The Ambassador's Mission

by Trudi Canavan

Retaining the ring is another reason not to go to Sanctuary. It’s only a small reason, though. And one I can remove.

  There were many more reasons to go than not, however. First, there was Tyvara. He could not contemplate abandoning her. If he didn’t speak on her behalf at the trial, she might be executed. She had saved his life, and might die for it. Which would make it entirely his fault.

  Even if I knew she would be fine, the thought of never seeing her again … His chest tightened and his heart began to beat faster. He frowned. There is more to this than an obligation to help her. I like her. A lot. I couldn’t abandon her, even if she doesn’t have the same feelings for me.

  He thought about what Chari had hinted at. “Not any and every man for our Tyvara. Don’t worry about that.” The woman believed that Tyvara found him attractive. But Tyvara wasn’t behaving that way. She seemed determined to repel him, frowning and scowling when he talked to her, and trying to talk him into going home. Each time she did, Chari assured him that Tyvara felt guilty for not telling him earlier about the price for entering Sanctuary, and didn’t want him sacrificing his freedom for her sake.

  But if I let her talk me into going home, she’d have not only saved me, but possibly sacrificed her own life for me. I can’t let that happen.

  Tyvara wasn’t the only reason he ought to go to Sanctuary. To have come so far, got so close to these Traitors, and not attempt to set up negotiations between them and the Guild would be a waste of a great opportunity. He doubted that strangers often had the chance to enter Sanctuary and make such proposals. Even if the Traitors didn’t like the idea, at least he’d have put it into their minds.

  But how realistic was it to hope that a people so secretive would, one day, decide to trade with the Guild?

  Well, if they want Healing knowledge they’ll have to.

  It was possible that the Traitors would decide it was safer to reject Healing and remain hidden to the world, keeping him trapped in Sanctuary. But it was worth the risk.

  He had to admit, he did feel a nagging obligation to atone for his father’s betrayal. Though he would never give them Healing knowledge without the permission of the Guild, he could work toward gaining that permission. He felt like he owed the Traitors that much.

  And if all goes to plan, we’ll get something in return. Perhaps only this ability to block mind-reading, but I have a feeling they have more to offer than that. I’m sure the mind-blocking is done with some sort of gem like the blood stones. That could be a whole new area of magic to be explored.

  There was no way the Guild would agree to a trade with the Traitors while they had Lorkin imprisoned. Eventually, if the Traitors wanted Healing knowledge, they would have to let him go. In the meantime … Chari had mentioned records. Having been hidden away for several centuries, the Traitors must have historical information that Dannyl had never encountered before. Records that might lead to the rediscovery of ancient magic. Magic that the Guild could use for its defence.

  Assuming that such magic does exist, can be used for defence, and I ever manage to get the information to the Guild.

  Lorkin sighed. Perhaps he was being too optimistic, thinking that one day the Traitors would ally themselves with the Guild and the Allied Lands, and he would regain his freedom. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

  Yet the Traitors were much better people than those that ruled the rest of Sachaka. They hated slavery, for a start. They counted all as equals, men and women, magicians and non-magicians.

  They also had an incredible amount of influence over the country through their spies. He had to admit, the possibility of them taking over Sachaka one day was appealing. He had no doubt the first thing they would do is abolish slavery. He doubted they’d give up black magic, though. Still, it would be a big step toward Sachaka becoming one of the Allied Lands.

  How can I give up and go back to Arvice, after all I’ve seen there? The slaves, the awful hierarchy based on inheritance and black magic. The Traitors’ society can’t be worse than that.

  So many reasons to go to Sanctuary. So few to go back to Arvice.

  He hadn’t realised he’d stood up until he found himself on his feet. The feeling of determination and decisiveness was exhilarating. He stepped past dozing women and walked to where Savara leaned against the rock wall, her eyes closed.

  “I’ll come to Sanctuary,” he told her, guessing that she wasn’t asleep.

  Her eyes flew open and snapped to his. She stared at him, her gaze disconcertingly intelligent. He found himself thinking that she must have been quite a beauty in her youth.

  “Good,” she said.

  “But you’re going to have to let me deal with Ambassador Dannyl,” he added. “He’s not going to give up. If you’d met my mother you’d understand why. Eventually he’ll either find Sanctuary or you’ll have to kill him. I rather like him, and would appreciate you not killing him. And if you did, there would probably be consequences that would not be good for the Traitors.”

  “How will you persuade him to stop following you?”

  He smiled grimly. “I know what to say to him. I’ll need to speak to him alone, though.”

  “I doubt the Ashaki will let you go, if they see you.”

  “We’ll have to lure him away from them.”

  She frowned as she considered this. “I think we can arrange that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Go sleep. We’ll have to let them catch up with us again, so we may as well get some rest in the meantime.”

  He walked back to his mattress and found Tyvara sitting up, glaring at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You had better not be thinking there is more between you and I than there actually is, Kyralian,” she said in a low voice.

  He stared at her, feeling doubts starting to creep in. She stared back, then abruptly turned away and lay down with her back to him. He settled onto his mattress, feeling worry starting to eat at him.

  Perhaps this is a one-sided thing …

  “Don’t worry,” Chari whispered. “She always does this. The more she likes someone the more she pushes them away.”

  “Shut up, Chari,” Tyvara hissed.

  Lying on the hard ground, Lorkin knew that sleep was going to be impossible. It was going to be a very long day. And he was beginning to wonder if there might be a significant downside to living in a city of women like these.

  As Regin related the final stages of the Ichani Invasion, Sonea cursed Cery again and tried not to listen. After leaving the Guild, she and the Healer who had brought the message had hurried to the hospice by carriage.

  So many hours have passed since then, it feels like something that happened yesterday.

  There had been a delay, she remembered. A Healer new to the hospice had pinned her down with questions about protocol. Sonea had told the man that he could ask such questions of any Healer there, and some of the helpers, but he didn’t seem to trust them. By the time Sonea extracted herself, Regin was there, waiting for her.

  He arrived in a covered cart used to transport supplies to his family home. She had felt strangely out of place, riding in the back of an old cart, the both of them using empty crates as seats. But it was a smart move. They would attract too much attention if they arrived in a Guild carriage.

  He’d also brought some threadbare old coats to wear over their robes. For that she was immensely grateful, and a little ashamed that she hadn’t considered how they were going to disguise themselves.

  Well, I had a lot on my mind. A lot more than Regin knows. And while Cery knows about Lorkin’s abduction, I haven’t had a chance to tell him that Dannyl is in the midst of tracking Lorkin down right now.

  When they arrived at their destination, a man had walked up to them and told them their host was waiting for them – just knock on the last door to the left down that alleyway. They’d entered the old butchery building, whose owner had been forced to move his business away when the area had grown more prosperous and finicky abo
ut its neighbours. It was used as a storehouse.

  The sun was setting when we arrived. I was worried we were too late. I needn’t have rushed.

  They’d been ushered into a surprisingly well-furnished room. An extraordinary-looking man had risen from one of the expensive chairs to bow to them. He was dark like a Lonmar, but with a distinct reddish tone to his skin, and strange, elongated eyes that put her in mind of drawings of the dangerous predatory animals that roamed the mountains.

  He had no accent, however. He introduced himself as Skellin and offered them a drink. They’d declined. She assumed Regin was as reluctant to muddle his senses before a possible magical confrontation as she was.

  Maybe I should have had that drink.

  Skellin was clearly excited to meet them. When he had finally stopped exclaiming about being in the presence of real magicians –and the famous Black Magician Sonea herself, he told them of his history. He and his mother had left their homeland – a land far to the north – when he was a child. Faren, the Thief she had once agreed to use magic for in exchange for hiding her from the Guild, had raised him to be his heir. He remembered little of his homeland, and considered himself a Kyralian.

  Sonea had begun to warm to him at this point, though she hadn’t forgotten that he was an importer of roet. Cery had arrived at last and Skellin grew serious. He explained his trap. The rogue, he had learned, worked for a roet seller who bought his supply from a worker in this building. They were due to pick up some more. But the timing was never sure. Sometimes they dropped by early in the evening, sometimes late. Skellin had men ready to tell him when she and the seller arrived. They had only to wait.

  And wait we have, she thought. For hours and hours. All I want to do is get back to Osen and find out if Dannyl has caught up with Lorkin yet.

  Instead, she and Regin had been urged to tell stories about the Guild. Skellin knew how she had become a magician, but not how Regin had come to join the Guild. Even though Regin’s story was hardly exciting or unusual, it clearly intrigued Skellin. He then wanted to know how their learning in the University was structured. Of the rules that they had to follow. Of the disciplines and what they involved.

  It grew less pleasant when he urged them to describe the Ichani Invasion. “You must have amazing tales to tell,” the Thief had said, grinning. “I wasn’t there, of course. My mother and I hadn’t arrived in the country yet.”

  Regin had saved her from revisiting the more painful time in her past by taking over the storytelling at that point. She wondered if he had guessed how difficult it would be for her. Either way, she felt even more gratitude toward him.

  That’s three things I have to thank him for tonight, she thought. The cart, the coats and saving me from reliving some unpleasant memories. I had better …

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Skellin called out, and a lean man in black clothes opened the door.

  “They’re here,” the man said, then backed out of the room again.

  Sonea sighed with relief as quietly as she could manage. They all rose to their feet. Skellin looked at them in turn.

  “Leave your coats here, if you wish. Nobody but my people and the rogue will see you.” He smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing those famous powers of yours at work. Follow me.”

  They filed through another door into a long corridor. Windows at the far end glowed faintly.

  It’s nearly dawn. We’ve been up all night! She felt a stab of apprehension. Has Dannyl found Lorkin yet? What if Osen sent someone to get me and they discovered I’m missing? Even if he hasn’t, my allies at the hospice will have found it hard to stop the new Healer from looking for me to ask yet more questions.

  Someone must have noticed my absence by now.

  But if they had, it would not matter. When she and Regin returned to the Guild with the rogue there would be no more concealing her venturing outside of the hospices. If Rothen was right, nobody would care. Everybody’s attention would be on the discovery that a magician who not only wasn’t a member of the Guild but had actively been working for criminals had been living in the city.

  If he was wrong, things were going to get very unpleasant for both of them.

  CHAPTER 27

  THE TRAP IS SPRUNG

  As Cery had followed Skellin, Sonea and Regin out of the room he’d made a mental note to apologise to Sonea, once they were alone, for the long night she had endured. Perhaps it was only because he’d known her for so long that he’d detected how uncomfortable she’d been with Skellin’s questions about the Ichani Invasion.

  Though I’d have thought anyone clever enough to become a Thief as powerful as he was, in such a short time, would realise that she’d hardly want to talk about the battle that led to the death of the man she loved.

  Cery had felt an overwhelming gratitude to Regin for taking over at that point and saving Sonea from telling the story, or refusing to. The irony of that wasn’t lost on him. Regin was not a person he’d have ever expected to thank for being considerate.

  At the end of the long corridor they climbed stairs to the upper floor of the old building. Skellin led them to a closed door. He paused as he took hold of the handle and looked at Sonea and Regin.

  “Ready?”

  The two magicians nodded.

  Skellin opened the door and stepped through, then moved aside quickly as if eager not to be caught between the magicians and their quarry. Cery followed Sonea and Regin into a room filled with crates, lit with lamps set around the room. Four people had turned to see who had entered. Three were men and one was a woman wearing a cloak, the hood up and shadowing all but the dark skin of her chin and jaw. Two of the men looked unconcerned and unsurprised at the interruption. The third man looked from Skellin to the magicians, his gaze dropping to their robes. He looked shocked and frightened.

  But the woman’s reaction was the most dramatic. She backed away, then raised her arms as if to ward off a blow. The air vibrated faintly. Sonea and Regin exchanged a knowing look. That was some sort of magical attack, Cery guessed. The magicians turned their attention back to the woman. She yelped in surprise and tucked her arms in against her sides.

  Or is that an involuntary movement? Cery thought. She looks as if something invisible is wrapped around her.

  The magicians paused as if waiting for something, but nothing happened. Sonea glanced at Regin again, then walked over to the woman.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “F-Forlie,” the woman answered, her voice trembling.

  “Did you know, Forlie, that all magicians in the Allied Lands must be members of the Magicians’ Guild?”

  The woman swallowed audibly and nodded.

  “Why aren’t you a member?” Sonea asked. There was no accusation in her voice, just curiosity.

  The woman blinked, then her head turned toward Skellin. “I … I didn’t want to.”

  Sonea smiled, and while it was a reassuring smile there was a sadness to it. “We have to take you to the Guild now. They won’t harm you, but you have broken a law. They’ll have to decide what to do with you. If you cooperate it will be better for you in the long run. Will you come with us quietly?”

  Forlie nodded. Sonea reached out a hand to her. Whatever force Sonea or Regin had kept her arms fixed against her body with was removed and the woman’s shoulders relaxed. Tentatively, she reached out to take Sonea’s hand. The two of them walked over to Regin. Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. Skellin looked pleased, Cery noted. Sonea and Regin looked grim but also relieved. Forlie …

  Cery frowned, then walked over to the woman and tugged off her hood. He felt a shock as he saw her face.

  “This isn’t her. This isn’t the rogue.”

  There was a pause, then Skellin coughed. “Of course it is. She used magic, didn’t she?” He looked at Sonea and Regin.

  “She did,” Regin agreed.

  “Then there must be two rogues,” Cery said. “It might’ve been dark when I
saw her, but Forlie doesn’t look anything like the woman I saw doing magic.”

  “She has dark skin and she is the right age. You only saw her from above. How can you be so sure?”

  “The shape of her face is all wrong.” The woman’s skin was lighter, too. She had Lonmar bloodlines, he guessed, and their typical physique. But the woman he’d seen in the pawnshop had an entirely different build. “She’s too tall.” And too meek to my family’s killer.

  “You didn’t tell me this before,” Skellin pointed out.

  Cery looked at him. “I guess I didn’t think it was worth going into detail, if there was only one woman using magic in the city.”

  “It would have been useful to know.” For a moment a scowl crossed Skellin’s face, then he sighed and shrugged. “Well, I guess it’ll still be useful. You can identify the other one for us.”

  Looking at Sonea, Cery saw she was shaking her head in dismay. He remembered how concerned she was that she might be discovered wandering about the city without permission. Once she brought this rogue to the Guild, they would know she’d defied their restrictions.

  “Is this going to be a problem for you?” he asked.

  “We’ll make sure it isn’t,” Regin replied firmly. “But it may be a problem for you. Once word gets out that we have caught this w—” He glanced at the woman. “Forlie,” he corrected. “The other rogue will be more cautious. She will not be so easy to find.”

  “Not that she was in the first place,” Skellin added.

  Regin looked at the Thief. “Will you assist us again?”

  “Of course,” Skellin smiled.

  As the magician’s gaze shifted to him, Cery bowed. “As always.”

  “Then we’ll be waiting for your next message,” Sonea said. “In the meantime, we need to get back to the Guild as quickly as possible.” Her eyes flitted away. Following her gaze, Cery saw that the light of dawn was filtering through windows all around the room.

  “Yes. Go,” Skellin said. He waved a hand dismissively at the three men still standing over by the crates, watching with bemused expressions. “Continue your work,” he said to them. “Now, let me escort you out,” he said to the magicians. “Come this way.”