The young woman nodded and followed Nikea out of the room. The door closed behind them. Sonea stared at it as she waited for Cery. When it finally opened, however, it was a large man who entered the room. He looked familiar, and after a moment she remembered who he was.
“Gol, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, my lady,” he said.
She smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had called her “my lady” instead of “Black Magician.” “What news?”
“We’ve found her,” the big man said, his eyes widening with excitement. “I tracked her back to where she lives, and now Cery’s keeping an eye on her until you can come get her.”
Sonea felt her heart skip again, but then her stomach sank. I won’t be getting her. I have to send for Rothen. And Regin. Could she simply neglect to summon Regin? No, if the rogue is a strong magician she might overcome Rothen. Perhaps even kill him. Better that two magicians confront her rather than one. Oh, I wish I could go with him! But if I’m going to have to trust Regin with the knowledge that I’ve withheld information about a rogue, then he needs to get his hands dirty, too.
“How long have we got?” she asked.
Gol shrugged. “I don’t know, but if we’re lucky she’s gone to bed.”
“I need to send for some help. Two magicians are better than one in this situation.” She took a piece of paper and quickly scrawled the words “Northside” and “Now?” on it, then folded it and wrote Regin’s name and title on the back. Then she wrote the same message to Rothen. “Give these to Healer Nikea – the one who brought you in.”
Gol took the notes and slipped out of the room.
When the door opened again, Sonea expected it to be Gol returning. Instead it was Healer Nikea. As the young woman approached, she met Sonea’s eyes, then looked away, and immediately Sonea’s skin began to prickle. She’s going to ask me what all this is about. Maybe she’s recognised Gol, or found out that he works for a Thief. I doubt she’s going to scold me, but Nikea’s not the sort to let anything she disapproves of go unmentioned and ignored.
“Ah … I wanted to say …” the young woman began, rubbing her hands together with uncharacteristic nervousness.
“Yes?” Sonea prompted.
“Whatever it is you’re doing, I know it’s got to be for a good purpose.” Nikea straightened. “If you need someone here to … to ‘cover your tracks’, as they say, you can rely on me. And some of the other Healers, too. We’ll tell people you were here if you need to go out.”
Sonea realised her mouth had dropped open in surprise, and she quickly closed it.
“How many of you think this?” she managed to ask.
“Four of us. Sylia, Gejen, Colea and myself.”
Amused, Sonea suppressed the urge to smile. “You’ve discussed this already?”
Nikea’s gaze was steady. “Yes. We weren’t sure what was going on, if anything. But we all thought it had to be important, and that we were willing to help.”
Sonea felt her face begin to heat. “Thank you, Nikea.”
The girl shrugged, then backed away to the door. “Of course, we’d love to know what is going on, if you can tell us.” She touched the handle, then looked back hopefully.
Sonea chuckled. “When I can, I will.”
Nikea grinned. “I’ll send the next patient in.”
“Thank you. Again.”
As the door closed behind the Healer, Sonea couldn’t help grinning. Seems not all the Guild thinks I’ll turn into a crazed black-magic-wielding murderer the moment I’m out of their sight. The Healers’ trust was touching. Perhaps she could risk leaving the hospice, after all. It would be safer for Rothen and Regin. While there had been no hint that the rogue was a black magician, things could turn very nasty if it turned out she were.
And Sonea had to admit, the idea of sneaking around the city with Cery again filled her with both nostalgia and excitement. It wouldn’t be fair if Rothen and Regin got to have all the fun, while she had to sit and wait for news.
CHAPTER 19
IN HIDING
As Gol had warned, the area of the city the rogue lived in was surprisingly respectable, and not the sort where anyone could loiter and remain inconspicuous. She rented the basement of a shoemaker’s shop and home. All of the street’s buildings had a shop at ground level and accommodation for the shopkeeper upstairs.
Cery had sent some of his people out to visit local shops to see if he could watch for the woman from within one of them. One reported overhearing a shopkeeper say his neighbour was away visiting his wife’s family in Elyne, and a few picked locks later Cery was sitting in the absent shopkeeper’s first floor guest room, relaxing in a comfortable chair next to the street side window, watching night fall and lamp-lighters setting the street aglow with light.
He’d also sent people to watch the rear entrance to the shoemaker’s home. The basement was accessible not just via the shop above it but through a sunken back door. Regular reports assured him that she hadn’t left.
Gol was taking longer than he ought to, though. Did I misunderstand Sonea’s message? She said she would be dealing with “the matter” and that I should send information to the hospice. Well, I’ve done that.
A door opened downstairs and he tensed. The footsteps of two or three people thumped up the staircase. Were they his people, or the shopkeeper and his family returning? He moved quickly, concealing himself behind the open door where he could hopefully slip out of the room unnoticed if he needed to. In case they should notice him, he slipped a hand into his coat to where he kept his most visually impressive knife.
“Cery?” a familiar voice called.
Gol. Letting out a sigh of relief, Cery stepped out from behind the door to find his bodyguard and two people wearing long concealing cloaks nearing the top of the stairs. He recognised Sonea. Cery narrowed his eyes at the other man. There was something familiar about him. As the trio came into the light, Cery felt an old memory spring to life.
“Regin,” he said. “Or is that Lord Regin now?”
“It is,” the man replied.
“It always was, Cery,” Sonea reminded him. “But calling novices ‘Lord’ or ‘Lady’ always feels a bit premature. Lord Regin and Lord Rothen have volunteered to assist me in catching the rogue, which could prove vital if I am unable to sneak away unnoticed from the hospice at some point.”
“If luck is with us, you won’t have to slip away again,” Cery told her. “So is Lord Rothen coming?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t see the point, if I was going.”
Cery watched Regin follow Sonea into the room. From what I remember, Sonea didn’t like this man much when she was a novice. He made things bad for her. But when Cery had met Regin during the Ichani Invasion, the young man had volunteered to be the bait that drew a Sachakan magician into Sonea and Akkarin’s trap. It had been a brave move. Had the timing been wrong – and it nearly had been from what Cery recalled – Regin would have had all magic and life drained from him.
If he hadn’t known better, Cery would never have believed the man he was examining had been the prank-playing, mischief-making novice Sonea had complained about. Lord Regin’s face appeared set into a permanent expression of seriousness. Though his build had the healthy weight of someone who’d lived a privileged life, the lines between his brows and around his mouth spoke of worry and resignation. But there’s intelligence in those eyes, he noted. He’s no less dangerous than he was as a novice, I’d wager. Still, Sonea trusts him enough to recruit him for this. Then he looked at her and saw the wariness in her posture as she glanced at her magician helper. Or maybe she has no choice. I’d better ask her about him, as soon as I have a chance to chat to her alone.
“So where is our rogue?” Sonea asked.
Cery moved to the window. “In the basement of the shoemaker across the street.”
She peered outside. “How many entrances?”
“Two. Both watched.”
�
�We should split into two groups then. One magician in each.”
Cery nodded in agreement. “I’ll go with you in through the front door. Gol can take Regin around to the back. We’ll meet in the basement, where you’ll do whatever it is you do.” He looked at the others. They nodded. “Any questions?” Glances were exchanged, then heads shook. “Let’s go then.”
They filed back down the stairs. Cery explained and demonstrated a few signals that he and Gol would use as warnings or to signal a retreat, then they stepped outside. It was full night now. The lamps cast circles of light on the ground. Gol led Regin away toward the back entrance. Cery and Sonea waited to give them time to get into place, then walked across the road to the shoemaker’s shop.
Climbing the steps, they approached the front door. Cery produced an oil dripper and quickly smeared the door hinges. Then he drew picks from within his coat. Sonea said nothing, her face in shadow, as he worked the lock open. I guess she could do this with magic – possibly faster than I can. So why don’t I suggest it? Am I showing off?
The lock clicked softly. Cery slowly turned the handle, bracing as the latch sprung free. He pulled the door open, relieved when it made only a soft groan. Sonea stepped inside, then waited as he closed the door behind them.
It was dark in the shop and as his eyes adjusted he was able to make out rows of shoes lined up on shelving, and a work table. Opposite the door was a narrow staircase leading down, and another leading up. According to his spies, the shoemaker was asleep upstairs. And about to get a rude wake-up.
Sonea moved to the stairs and looked at the treads leading down. She shook her head, then beckoned to Cery. As he approached, she grabbed his arm and pulled him close. Staring at her in surprise, he realised that in the dim light she looked like the young woman he’d once helped hide from the Guild so many years ago. She wore the same intent, worried expression.
Then he felt himself rising in the air and all thought of the past fled from his mind. He looked down. Though he could feel something beneath his feet, he couldn’t see it. Whatever it was, it was carrying him and Sonea down the staircase.
I guess this means there’s no risk of creaking treads betraying us.
A sparsely furnished room appeared as they neared the floor of the basement. Dazzling light filled the space as a glowing ball appeared above Sonea’s head. Cery looked for the bed, found it, then felt a surge of disappointment. It was unoccupied.
A door opened and they both spun about, then sighed as they saw Regin and Gol enter the room. Both frowned as they saw the rogue was nowhere in sight.
“Search,” Sonea said. “But carefully.”
They each chose a wall, examining the furniture, looking under the bed, opening cupboards.
“This room isn’t being used,” Regin observed. “The clothes in this cupboard are dusty.”
Cery nodded and nudged a basin with soiled cups, bowls and cutlery in it. “And these dishes have been dirty for so long they’re mouldy.”
“Aha!” Gol exclaimed quietly. All turned to see him gesturing at the wall. A section of bricks sat at an angle to the rest, swivelling aside as he pressed on one end. Behind was a dark space. Cery crossed to it and sniffed at the air inside.
“The Thieves’ Road,” he said. “Or a passage to it.”
Sonea chuckled. “Not two entrances after all. I’m surprised you didn’t check for subterranean ones.”
Cery shrugged. “It’s a new street. When the king demolishes the old ones, he makes sure the Road goes too.”
“He wasn’t thorough enough this time,” she said. Coming closer, she ran a hand over the brickwork. “Or perhaps he was. This is new – hardly any dust or cobwebs on it. Should we see where it leads?”
“If you want to explore, go ahead,” Cery told her. “But this isn’t my territory. I can’t enter without permission. If I trespass,” he shrugged, “the Thief Hunter will have one less Thief to do in.”
“Does this passage suggest our rogue is working with the local Thief?” Regin asked.
Sonea looked at Cery. “If she is the Thief Hunter, then I doubt it. But if she’s not, then she’d have skills a Thief would find very useful.”
In other words, she thinks this proves that the rogue isn’t the Thief Hunter, Cery thought.
Regin peered into the tunnel, his expression intent. He looked as if he might move inside, but then he stepped back and straightened.
“I suspect she’s long gone. What do you recommend we do next, Cery?” he asked.
Cery glanced at the magician in surprise. A magician asking him his opinion was not something that happened often. “I agree that you’re unlikely to find her in the tunnels.” He reached out and turned the bricks back into place. “If she doesn’t notice that we invaded her room she might continue using it to access the tunnels. We should make sure everything is exactly how we found it. I’ll put a watch on this place and let you know if she returns.”
“And if she does notice?” Regin asked.
“Then we’ll have to hope another bit of luck leads us to her again.”
Regin nodded, then looked at Sonea. She shrugged. “Not much else we can do for now. If anyone can find her again, Cery will.”
Cery felt a flush of pleasure, followed by a niggling anxiety that she might be wrong. He had spotted the rogue by chance. It might not be so easy to find her again. The four of them moved around the room quickly, making sure everything was in order, then left the way they had come. Sonea relocked the front door with magic. They slipped out the back way. Once in the main street again, they exchanged glances but remained silent. The two magicians raised hands in farewell before they walked away. Cery and Gol returned to the empty shopkeeper’s house.
“Well, that was disappointing,” Gol said.
“Yes,” Cery agreed.
“Do you think the rogue will come back?”
“No. She’ll have had something set up to tell her if anyone came visiting.”
“So what do we do next?”
“Watch and hope I’m wrong.” He looked around the room. “And find out when the owner of this place is due back. We don’t want to scare him and his family half to death at finding a Thief in his house.”
The slave master looked surprised to see Dannyl and Ashaki Achati, before he threw himself to the ground at their feet. His surprise was not because a powerful Sachakan and Kyralian magician had come visiting. The estate had been expecting them, or someone, to arrive.
“You came faster than we hoped,” the big man said when Achati explained that they were looking for an escaped female slave and a Kyralian man dressed as a slave.
“You have seen the pair I described?” Achati asked.
“Yes. Two nights ago. One of the slaves thought they were people we’d been warned about, and when we came to question them they had run away.”
“Did you search for them?”
“No.” The man bowed his head. “We were warned they were magicians, and that only magicians could catch them.”
“Who gave you this warning?”
“The master, in a message.”
“When did the message arrive?”
“A day before the pair arrived here.”
Achati glanced at Dannyl, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. So if Ashaki Tikako didn’t send the message, who did? Dannyl felt his heart skip a beat. The Traitors. They must be very organised to get messages like this out to the country estates so quickly.
“How long ago did you send your message warning your master of their appearance here?”
“Two nights ago – straight after they disappeared.”
Achati turned to Dannyl. “If he is on his way he won’t arrive for another day, even if he rides rather than taking a carriage. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait. I don’t have the authority to read the minds of another man’s slaves.”
“Do you have the authority to question them?” Dannyl asked.
The magician frowned. “There is no custom or law preven
ting me. Or you.”
“Then let’s question them.”
Achati smiled. “We’ll do it your way? Why not?” He chuckled. “If you do not mind, I would like to watch and learn from you. I would not know what questions to ask that might trick a slave into revealing more than he or she wanted to.”
“There really isn’t any trickery involved,” Dannyl assured him.
“Which do you want to question first?”
“This man, and anyone who saw Lorkin and Tyvara. And most of all, the slave who saw them and thought they might be the people they’d been warned about.” Dannyl drew out his notebook and looked at the slave master. “And I need a room – nothing fancy – where I can question them alone without others overhearing.”
The man looked from Dannyl to Achati uncertainly.
“Arrange it,” Achati ordered. As the man hurried away, the Sachakan magician turned to smile crookedly at Dannyl. “You really must learn to phrase your requests as orders, Ambassador Dannyl.”
“You have the greater authority here,” Dannyl replied. “And I am a foreigner. It would be rude of me to assume I could take control.”
Achati looked at him thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I suppose you are right.”
The slave master returned and then led them into the building to a small room that smelled of grain. The floor was covered in a fine dust patterned with the sweeping grooves of a broom. Particles hung in the beams of sunlight streaming in from a high window. Two chairs had been placed under the window.
“Well, it’s definitely not fancy,” Achati said, not hiding his amusement.
“Where would you suggest we question them?” Dannyl asked.
Achati sighed. “I guess it would be presumptuous if we’d questioned them in the Master’s Room, and guest rooms would have made it obvious we aren’t in charge here. No, I suppose this is an appropriate setting.” He moved to one of the chairs and sat down.
Dannyl took the other seat, then ordered the slave master to enter. The man related how two slaves had arrived with an empty cart, the male apparently new but lacking in muscle for a delivery slave, and the woman there to show him the route. While they’d loaded the cart one of the kitchen slaves had suggested to him that the pair might be the people they’d been warned to watch out for. She suggested drugging their food, as they would be less dangerous asleep.
The Ambassador’s Mission: Book One of the Traitor Spy Trilogy Page 26
