The Ambassador's Mission

Catching the dryness of her tone, Cery looked at her closely. He had been both pleased and dismayed by her summons to the Guild to identify the rogue, but she’d assured him that she had only referred to him as an old friend. There was a chance some of the older magicians would remember him from twenty years before, and knew he’d become a Thief but it was a slim one. But it was worth the risk if it meant his family’s murderer was found.

He also understood she was worried that the Guild would restrict her freedom more now they knew she had been roaming about the city without permission. The fact that she’d been associating with a Thief would not make things any better for her, despite the fact that this was no longer against any Guild rules.

While the hunt for the rogue was over, the matter was hardly settled as far as the Guild was concerned.

“How has the meeting gone so far?” he asked.

“There has been lots and lots of arguing,” she began.

“Of course.”

“Worse than usual. I always suspected that if a magician from beyond the Allied Lands wanted to live in one of our countries it would bring our laws into question. But I always assumed it would be a Sachakan magician.”

“Has the rogue told you anything about where she came from?”

“No. She’s refusing to speak. So is Forlie, though I think that’s more out of fear than stubbornness.”

They reached the top of the stairs and she led them through the entry hall full of impossibly delicate spiralling staircases that Cery remembered from his last visit, over twenty years before. Gol and Anyi both gazed around, their mouths open in astonishment, and Cery had to smother a chuckle. Sonea did not hesitate, but led them into a wide corridor. This finished at the huge Great Hall that contained the old building that was the Guildhall. A building within a building. Cery didn’t think Gol and Anyi’s mouths could open any wider.

“Will you read her mind?” Cery asked Sonea.

“I expect we will eventually. That’s part of what the arguing has been about. Since we don’t know anything about the place she came from we don’t know if reading her mind without her permission would be taken as an unforgivable abuse.”

“But you can’t find out where she came from without reading her mind,” Anyi said.

“No.”

“And that’s why we’re here. You need proof she did something illegal.”

Sonea had reached the doors of the Guildhall, which were slowly opening. She looked at Anyi and smiled crookedly.

“Yes. More than just using magic in self defence.”

As the doors swung wide, Cery caught his breath. The hall was full of magicians. It was a sight he suspected few non-magicians could see and not feel awed and intimidated. Especially when they considered all the magical power these magicians held.

Looks like they’re doing a good job of replacing the numbers they lost during the Ichani Invasion, he noted. The tiered seats on either side were full, but the rows of chairs in the centre of the room were empty. Which are for the novices, he recalled. That’s good. There’s likely to be more people from the low end of town among them, who might recognise me.

Sonea strode forward, black robes swirling. Following her, Cery glanced at Gol and Anyi, walking on either side of him. Both were averting their eyes from the watching magicians, keeping their gaze fixed on the scene ahead of them.

A magician in blue robes stood waiting at the far end of the room. The Administrator. This was a different man to the one Cery remembered wearing those robes long ago, before the Ichani Invasion. He was older than that man had been.

Behind the Administrator were more tiered seats. The Higher Magicians. Cery examined the faces. Some looked familiar, some did not. He recognised Rothen, the magician who had guided Sonea through her early years in the University. The old man met Cery’s gaze and nodded once.

Two women stood before the Higher Magicians. Cery recognised Forlie, who looked frightened out of her wits. The other woman turned to see who was approaching and Cery felt his heart skip.

Yes, that’s her.

As she glared at him, Cery’s blood went cold. In the dim light of the pawnshop attic, he hadn’t seen her too clearly, though enough to recognise her when he saw her the next time. And when he’d seen her in the street outside the shop, it had been at a distance. But here, under the bright glow of many magical globe lights, he noticed something he’d not had the opportunity to see before.

She had the same strange eyes as Skellin’s. They were of the same race.