“Is it Cery?” Dorrien’s eyes were afire with interest. Alina’s were smouldering with anger and worry. The girls’ eyes were wide with curiosity.
Sonea shook her head in exasperation. “As if I’d tell you right here, in front of the University. You had better learn to be a bit more subtle than that, if you’re going to be of any use to me.”
He smiled at her teasing tone. “Very well, I’ll let you have all the fun tonight. But you’d better not leave me out next time.”
The crunch of hooves and carriage wheels sounded in the direction of the stables. Sonea started toward the sound. “I’ll see you all tomorrow,” she tossed over her shoulder.
The driver of the carriage, seeing her haste, urged the horses to a greater speed, then drew them to a halt as he reached her. She told him the destination and hauled herself inside the cabin.
During the journey, she considered Alina’s badly concealed hostility toward her.
Alina had visited the Guild a few times before. The first time she had been a shy young woman whose attention was so fixed on Dorrien that she possibly hadn’t even noticed Sonea. The next time she had been so occupied with a tiny baby and a young child that Sonea had not seen her once. Another time, Sonea had been too caught up in treating a seasonal bout of fevers at the hospices to see Dorrien or his wife.
The carriage slowed, then turned into the hospice entrance. Sonea hurried out of the carriage and into the building, greeting Healers and hospice helpers. Healer Nikea, the leader of the Healers who had helped Sonea catch Lorandra, led Sonea into the storeroom.
“Staying here or going out?” Nikea asked.
“Out,” Sonea replied. “But no disguise,” she added as the young woman headed toward the box containing Sonea’s hospice worker garb. “Just something plain to put on top.”
Nikea nodded and disappeared down the dim back of the room. She came back carrying a garment with sleeves.
“Here,” she said. “Cloaks are regarded as being a bit old-fashioned on the streets. These are more popular.”
It was a coat of surprisingly light material. Sonea shrugged into it. Though tailored like an ordinary coat to just below the bust, it flared out from there. The hem brushed the floor. “It’s a bit long for me.”
“That’s how they wear them. It only buttons to the thigh, so the fronts open up when you step. People will see your robes, but they’ll assume it’s a skirt.”
Sonea shrugged. “I don’t want them to recognise me until I’m right in front of them.”
“Then this will do just fine.” Nikea smiled, then checked that the corridor was clear of anyone but Healers before waving Sonea through the door.
Soon Sonea was walking through Northside. She slowed her pace. The Pachi Tree was not far away and she did not want to arrive too early. A block away from the bolhouse, one of Cery’s trusted workers stepped out of a doorway and shoved a basket in front of her.
“Signal is for the screen in the top right window to slide open,” the man said, drawing out a brilliant-yellow glass bottle and holding it up to her nose. A sickly sweet smell assaulted her senses.
“And then?” she asked, waving the perfume away.
“Go in. Straight up the left-hand stairs to the third floor. Last door on the right.” He stoppered the bottle and quickly lifted another one, this time a pale purple. The scent was overpoweringly musky. She winced.
“Left stairs. Third floor. Last on right,” she repeated.
“Good. My wife sells these. Some she makes herself; some she buys at the markets.”
The third bottle was black. The contents smelled of bark and earth, which was surprisingly pleasant.
“You like that one,” he said, his eyebrows rising.
“Yes, but I can’t imagine wearing it.”
“You wear perfume often?”
“Actually … not at all.”
“Well, try this one – it’s new.”
The next bottle was squat and a deep blue. The scent was a crisp, light one that reminded her of a sea breeze – but not in a fishy or rotten weed way – or the fresh smell of the air after a storm.
“That’s … interesting.”
“You don’t have to wear it,” he told her. “You can just put a few drops on a cloth and let it scent a room.”
She found herself reaching for her money bag. “How much?”
He named a price. She didn’t bother to haggle, as a movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention to the window he’d pointed out, and the screen was sliding open.
He handed her the bottle, smiling and bobbing in a display of gratitude as he backed away. She nodded to him once, then strode on to the bolhouse, slipping the stoppered bottle into one of the inside pockets of the voluminous coat.
Several patrons looked around as she entered, and it was obvious that they’d noted she wasn’t the usual sort of visitor. She headed for a narrow wooden stair built against the left wall of the room. It was steep, and soon she had reached the third floor. Two men stood in the corridor. They eyed her suspiciously. The door to the last room on the right was open, and she could hear voices. One was Cery’s. Raised in anger.
Whatever confrontation Cery and Anyi had arranged, it was taking place now.
The two men stepped forward to block her path. She pushed them away with magic. As soon as they comprehended that the force they’d encountered was magical, they backed away from her hastily. One shouted out a warning.
A man peered out of the doorway of the last room and saw her. A heartbeat later, three people ran out of the room and bolted down the stairs at the end of the corridor. One was Anyi, she saw. Realising she had arrived too late to prevent the attack on Cery, she hurried to the doorway and looked inside the room.
Cery and Gol stood at the far side of the small room, knives in hands, but smiling and unharmed. She sighed with relief.
“Looks like I arrived just in time,” she said, stepping inside and closing the door.
Cery smiled. “It was perfect timing,” he said. “Thanks.”
“The least I could do,” she replied. “So, do you want to stay here or make yourself scarce?”
He glanced at Gol, who was looking a little pale and very relieved. “I think we had better move on. Would you like to come with us?”
“Would I?” she asked in reply.
Cery grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t take you any place you won’t want anyone to see you in.” He tapped a foot and a trapdoor sprang up from the floor beside him.
Cery took a step toward the trapdoor, then paused and looked back at her appraisingly. “By the way,” he said. “Nice coat.”
CHAPTER 10
SECRETS SHARED
