steaming raka. “And we’ll take care of you.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You and Regin?”
He nodded. “I told you: he’s matured into a sensible young man.”
“
“Even so,” Rothen replied with a chuckle. “He’s improved a great deal from the novice you thrashed in the Arena.”
Sonea looked away. “He’d have to, wouldn’t he? Couldn’t have got much worse.” She gave him a searching look. “Can we trust him, do you think?”
He met her eyes, his expression serious. “I believe so. He has always valued the integrity of his House and family, and the Guild. It was the source of his arrogance as a young man and is now his motivation as an adult. It bothers him that so much lawlessness has crept in to all those things. This is another way he can help set things to right. He’s sensible enough to realise the best way is for us to do it together, in secret. The Guild may not make a mess of finding the rogue, but there’s a chance they will. We can’t take that chance.”
“You’re probably right.” Sonea grimaced. “And you had better be right about Regin, because if he wants to make my life unpleasant he certainly has the means to do it now.”
The Black Tub bathhouse wasn’t as clean as Cery would have liked. It stank of mould and the cheap perfume meant to mask the odour, and the gowns he and Gol had been given bore some interesting repairs and stains. But the place was the only establishment within sight of the pawnshop that they could plausibly linger in, so it needed investigation.
They had been led to a changing room and left there. It was on the first floor, with cheap undecorated window screens hiding the customers from the street. After changing into the gowns, Gol had slipped out of the room to investigate those next to it and Cery had moved a chair to one of the windows. Cery slid the screen open and smiled in satisfaction as he saw that the pawnshop was within view.
The door opened again, but it was only Gol returning.
“What do you think?”
“There’s nobody in the rooms around us, but I can’t vouch for upstairs. We can talk, but quietly.” Then he grimaced. “It’s a bit run down.”
“And the service is slow,” Cery agreed. “Probably from lack of staff.” He indicated the window. “But the view is good.”
Gol moved closer and peered outside. “It sure is.”
“We should take it in turns. One watching while the other scrubs up.”
The big man grimaced. “The water better not be as bad as this place smells.” He moved another chair and sat down. “Did our friend say anything about how she intended to do her business?”
Cery shook his head. Sonea’s message had been cryptic, saying only that she would be dealing with the matter he had drawn her attention to, thanking him for the information and telling him to send any further news to the hospice.
A knock came from the door. Cery slid closed the screen back across the window.
“Come in,” he called.
The same thin young woman who had led them to the changing room opened the door and stepped inside. She did not meet their eyes.
“The bath is nearly ready. Would you like it warm or hot?”
“Hot,” Cery replied.
“Would you like it scented? We have—”
“No,” Gol interrupted firmly.
“Do you have a little salt?” Cery asked. He’d heard a salt bath was good for sore muscles, and he was still aching from the practice knife-fight bout he’d had that morning. It was also good for cleaning bad water, too.
“We do.” She named a price that raised Gol’s eyebrows.
“We’ll have it,” Cery told her.
The girl nodded politely and left the room. Turning to the window, Cery opened the screen again and glanced outside. The street was busier now.
“Should we convince Makkin the Buyer to help us?” Gol asked. “He’s already scared of her so it won’t make her suspicious if he acts a bit nervous.”
“He’s the sort that’ll cooperate with whoever he’s most scared of,” Cery replied. “If he knows she has magic he’ll be more scared of her than us.”
“She sent him out of the room before she opened the safe. That suggests to me he doesn’t know she has magic.”
“Yes, but...”
Gol hissed. Cery looked at the man and found him staring out of the window.
“What?”
“Is that her? In front of Makkin’s shop.”
Cery spun back to the window. A stooped woman had stopped in front of the shop. Her hair was streaked with grey. For a moment Cery was sure Gol was mistaken – so much so that he was about to tease him – then the woman turned her head to survey the street. He felt a shiver of recognition.
He looked at Gol. Gol stared at him. Then they both looked down at the wraps they were wearing.
“I’ll go,” Gol said. “You watch.” He leapt over to the pile of clothes he’d removed and hastily began to dress. Cery turned back to the window and watched as the woman entered the shop.
His heart was hammering. He felt every muscle in his body slowly tense, and counted every breath.
“She still in there?”
“Yes,” Cery replied. “Whatever you do, don’t let her see you’re following her. Even if you have to pay someone to—”
“I know, I know,” Gol said impatiently. Cery heard him open the door. At the same time he saw the door to the shop open and the woman stepped out.
“She’s leaving,” he said.
Gol didn’t reply. Cery turned to find the big man gone and the door swinging open. He looked back down into the street and caught a glimpse of the woman just before she moved out of view. A moment later Gol appeared. Cery breathed a sigh of relief as his friend and bodyguard headed in the same direction, his steps confident.
“Um... sorry for the wait.”
He turned to find the bathhouse girl standing in the doorway. Her eyes shifted from him to the window screen then to the floor. Cery closed the screen and stood up.
“The bath is ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good. My friend had to leave. Take me to the bath.”
Her shoulders drooped at the loss of a customer, then she gestured for him to follow and led him out of the room.
Chapter 18
The Traitor
As the slave whimpered, his head squeezed between the large hands of Ashaki Tikako, Dannyl couldn’t help wincing. Though Dannyl had never had his mind read by a black magician, if the reaction of this man’s slaves was
