The Ambassador’s Mission

Cery looked at the woman, who was watching him expectantly. “I’ll find somewhere safe for you all. Where is their father?” Both women scowled so fiercely Cery couldn’t help but laugh. “Never mind about that then.” He turned back to Sonea and ushered her to the door. “I bet you attracted a lot of attention on the way here.”

She laughed ruefully. “Yes. And the customers downstairs will be talking about it for months.”

“Might not be a bad thing,” Regin said, following her out of the door. “It will remind people who might be considering helping Skellin that you have powerful friends.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt if they thought you were still here. It will give us time to make plans before we leave. The more private way out goes through the kitchen and the side door.”

“We’ll go that way, then. Thanks for your help,” Sonea said. “And take care of yourselves.”

“I always do,” he called after them, as they strode down the corridor to the stairs. Closing the door, he turned back to regard the remaining occupants of the room. Looking at the children made his heart ache, and he pushed painful memories away. “Gol, take Forlie’s family downstairs and see if they’re hungry.”

“Right,” Gol replied. He beckoned, and they followed him out of the room. Cery returned to his chair and let out a sigh.

He looked at Anyi. She was frowning. It was not a worried frown, but a puzzled one.

“What is it?” he asked.

She looked at him, then away again. “Remember that magician at the Guild who was dressed the same as Sonea.”

“Yes. Black Magician Kallen.”

“He looked familiar. I didn’t recognise him at first because of the robes.”

“You’ve seen him without robes on?”

She looked up at him and laughed. “Not in the way you just put it. I didn’t get much of a look at what he was wearing the time I saw him.”

“What was he doing?” he asked.

A crease appeared between her brows, then her forehead smoothed and her mouth opened in a circle of revelation. “Ah! That’s it. I went with my friend one day to get rot. Not for me, of course.” Her eyes flicked up to his, serious and concerned. “In the middle of the dealing a carriage pulled up. The man inside wanted rot, and didn’t want to wait. I got a look at his face.”

“Kallen?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes.” Her eyes twinkled. “I take special note of anyone who looks like they might be doing something they shouldn’t.”

Cery snorted. “That’d be nearly everyone in the city.”

She grinned. “And in particular if it looks like what I learn about them might be useful some time,” she amended. “Do you think Sonea would be interested? Lots of magicians take rot, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, I think she’ll find this interesting,” Cery told her. “I think she’ll find this very interesting. It’ll be a good excuse to sneak into her hospice again. Or maybe I’ll wait until I have something useful to tell her about Skellin.” He looked at Anyi and grimaced. “We’re going to have to be real careful who we trust. Skellin has a lot of friends, and I doubt I’m one of them now. We’ve got to help find him without getting ourselves caught. Things are going to get wild.”

Anyi nodded, then smiled and rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? Nobody says things like ‘wild’ any more.”

EPILOGUE

With a final push of magic, Lorkin swept the last of the dust, hair, food scraps and unidentifiable particles into a small pile, then went to fetch a basket to dump it in.

A few weeks had passed since he’d taken up residence in the men’s room. It was a large room, filled with rows of narrow beds. Most were empty now, but from the possessions tucked under their frames it was clear nearly all had regular occupants. Though he knew most of the regulars’ names, there were a few who stayed for three or four days then disappeared for a few more that he’d not yet been introduced to.

“These beds are for men who don’t want to stay with their family any more, and who haven’t paired with a woman,” Vytra had told him. “There isn’t space for everyone to have their own room.”

“Are there women’s rooms?” Lorkin had asked.

“Sort of.” She had shrugged. “Sometimes friends and sisters share rooms.”

At first he’d been a novelty to the male Traitors, subjected to plenty of questions about Kyralia, how he had come to Sanctuary, and what he planned to do there. The latter he could not answer to their satisfaction. He could hardly tell them about his interest in Tyvara, and they scoffed at his plans to negotiate links between their people and the Allied Lands.

“You’re a magician,” one had pointed out. “Surely you’ll be given something to do that involves magic.”