Dorrien chuckled. “I guess they don’t have hospices in their homelands.”
“Actually, some of the Allied Lands do,” she told him. “Vin and Lonmar have a few each, and Lan is in the process of opening their own. They were set up either by Healers who were inspired to start hospices elsewhere, or Healers from those lands who wanted to help their own people in the same way as Kyralia does.”
“Not Elyne?”
She shook her head. “Not for lack of trying. The Elyne king won’t allow it. The Elynes still have their guild of non-magical healers, founded long before the Guild, who don’t look fondly on magicians robbing them of their trade. Now, the treatment rooms here are set up much the same way …”
Sonea moved to a door bearing the number she had been told to look for. She knocked softly, and soon afterwards the door opened and the familiar face of one of the Healers from Northside grinned out at them.
“Go on in,” Sylia said, slipping out, waving them inside, then closing the door behind them.
The room was similar to those at the Northside hospice. A table divided it, with a couple of seats for patients and anyone they might have brought with them, and a seat for the Healer on the other side of the table.
Instead of a Healer, Cery was waiting for them. He smiled, but his posture was hunched and tense. His gaze moved from Sonea to Dorrien.
“So this is your new assistant and bodyguard?” he asked.
Sonea snorted softly. “Assistant, yes. As for whether Dorrien is my bodyguard or I his …” She looked at Dorrien, who smiled crookedly. “We’ll have to see how things turn out. Cery, this is Dorrien. Dorrien, this Cery.”
The two men nodded politely.
“Have you been waiting long?” Dorrien asked.
Cery shrugged. “A while. I got here early.”
“Checking the place out?”
“Of course.”
“How’s business?” Sonea asked.
Cery’s smile slipped away, leaving him looking gaunt and tired. “Not good. It is a good thing I’ve stowed plenty away in case of times like these.”
“Will it last?”
He grimaced. “A year at most. I’d be tempted to leave you to it and get out of town earlier if it weren’t for …” He spread his hands.
Cery had received a message saying that Anyi would be visiting a Healer here. They could only hope it had come from his daughter and wasn’t part of a plot to ambush him.
They chatted for several more minutes. She had warned Dorrien not to ask for details about Cery’s business, and thankfully he was following her advice. If he didn’t know about anything he was supposed to report to the Guard, he wasn’t in danger of breaking any laws for the sake of catching Skellin.
A knock at the door brought all three around to face the entrance. Sonea stepped forward and opened the door a crack. She sighed in relief to see Anyi and Sylia waiting. Opening the door, she thanked Sylia and let Anyi in.
Cery rose to his feet, his eyes roving all over his daughter protectively.
“Are you … is everything … is that a bruise?”
“I’m fine,” Anyi told him. “I told Rek that I thought I might have broken my wrist in practice and I’d better get it checked out. An injured guard isn’t as good at her job as an uninjured one.”
“What has he got you guarding?”
She smiled. “His mistress. She seems to think that ‘guard’ means ‘servant’, and I’m having some fun convincing her otherwise.”
Cery sat down again. “So. What news do you have for us?”
Anyi looked around the room, her mouth forming an unconvincing pout. “Isn’t my fine company enough? Haven’t you missed me?”
“You wouldn’t have risked this meeting if you didn’t have news.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You could at least pretend to have missed me.” She crossed her arms. “Well, as it happens, I do have news. I know for sure that Rek has been given tasks to do by Jemmi that were favours for Skellin.”
“Jemmi is a Thief,” Sonea murmured to Dorrien.
“What animal is a Jemmi?” he murmured back.
“The Thieves don’t always adopt animal names now.”
“Ah.”
“How often?” Cery asked his daughter.
“Often enough.” Anyi’s eyes gleamed. “There’s a delivery of roet happening in a few weeks. I can try to find out where. I don’t know if Skellin will be there, though.”
“But Skellin’s men will be?” Dorrien asked.
Anyi nodded.
Dorrien looked at Sonea, his eyes bright with excitement. “So we catch them and you can read their minds and find out where Skellin is.” He frowned. “Wait … that would be breaking the rules for black magicians, wouldn’t it?”
Sonea shook her head. “Osen has given Kallen and I permission to read minds if we need to. But the real problem is: what if Skellin’s men don’t know where Skellin is? We’ll have revealed that Anyi is a spy for nothing.”
“Hmm,” Cery said. He looked at Anyi. “Though I’d rather have you back with me, we should wait until we learn of a meeting that Skellin will definitely go to.”
Anyi shrugged. “I’ll keep my ears open. Something better is bound to come along.”
They discussed strategies and ways to communicate until there was a tap at the door. Sylia reported that it was being noted they were taking a little long for a Healing consultation. Anyi farewelled her father and left. Cery stared at the door after she had gone, then sighed and looked at Sonea.
“Heard anything from Lorkin?”
She winced at the pang of worry that went through her, and shook her head. “But Dannyl sent word that the Traitors might be amenable to carrying messages between us, so I’ve sent him one in case they are.”
“That’s a start,” he said, managing a smile.
She nodded. “I’d better get on with showing Dorrien around. Good to see you Cery. Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” he replied.
After she and Dorrien had left the room, Sylia slipped back in to arrange smuggling Cery out of the hospice. Sonea led Dorrien down the corridor to the storeroom.
“That is one very worried man,” Dorrien said, when he’d checked to ensure they were alone.
“Yes,” Sonea agreed.
“I think of my daughters, and I’m not sure I could send either of them into danger to spy for me.”
“No, but he didn’t exactly send her. She sent herself. She’s quite a determined young woman.”
Dorrien looked thoughtful. “She would have grown up in the harder part of the city, wouldn’t she? And she’d have to grow up tough, being a Thief’s daughter.”
“She didn’t grow up under Cery’s protection. When her mother left him, she took Anyi with her. She was a proud woman, and wouldn’t accept Cery’s help even when they were desperately poor. Anyi grew up fast and tough, but for other reasons.”
“Still, to have lost a wife and children and then watch your only daughter put herself in danger …” He shook
