The Ambassador's Mission

floor.

“I’ll learn,” she said.

“You have a lot to learn,” Cery told her.

“So you’ll take me on as a bodyguard?”

He paused before answering. “I’ll consider it, once you’ve been trained right, and if I think you’re good enough. Either way, you’re working for me now, and that means you must do what I tell you. No arguments. You obey orders, even if you don’t know why.”

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

He walked over to her and handed back the knife. “And Gol’s not old. He’s close to the same age as me.”

Anyi’s eyebrows rose. “If you think that means he’s not old, then you really do need a new bodyguard.”

Chapter 23 New Helpers

Healer Nikea stepped into the examination room as the last patient Sonea had seen left – a woman who was trying, unsuccessfully, to give up roet. Sonea had Healed the woman, but it had made no difference to the cravings.

“There’s something I need to show you,” Nikea said.

“Oh?” Sonea looked up from the notes she had been taking. “What is that?”

“Something,” Nikea said. She smiled, and her eyes widened meaningfully.

Somehow Sonea’s heart managed to skip a beat and then, straight after, sink to her stomach. If Cery had merely sent a message, Nikea would have delivered it. This meaningful look suggested that more than a note had arrived, and Sonea suspected that “something” was Cery.

He knew she didn’t like him coming here. Still, there had to be a good reason for him doing so.

Rising, she stepped out of the room and followed Nikea down the corridor. They entered the non-public part of the hospice. A pair of Healers stood in the hallway, heads close as they talked in whispers. Their eyes were on a storeroom door, but shifted to Sonea as she appeared. They immediately straightened and inclined their heads politely.

“Black Magician Sonea,” they murmured, then hurried away.

Nikea led Sonea to the door they’d found so interesting and opened it. Inside, a familiar figure sat on a short ladder, between rows of shelving filled with bandages and other hospice supplies. He stood up. Sighing, Sonea stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her.

“Cery,” she said. “Is it good news or bad?”

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’m good, thanks for asking. How are you?”

She crossed her arms. “Fine.”

“You seem a bit cranky.”

“It’s the middle of the night, yet for some reason we have as many patients as we get during the day, nothing I try cures roet addiction, there’s a rogue magician loose in the city, and instead of telling the Guild about it I’m risking the little freedom I have by working with a Thief who insists on visiting me in a public place, and my son is still missing in Sachaka. I’m supposed to be in a good mood?”

Cery grimaced. “I guess not. So... no news on Lorkin?”

“No.” She sighed again. “I know you wouldn’t have come here if there wasn’t a good reason, Cery. Just don’t expect me to be all calm and relaxed about it. What’s the news?”

He sat down again. “How do you feel about another Thief helping us find the rogue?”

Sonea stared at him in surprise. “Is it anyone I know?”

“I doubt it. He’s one of the new lot. Faren’s successor. Name is Skellin.”

“He’d have to have a lot to offer, for you to consider it.”

Cery nodded. “He does. He’s one of the most powerful Thieves in the city. He has a particular interest in the Thief Hunter. Asked me a while back if I’d keep him informed if I picked up anything. He knows the rogue may not be the Thief Hunter, but feels it’s worth tracking her down to find out.”

“What does he get out of it?”

He smiled. “He’d like to meet you. Sounds like Faren told him stories, so he’s got a hankering to meet the legend.”

Sonea made a rude noise. “So long as he doesn’t have the same ideas Faren had about how useful I could be to him.”

“I’m sure he does, but he’ll not be expecting you to have them, too.”

“Does he have a better chance of finding the rogue than you?”

Cery grew serious. “She did a favour for a rot-seller that set up shop in my area until I put a stop to it. Skellin controls most of the trade, so I’m hoping that he can trace the—”

“The Thief we’re working with is the main source of roet?” Sonea interrupted.

Cery nodded, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “Yes.”

She turned away. “Oh, that’s just wonderful.”

“Will you accept his help?”

She looked at him. His gaze was hard and challenging. Yet what had he said? “... set up shop in my area until I put a stop to it.” Perhaps he did not like what roet did to people any more than she did. But he had no choice but to work with people like Skellin. “He’s one of the most powerful Thieves in the city.” If the rogue was working for a roet seller then it made sense for her and Cery to trace her through the contacts of the Thief importing it. Then something else occurred to her. Perhaps the rogue was addicted to the drug, and the seller was forcing her to use her magic in support of his criminal activities in order to get it.

Sonea rubbed her temples as she considered. I’m already breaking a whole lot of rules and restrictions. Ironically, this will not make things any worse, as far as the Guild is concerned. It will only feel worse to me.

“Go ahead and recruit him. So long as he realises that meeting the legend does not involve anything more than us both being in the same place once and having a nice chat for a reasonable length of time – and so long as you feel it is necessary to involve him – then I have no argument against it.”

Cery nodded. “I do think we need him. And I’ll make sure he understands you’re not for hire.”

Climbing out of the carriage, Dannyl and Achati turned to take in their surroundings. The road they had been travelling northwards along ended where it met an east- to west-running thoroughfare. A stream ran alongside the new road. Hills surrounded them, rocks jutting out from wild vegetation.

“We’ll wait here,” Achati said.

“How long, do you think?” Dannyl asked.

“An hour, maybe two.”

Achati had arranged for the group of local magicians, who would provide magical support, to meet them at the junction. They were bringing a tracker. He’d explained that, if they got as far as the mountains and had to leave the road, the risk of being attacked by the Traitors would increase dramatically.

The Sachakan turned and spoke to his slaves, instructing them to bring out food for him, Dannyl and themselves. As the two young men obeyed, Dannyl found himself thinking, not for the first time, that Achati treated his slaves well. He almost seemed fond of them.

As they ate the small, flat pastries that they’d been given at the last estate, Dannyl looked at the hills again. His gaze was drawn to the rocky outcrops. He frowned as he noticed how some were more like piles of boulders. In places, these boulders fitted together much too well to be natural.

“Is that a ruin up there?” he asked, turning to Achati.