The Ambassador’s Mission

“Well, good for you for not denying it. What are your plans?”

“To go home and sort this out.”

Chari’s gaze shifted to Lorkin and moved from his head to his feet and back again. “What about him?”

Lorkin decided to ignore that he was being discussed as if he wasn’t there. He inclined his head politely. “Honoured to meet you, Chari of the Traitors.”

The woman grinned and walked over to face him. “I like him. Honoured to meet you, too, Lorkin of the Guild.”

“He has offered to return with me, to speak in my defence at the trial.” Tyvara’s words were quiet.

Chari’s eyebrows rose. “And are you wanting to go with her?” she asked of him.

“Yes.”

Her expression became both approving and appraising. “You’re a brave man. Are you going to give us what your father didn’t?”

“We’ll discuss that when we get there,” Tyvara replied before he could respond.

The young woman chuckled. “I’m sure you will. Of course, that’s not what’s supposed to happen,” she told him. “You’re supposed to be returned to Arvice. We’re certainly not meant to bring you back to our secret home. I’ll have to get permission for that.”

“How long will that take?” he asked.

Chari considered. “Six or seven days. We can shorten that by meeting Speaker Savara at the tanners’ huts.” She glanced at Tyvara. “Savara was Tyvara’s mentor – and mine – and is one of our leaders. If you still want to come to Sanctuary, you’ll have to talk her into taking you.”

“How would I best do that?”

Chari shrugged.

“With your usual charm and enthusiasm,” Tyvara told him. “Don’t make any promises, though. My people will regard them with suspicion, if they believe them at all. You only need to mention you are willing to consider making amends for your father’s betrayal, not specify how.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

Tyvara smiled. “I’m looking forward to watching you try.”

“As am I,” Chari said. She looked down at his shoes. “How are your feet?”

“Well used.”

“Fancy a cart ride? We have a load of feed headed for one of the outer estates tomorrow. I’m sure there’s room for two more slaves.”

Lorkin looked at Tyvara. “We can trust her?”

She nodded. “Chari is an old friend of mine. We trained together.”

He smiled at Chari and inclined his head. “Then I accept. In fact, it sounds like an offer too good to refuse.”

“Then don’t.” Chari smiled brightly. “I can offer you more comfortable beds at my estate than a bit of dirt in an old ruin. And,” she leaned toward Lorkin and sniffed, “a bath.”

Lorkin looked toward Tyvara. She was frowning.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Sighing, she looked at Chari. “Are you sure Lorkin is safe at your estate?”

The young woman grinned. “The master’s a sweet old drunk. I make all the decisions there, including which slaves he buys. There’s not one slave there I didn’t approve of, and the few times Speaker Sneaky has tried to get one of her girls in I’ve found them somewhere else to be.”

Tyvara shook her head slowly. “You’re going to be a very scary woman if you ever decide to take a place at the Table.”

“You can bet on it.” Chari grinned. “So you’d better stay on my good side. And you’ll have a better chance of that if you have that bath. Come on. Let’s get home before the master misses me.”

“She wouldn’t ask to meet you if there wasn’t good reason,” Gol said as he hurried after Cery.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Cery retorted.

“Well… all I’m saying is she’s a sensible girl.”

“I’d much rather she was not sensible with no good reason to see me.” Cery scowled. “If she’s sensible and has a good reason then there’s a better chance something bad has happened.”

Gol sighed and said nothing more. Cery wove past boxes and tubs of rotting food in the alley. At least I know that Anyi is still alive, he thought. Gol had occasionally tried to find her, and Cery had been pleased that he’d failed – and tried to tell himself it was because she’d succeeded in hiding rather than because her corpse had never been found or recognised.

Near the end of the alleyway he stopped and hammered on a door. After a short pause, the door swung inward and a man with a scarred face ushered them inside. A familiar woman stepped out of a side door to meet them.

“Donia,” Cery said, managing a half-smile. “How’s business?”

“The usual,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into a wry smile. “Good to see you again. I’ve got the rooms set the way you like. She’s waiting up there.”

“Thanks.”

He and Gol climbed the stairs. Worry made him edgy, and he couldn’t help glancing through doorways and around corners for signs of ambush. Though Cery did not think Donia would betray him willingly, he never discounted the chance that someone would remember they had been friends in their youth, and set a trap for him in her bolhouse. Or spy on him. He always had Donia empty the top-floor rooms either side of and below the one he held meetings in, so nobody could eavesdrop.