The Magicians' Guild

Shaking his head, he stood, letting go of her hand.

'No, Sonea. You need someone familiar around. Someone you can trust. I won't leave you alone with them.'

'But you can't become Faren's slave just so I have a friend to talk to. Go back to Harrin and Donia. I'm sure Faren will let you visit now and then.'

He paced to the door, then turned to face her.

'I want to do this, Sonea.' His eyes were bright. 'Everyone's been talking as if I worked for the Thieves as long as I can remember. Now I have a chance to make it real.'

Sonea stared at him. Was this really what he wanted? Would someone as nice as Cery choose to become ... what? A ruthless, money-hoarding murderer? She looked away. That was Jonna's opinion of the Thieves. Cery had always said that the Thieves were about helping and protecting as much as they were involved in smuggling and thievery.

She couldn't - shouldn't - stop him from doing what he had always wanted to do. If the work turned out to be less than he'd hoped, he was smart enough to get out. She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight.

'If it's what you want,' she said. 'Just be careful.'

He shrugged. 'I always am.'

She smiled. 'It will be wonderful to have you dropping by all the time.'

He grinned. 'Nothing would keep me away.'

* * *

The brothel was in the darkest, dirtiest part of the slums. Like most, the lower floor was a bolhouse, and the upstairs rooms were for the prettier girls. All other commerce took place in stalls situated in the back of the building.

As Cery entered he thought of Faren's words. 'He knows most of the faces. He won't know you, though. Pretend you're new at it. Give him a good price for what he's got. Bring the goods back to me.'

Several girls sidled up to him as he crossed the room. They looked pale and tired. A sickly fire which gave off little heat burned in a hearth to one side of the room. A server slouched behind the bar, talking to a pair of male customers. Cery smiled at the girls, looking each one over as if considering, then, as he had been instructed, he approached a plump Elyne girl with a tattoo of a feather on her shoulder.

'Want some fun?' she asked.

'Perhaps later,' he told her. 'I heard you got a room for meeting people.'

Her eyes widened, and she nodded quickly. 'Yes, that's right. Upstairs. Last on the right. I'll take you.'

She took his hand and led him to the stairs. There was a slight tremble in her light grasp. As he climbed the stairs he glanced down and found that many of the girls were watching him, their eyes fearful.

Disturbed, he looked around cautiously as he reached the top of the stairs and started down the corridor. The tattooed girl let go of his hand and waved toward the rooms at the end.

'It's the last door.'

He pressed a coin into her hand, and continued on. Opening the door cautiously, Cery peered inside. The room was tiny, containing only a small table and two chairs. Stepping inside, Cery inspected everything quickly. A few spy holes had been drilled into the walls. He suspected there was a hatch under the worn simba matting on the floor. A small window offered a view of a wall, and little else.

He opened the window and considered the wall outside. The brothel was unusually quiet for such an establishment. A door opened nearby, then footsteps moved down the corridor, drawing nearer. Returning to the table, Cery schooled his face into a wary expression. A man stepped into the doorway.

'You're the gutter?' the man asked in a gravelly voice.

Cery shrugged. 'What I do.'

The man's eyes darted all over. His face might have been handsome, if it were not so thin, or the light in the man's eyes not so wild and cold.

'Got something to sell,' the man said. His hands, which had been thrust deep into his pockets, emerged. One was empty, the other held a glittering necklace. Cery drew in a sharp breath, not having to fake his surprise. Such a piece could only have belonged to a rich man or woman - if it was real.

Cery reached out to take the necklace but the man snatched it away.

'I have to check it's not fake,' Cery pointed out.

The man frowned, his eyes hard with distrust. He pursed his lips, then reluctantly spread the necklace out on the table.

'Look,' he said. 'But don't touch.'

Cery sighed, then bent to examine the stones. He had no idea how to tell the difference between real or fake gems - something he would have to attend to - but he had seen pawnshop owners examining jewelry before.

'Turn it over,' he ordered.

The man flipped the necklace over. Looking close, Cery saw a name engraved on the setting. 'Hold it up so the light goes through the stones.'

Holding the necklace up by one hand, the man watched Cery squinting at it.

'What you think?'

'I'll take it for ten silver.'

The man dropped his hand. 'It's worth at least fifty gold!'

Cery snorted. 'Who's going to give you fifty gold in the slums?'

The man's mouth twitched.

'Twenty gold,' he said.

'Five,' Cery countered.

'Ten.'

Cery grimaced. 'Seven.'

'On the table.'

Reaching into his coat pocket, Cery counted coins with his fingertips, then drew out half of them. Producing more coins from the other places he had stowed Faren's money, he made six stacks of coins equal to one gold each, then sighed and drew a glinting gold coin from his boot.

'Put the jewels down,' Cery said.

The necklace dropped down onto the table beside the money. As the man reached for the coins Cery picked up the necklace and slipped it into his coat. The man looked down at the small fortune in his hands and grinned, his eyes bright with glee.

'A good deal, boy. You'll do well at this.' He backed out of the room, then turned and hurried away.

Cery moved to the door and watched the man stride to one of the other doors and step through. As he stepped into the corridor he heard a girl squeak with surprise.

'We never be apart now,' the gravelly voice said.

As Cery passed the room he glanced inside. The tattooed girl sat on the end of a bed. She glanced up at Cery, her eyes wide with fear. The man stood behind her, looking down at the coins in his hands. Continuing on, Cery headed back down to the lower floor.

He affected a sullen, disappointed look as he descended into the bolhouse. Reading his expression, the girls let him be. The male customers eyed him, but did not call out or approach.

It was only slightly colder outside. Thinking of the lack of customers in the brothel, he felt a stirring of pity for the whores as he crossed the street and stepped into the shadows of the alley.

'You look bored, little Ceryni.'

Cery spun about. It took a disconcertingly long time before he found the dark-skinned man in the shadows. Even when he had located Faren, he was disturbed to find he could see only a pair of yellow eyes, and the occasional flash of teeth.

'Have you got what I sent you for?'

'Yes.' Cery drew out the necklace and held it out in Faren's general direction. He felt gloved fingers brush his, then the jewelry lifted from his hand.

'Ah, that is the one.' Faren sighed and looked back at the brothel. 'Tonight's work is not done, Cery. There is