The Ambassador’s Mission

They passed low white walls, then a pair of open gates. As soon as the carriage stopped, Achati’s slave opened the door. Following his companion out, Dannyl looked around at the estate courtyard and the slaves lying, face-down, on the dusty ground. The rest of the magicians, their slaves and the Duna tribesman dismounted, and Achati stepped forward to speak to the head slave.

I wonder how many of these slaves are Traitors, Dannyl thought. At each estate they’d stayed at, with the permission of the owners, the Sachakans had read the slave’s minds. Many believed that some of the country estates run by slaves, and a few by Ashaki, were actually controlled by Traitors, and were secret training places for spies.

This estate was run by an Ashaki. Dannyl’s helpers had decided it was the safest one in this area to investigate. Even so, the thought that they might be in a place effectively controlled by Traitors sent a small shiver of excitement and fear down Dannyl’s spine. If the slaves were all Traitors, did that mean they were also magicians? If they were, they outnumbered the visitors.

But even if they were all spies and black magicians, they would need a strong reason to attack a group of visiting Ashaki. The inevitable retaliation would force them to abandon their hold on the estate.

The head slave took them all to the Master’s Room. The Ashaki owner, an old man with a limp, greeted them warmly. When they explained why they were there, and that they needed to read the minds of his slaves, he agreed reluctantly.

“It is likely there are Traitors among my slaves,” he admitted. “Considering how close we are to the mountains. But they seem to have a way of hiding it from their thoughts.” He shrugged, suggesting that he’d given up on finding them.

After an hour, all the slaves but a few field workers had been read. The Ashaki visitors retired to the guest rooms, where they lounged on cushions and discussed what they had learned, after first sending away the slaves sent to attend to them.

“A female slave from another estate visited last night,” one of the Ashaki said. “She wanted food for four people.”

Another nodded. “A lone woman was seen arriving and leaving by one of the field workers. She took food to a stock cart.”

“We heard about this stock cart last night,” Achati said. “Is it the same one? Is it unusual for a cart to be travelling this way?”

“It’s not unusual for more prosperous estates to sell feed to less fertile ones at the foot of the mountains.”

“They are in the cart,” stated a new voice.

All looked up to see Unh standing in the doorway. He looked oddly out of place indoors, Dannyl noted. Like a plant which you know will die from lack of sunlight.

“A slave told me,” the man said. He turned and walked away.

The Ashaki exchanged thoughtful looks. None of them questioned Unh’s claim, Dannyl noted. What reason would the tribesman have to lie? He is being paid to find Lorkin and Tyvara.

Achati turned to Dannyl. “You were right, Ambassador. The Traitors do want us to find them, and they have finally given us directions.”

CHAPTER 25 THE MESSENGER’S NEWS

While not as sturdy as the boots the Guild had provided for Lorkin all his life, the simple leather shoes slaves wore made little noise. The pack he carried had seemed too small and light to contain enough supplies at first, but the weight of it appeared to have grown since he’d first shouldered it. Tyvara had taken the lead, walking with steady, measured steps as the way became more steep and difficult. Chari followed behind Lorkin, uncharacteristically quiet.

They’d told him to avoid using magic in any obvious way, now that he was in territory patrolled by the Traitors. If they’d detected the barrier he’d raised both to protect himself and keep the air around him warm, they must have decided it wasn’t an obvious use of magic, as neither had commented on it. Though they had assured him that the Traitors would not attack him while he was with two of their people, he wasn’t about to gamble his life on it. Not after their encounter with Rasha.

They’d left the cart and the road a few hours before, and were travelling on foot across hills and valleys that grew rapidly more steep and stony. Neither woman spoke. Lorkin found he missed Chari ’s chatter and constant questions. Tyvara had grown more withdrawn the further they travelled. Her frowns made him feel vaguely guilty, but he wasn’t sure why.

She’s heading toward judgement by her people for killing one of their own, which wouldn’t be happening if she hadn’t saved my life.

Abruptly, Tyvara slowed and he pulled up short to avoid stumbling into her. Looking past her shoulder, he saw that, beyond a rise ahead, a group of people were standing before two small huts. They were watching as he, Tyvara and Chari approached.