flattened himself to the ground and slithered through. Sonea followed and found herself in a dark passageway. As Harrin helped her to her feet and pulled her to one side, Cery slid through the opening. The grille closed silently, suggesting a regular oiling of the hinges.
'Are you sure about this?' Harrin whispered.
'The Thieves will be too busy trying to stop the magicians from finding their stuff to worry about us,' Cery told him. 'Besides, we won't be down here long. Keep your hand on my shoulder, Sonea.'
She obeyed, taking hold of his coat. Harrin's hand rested firmly on her shoulder. As they started down the passage she stared into the darkness ahead, heart racing.
From Harrin's question, she knew they had entered the Thieves' Road.
Using the underground network of tunnels without prior approval was forbidden, and she had heard frightening stories of the punishment the Thieves dealt out to those who trespassed.
For as long as she could remember, people had jokingly called Cery a friend of the Thieves. There had always been a hint of both fear and respect in their teasing. His father had been a smuggler, she knew, so it was possible that Cery had inherited privileges and contacts. She had seen no proof, however, and had always suspected he had encouraged speculation to keep his place of importance as Harrin's second in the gang. For all she knew, he had no connection to the Thieves at all and she was hurrying to her death.
Better to chance a meeting with the Thieves than face certain death above ground. At least the Thieves weren't searching for her.
The way darkened even further until Sonea could see nothing but varying shades of blackness, then it gradually lightened again as they approached another grille. Cery turned into another passage, then changed direction into the total darkness of a side passage. They continued on for several turns before Cery stopped.
'They should have been here already,' Cery murmured to Harrin. 'We'll stay long enough to buy something, then move on. You should get the others and make sure they haven't told anyone about Sonea. People might think they can get something out of us by threatening to tell the magicians where we are.'
'I'll round 'em up,' Harrin assured him. 'Find out if they talked and tell them to keep their mugs shut.'
'Good,' Cery replied. 'Now we're here to buy some iker powder, that's all.'
Faint sounds echoed in the dark, then a door opened, and they stepped out into bright daylight - and a pen filled with rassook.
At the sight of invaders, the birds lifted their tiny, useless wings and screeched loudly. The sound bounced off the four walls of a small courtyard. A woman appeared in a nearby doorway. Seeing Sonea and Harrin in her pen, her face creased into a scowl.
'Hai! Who're you?'
Sonea turned to Cery, and found him squatting behind her, running his hand over the dusty ground. He rose and grinned at the woman.
'Come to pay you a visit, Laria,' he said.
The woman peered down at him. Her scowl vanished and was replaced by a wrinkly smile. 'Ceryni! Always good to see you. These your friends? Welcome! Welcome! Come in my house and have some raka.'
'How's trade?' Cery asked as they stepped out of the pen and followed Laria through the door into a tiny room. A narrow bed filled one half of the room, and a stove and table took up most of the rest.
Her brow creased. 'Busy day. Had some visitors less than an hour ago. Very nosy they were.'
'Robed visitors?' Cery asked.
She nodded. 'Scared me witless, they did. Looked everywhere, but didn't see anything, if you know what I mean. The guards did, though. I'm sure they'll be back, but when they do there'll be nothing to find.' She chuckled. 'Too late then.' She paused as she set water boiling on the stove. 'What you here for, then?'
'The usual.'
A wicked gleam entered Laria's eyes. 'Planning a few late nights, then? How much you offering?'
He smiled. 'You owe me a favor, if I remember.'
The woman pursed her lips, her sharp eyes narrowing. 'Stay there.'
She disappeared out the door. With a sigh, Cery dropped down onto the bed, which creaked loudly. 'Relax, Sonea,' he told her. 'They've been here. They won't look again.'
She nodded. Her heart was still racing and her stomach was uneasy. Taking a deep breath, she let herself lean back against the wall. As the water boiled Cery helped himself to a jar of dark powder and heaped spoonfuls into the cups Laria had set out. A reassuringly familiar pungent aroma filled the room.
'Guess we know for sure, Sonea,' Harrin said as Cery handed him a cup.
She frowned. 'Know what?'
'What you did must've been magic.' He grinned. 'They wouldn't be searching if they didn't think it was, would they?'
* * *
With an impatient gesture, Dannyl banished the moisture from his robes. Puffs of steam billowed from the cloth. The guards shied away, then, as an icy gust of wind swept away the mist, the four men returned to their places.
They walked in formation - two beside him, two behind. A ridiculous precaution. The dwells weren't stupid enough to attack them. Besides, if they did, Dannyl knew it would be the guards who would look to him for protection.
Catching a pensive glance from one of the men, Dannyl felt a twinge of guilt. At the beginning of the day, they had been nervous and deferential. Knowing he would have to put up with this for the rest of the day, Dannyl had made an effort to be approachable and friendly.
To them this was like a holiday - infinitely more entertaining than standing at one of the gates for hours on end or patrolling the city streets. Despite their eagerness to break into smuggler's stores and whorehouses, they hadn't been much help in the search. He didn't need anybody to force locked doors or open shipping boxes, and the slum dwellers had been cooperative, even if reluctantly.
Dannyl sighed. He'd seen enough to know that many of these people were well accustomed to hiding what they didn't want found. He had also seen many smothered smiles on the faces that watched him. What chance did a mere hundred magicians have of finding one ordinary-looking girl amongst thousands of slum dwellers?
None at all. Dannyl clenched his jaw as he remembered Lord Balkan's words from the previous evening.
He snorted.
A pungent stench filled Dannyl's nostrils. He glared at the sewage-choked gutter. The people standing beside it shrank away hastily. With an effort, he made himself take a deep breath and school his expression.
He did not like to frighten people. Impress them? Yes. Inspire awe? Even better. But not terrify. It disturbed him how these people always shied off the road when he approached, then stared at him as he passed. The children were bolder, following him around, but quick to run away if he looked at them. Men and women, old and young, regarded him warily. All looked hard and cunning. He wondered how many worked for the Thieves ...
Dannyl stopped.
The guards skidded to a halt and looked at him questioningly. He ignored them.
If the stories were true, the Thieves knew more about the slums than anyone else. Did they know the location of this girl? If they didn't could they find her? Would they be willing to help the Guild? Perhaps, if the rewards were attractive ...
How would the other magicians react if he suggested bargaining with the Thieves?
They'd be horrified. Outraged.
He looked at the shallow, stinking trench that served as a gutter. The magicians might look more favorably on the idea after a few days of roaming through the slums. Which meant that the longer he waited before proposing it, the better his chances of gaining their approval.
Yet, every hour that passed gave the girl more time to hide herself. Dannyl pursed his lips. It wouldn't hurt to see if the Thieves were willing to bargain
