.”

  Cery opened his mouth to remind Skellin that black magicians were able to read the minds of unwilling subjects, then thought better of it. No point giving away that nugget of information until he had to. “Are you interested in helping us find her?”

  The other Thief pursed his lips as he considered, then he nodded. “Of course I am. If she turns out to be a rogue magician at least I’ll have had the chance to make a few friends in the Guild. If she turns out to be the Thief Hunter it will be a boon to us all.” He rubbed his hands together. “So tell me: where did you last see her?”

  “We saw a woman coming out of the pawn-dealer’s shop that looked like her, so I sent Gol after her.” As Cery described the basement the woman had used, and the underground tunnel leading away from it, Skellin frowned.

  “I didn’t know there were passages there,” he said. “The rebuilding was supposed to have destroyed them. But I guess if you have magic it would be easy and fast to build yourself a new one.”

  “I’m a little behind on the borders. Whose territory is it currently part of?”

  Skellin grimaced. “Mine, actually.” He met Cery’s surprised gaze, then smiled crookedly. “Do you know what’s going on in every corner of yours at all times?”

  Cery shook his head. “Probably not. I don’t have many areas where so much rebuilding has gone on, either. One of the other shopkeepers said she’d been seen in the nearby market, buying herbs.”

  “I’ll check it out,” Skellin told him. “And see if any of my contacts have heard of a woman like you describe lurking around. Sounds like she’d be the sort to stick to herself. Which, of course, always makes a person stand out. If I hear anything I’ll let you know. We can set a trap for her and send for your Guild friends.”

  Cery nodded. “And I’ll let you know if I track her down.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Skellin said, smiling. “I don’t want to miss out on my chance to meet a few Guild magicians.” His eyebrows rose. “One of them wouldn’t happen to be your famous childhood friend, would it?”

  “It might be. But if you want to meet Sonea, you only have to visit one of the hospices.”

  “Then I’d have to pretend to be sick.” Skellin shrugged. “And I don’t think she’d like me taking the place of someone who needed her help.”

  “No. Probably not. So you never get sick?”

  “Never.”

  “Lucky you.”

  Skellin grinned. “It’s been pleasant talking to you again, Ceryni of Northside. I hope we will meet again soon, and that I have good news for you.”

  Cery nodded. “Looking forward to it. Safe journey home.”

  “You, too.”

  The other Thief turned to his bodyguard and strode away. Stepping out from the shelter, Cery drew his collar in close to keep out the rain and walked over to Gol. The big man said nothing at first, falling into step beside Cery as they headed back. Then, when Sunny House was far behind them, he asked how the meeting had gone. Cery went over the details.

  “I didn’t know Skellin’s territory stretched that far,” Gol interrupted.

  “Neither did I,” Cery replied. “It’s been too long since we found out where the boundaries were.”

  “I can find out for you.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Gol chuckled. “Of course you were.”

  Why hasn’t he used the ring?

  Sonea rose from her chair and paced to the window. Sliding across the paper screen, she stared out over the Guild and sighed. Perhaps Lorkin hadn’t found the blood ring among his possessions. Perhaps it was still at the Guild House in Arvice, deep in his travelling chest.

  That thought left her uneasy. With Dannyl and Lorkin both absent from the Guild House, was it possible a snooping slave might find the ring? If it fell into the wrong hands … she shuddered. One of the Sachakan Ichani who had invaded Kyralia twenty years ago had caught Rothen and made a gem from his blood, then used it to send Rothen mental images of all his victims. If Lorkin’s abductor found the ring and used it to send her images of her son being tortured …

  Her heart froze. I don’t think I could bear it. I’d agree to their demands, no matter what they were. Rothen is right. It would make the situation worse if I were there. I only hope, if they find the ring, they realise the maker is too far away for it to be effective as a tool of persuasion.

  She paced away from the window, circling the room. Her shift at the hospice wouldn’t begin for another few hours. The Healers there had grown bolder since offering to conceal her absence if she needed to venture into the city. They had grown almost annoyingly protective of her, pestering her with questions about how much sleep she was getting if she arrived early for a shift or stayed later.

  But if Cery finds the rogue, it’ll be easier and faster for him to contact me at the hospice. I wish he would contact me. Chasing after this woman would at least keep me busy enough to stop fruitlessly worrying about Lorkin for a while.

  At once she felt the deep pit of anxiety in her stomach open up and thoughts of what might happen to her son threatened to spill out. She forced her mind elsewhere. The rogue, she thought. Think about the rogue.

  It had been only a few days since their failed attempt to catch the woman, but it felt like far longer. She considered the passage entrance they’d found. If the woman had access to the Thieves’ Road did that mean she had links to a Thief? It would have done once, but the old rules and restrictions were no longer in place in Imardin’s underworld.

  Another possibility disturbed her. If the woman had access to the Thieves’ Road, did she know about the tunnels under the Guild?

  A knock at the main door interrupted Sonea’s thoughts. She rose and hurried toward it. Perhaps it was Rothen. Maybe he had news of Lorkin. Even if it were someone else, at least they’d provide some distraction from her thoughts. A small twist and push of magic unlatched the door and swung it inward.

  Regin stood outside. He inclined his head politely.

  “Black Magician Sonea,” he said.

  “Lord Regin.” She hoped her disappointment didn’t show in her face.

  “Have you heard anything?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  “No.”

  He nodded and looked away. It struck her then that it was unexpectedly considerate of him to stop by and enquire about Lorkin, and she felt guilty for the hostility she felt toward him. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he continued on without realising she had been about to speak.

  “I’ve made some enquiries and they’ve led to a few small ideas,” he said, then shrugged and looked at her. “Probably not worth the trouble and they may clash with your friend’s plans, but I thought I should share them with you.”

  My friend’s plans? Suddenly Sonea understood. He was not talking about Lorkin, but about Cery and the hunt for the rogue. She shook her head. Of course, he doesn’t even know about Lorkin. I’m such a fool …

  “No?” Regin took a step back, seeing her shake her head. “I can come back another time if it is more convenient.”

  “Yes – come in. I’d like to hear your ideas,” she told him, beckoning and moving aside. He looked at her questioningly, then smiled faintly and stepped past her into her main room. She gestured to the chairs, inviting him to sit down, then closed the door with magic.

  “Sumi?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Thank you.” He watched her move to a side-board where she kept a tray containing the sumi-making utensils. “I thought you didn’t like sumi.”

  “I don’t, but it’s growing on me. Raka makes me a bit edgy these days. Tell me about your ideas.”

  As he beg
an explaining, she carried the tray to the chairs and started making the hot drink. She forced herself to listen. He had met with a few of the magicians he suspected of having links to underworld traders, having befriended them a few months earlier in order to gain information for the Hearing.

  Regin grimaced. “They were quite pleased about the result of the Hearing. Changing the ban from associating with criminals to working for them means they can help out their lowlife friends without censure – so long as they don’t get paid for it in any obvious way.” He sighed. “They’re quite pleased with us, which at least has the advantage that they’re still happy to talk to me. And to complain about a certain foreign magician receiving money in exchange for using magic.”

  “Foreign, eh?” Sonea handed him a cup. “Cery said the rogue is foreign.”

  “Yes.” Regin’s expression became thoughtful, his head tilting slightly as he considered her. “The law against anyone outside the Guild learning and practising magic isn’t always a practical one. It has worked only because the Allied Lands all agreed to it. But what of magicians from other lands? If they set foot on Allied soil and happen to use magic, they immediately break a law. That hardly seems fair.”

  “Or practical,” Sonea agreed. “The king and Higher Magicians have been discussing this for years now. Of course, we are hoping that Sachaka will eventually join the Allied Lands and their magicians will become members of the Guild and bound by our laws. Achieving the first may be difficult, since they’d have to give up slavery. The second, in comparison, seems impossible.”

  “The other alternative is to change the law.”

  “I doubt the Guild would want to relinquish its control of magicians, especially foreign ones.”

  “They’ve only ever been concerned with controlling those living in the Allied Lands,” Regin said. “But visitors from other lands might be allowed to enter them without the obligation to join the Guild.”

  “With some time restriction to their visit, I hope.”

  “Of course. And no trading of magic for profit.”

  Sonea smiled. “Can’t have the Guild getting any poorer.”

  Regin chuckled. “If the reactions of my magician friends with dubious connections are anything to go by, no foreign magician would gain permission to trade for long.”

  “Do they know where this foreign magician is?”

  He shook his head. “I could set them digging for information, if you think it won’t clash with Cery’s plans.”

  She sipped her cup of sumi and considered, then nodded. “I’ll ask him. In the meantime it won’t hurt if they keep their ears open and pass anything on to you.”

  Regin grimaced and set down his empty cup. “It’ll only hurt my sense of good taste. They’re hardly the sort of company I like to keep. Their idea of entertainment is …” His nose wrinkled. “Crude.”

  Sonea kept her expression neutral. Regin had always been a snob. But then, there were plenty of magicians from the Houses, and not just the lower classes, whose liking for intoxication, whores and gambling were well known and disapproved of. Like some of Lorkin’s friends, it seems, she thought, remembering the young magicians found in a playhouse. Maybe Lorkin is better off away from Imardin.

  Then the whole painful truth about his adventures in Sachaka flooded back, and she winced. Rising, she moved the sumi utensils and empty cups back to the side table.

  “Hopefully Cery will find her soon, and you won’t have to deal with them,” she said. Turning back to Regin, she was relieved to see he’d taken the hint and risen to his feet. “Thank you for coming by.”

  He inclined his head. “Thank you for hearing me out. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any further information.” He turned to the door and, as she opened it with magic, walked out.

  She closed the door, leaned on the back of a chair and sighed. A few minutes’ distraction, at least. Is it too soon to go to the hospice? She looked at the mechanical timepiece that Rothen had given her last year. Yes.

  Sighing again, she went back to pacing the room and worrying about her son.

  CHAPTER 22

  A REUNION

  After one night at the old Ashaki’s home, Achati and Dannyl had travelled north-west for half of a day, then stopped at the estate of Achati’s cousin, Ashaki Tanucha. Though not much younger than the previous host, Tanucha was clearly a far wealthier and more sociable man. His much younger wife, in her middle years, only appeared at dinner and was otherwise busy looking after their seven children, including five boys.

  “Seven! I know it’s more a city man’s viewpoint, but it seems a touch irresponsible,” Achati said to Dannyl quietly when they retired to the guest rooms after dinner. “Only one can inherit. He must find occupation for the rest. The daughters will be married as best can be arranged, of course. But the sons …” He sighed. “Landless and dependent on their brother, as will be their sons – if they can attract wives at all.” He shook his head. “This is how Ichani come to be.”

  “They rebel against their brothers?”

  “Against the whole country. It is better that younger sons are not trained in magic, but it is rare for a parent who loves his child to withhold that knowledge, since it means the younger son will have such low status.”

  “Younger sons are more likely to become magicians in Kyralia,” Dannyl told him. “Magicians are not supposed to involve themselves in politics, and it’s considered better if the son destined to become the head of the family is the one with political influence.”

  Achati nodded thoughtfully. “I think I like your way better. It gives power to both older and younger sons.”

  They spent the next day riding around Tanucha’s estate, and the evening in eating and talking. Afterwards Achati and Dannyl chatted late into the night. The next day they slept late, then explored Tanucha’s library, which was disappointingly small and neglected. Though the rest was welcome, Dannyl could not relax. When they retired to the guest rooms for the second night he asked Achati when they would be moving on.

  “That depends on the Traitors, doesn’t it?” Achati replied as he reclined on the pillows in the central room.

  “Surely we’re not going to wait around for them to deliver Lorkin and Tyvara to us?” Dannyl said, sitting down on one of the stools. He could not get used to lying about on the floor as the Sachakans did.

  “Why not? If we keep moving they may not know where to find us. Or we may end up travelling in the wrong direction – away from those who are bringing them to us.”

  Dannyl frowned. “I’m not sure why, but I can’t picture these Traitors turning up at the front gate of Tanucha’s estate with Lorkin and Tyvara in chains. They wouldn’t reveal themselves like that.”

  “Then how do you think they’ll do it?”

  Dannyl considered. “If I were them … I’d lead us to Lorkin and Tyvara. I’d leave us clues or directions – as they have already – so that we will eventually cross paths with the pair.”

  “Have they left us any clues or directions lately?”

  “No,” Dannyl admitted. “But they haven’t told us to stay put, either.”

  Achati laughed. “I am growing very fond of you, Ambassador Dannyl. You have a unique mind.” He turned to one of his slaves, a handsome young man who attended to most of his needs, while the other slave’s role appeared to be to do heavy work and drive the carriage. “Get us some more water, Varn.” The slave picked up a pitcher and hurried away.

  “Of course, telling us that they want us to find Lorkin could still be a decoy,” Dannyl said.

  “So if it was, then where would we go next?”

  Dannyl shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know. If the Traitors did want the girl and Lorkin to evade us, where would they take them?”

  “To their mountain home.”

  “And which direction has the pair been heading?”

  “The mountains.”

  “Presumably they are ahead of us.” Dannyl looked up at Achati. “That is th
e direction I would go.”

  Achati nodded, then raised an eyebrow in warning. “We don’t know where their home is,” he reminded Dannyl. “Only that it is in the mountains.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that. Have you ever used trackers?”

  “Occasionally. When we had a confirmed Traitor to follow.”

  “And it failed because?”

  “The tracks always stop.” Achati shrugged. “The Traitors are not fools. They know how to erase signs of their passing. Which is not hard when your land is mostly bare rock and you can levitate.”

  Dannyl frowned, then shook his head. “If the Traitors wanted us to stop and stay put, or change direction, they’d have let us know.”

  “This whole journey and all the clues we’ve followed could have been a ruse,” Achati pointed out. “Designed to keep us busy and heading in the wrong direction.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter if we keep going. They’ve already made fools of us. But if there’s a chance they haven’t, and we’re on the right track, then I’m willing to risk being made a slightly bigger fool by continuing toward the mountains. It’s worth it, for the chance we’ll find Lorkin.”

  Achati regarded Dannyl thoughtfully, then nodded. The slave returned and handed him the pitcher. “Then we’ll leave. Will the morning be soon enough?” He refilled his goblet but paused to wait for Dannyl’s answer.

  Dannyl looked at the man, noting signs of reluctance. I shouldn’t push him too far, he thought. He nodded. “Of course. But early in the morning would be best.”

  Achati sighed, nodded, then drained his goblet. “I’ll send a slave to inform Tanucha we’ll be moving on, and request some supplies for the journey. There are fewer estates out by the mountains, and they don’t tend to be that prosperous. We’ll also need some magical support. I’ll contact the king and ask him to send some locals to help us.” With a grunt, he rose to his feet. “Don’t wait for me. Go to bed. This could take some time.”

  Magical support. Contacting the king. Dannyl felt a twinge of apprehension. He really does think these Traitors are dangerous.