The Ambassador’s Mission

He shook his head. “We need him and his shop for another trap.” His eyes gleamed. “Only next time you’ll be with me and we’ll catch ourselves a rogue.”

Sonea frowned. “I wish that were possible, but I’m not free to go running around the city these days, Cery. I must ask permission, if I am not going to the hospices.”

His shoulders sagged in almost childlike disappointment. He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps if I lured her here somehow.”

“I doubt she’ll go anywhere near Guild magicians, and hospices are always full of them.”

“Unless you arrange for everyone to leave one night, and we put about a rumour that there are books on Healing lying around here.”

“I’d have to tell them why, and if I do that I may as well just tell the Guild about the rogue and leave it to them to find her.”

“Can’t you come up with another reason?”

Sonea sighed. She doubted that Cery cared if he wasn’t credited with finding a rogue and helping the Guild to catch her. He only wanted revenge – and no doubt to save himself from being the Thief Hunter’s next victim.

I’d like to help him. But the Guild will expect me to pass news about the rogue on to them, and if it is discovered that I didn’t it’ll be yet another reason for people to distrust me. Her flawless record of trustworthiness since the Ichani Invasion would be tainted by the lie, and people were already so touchy about her past and knowledge of black magic. They would curb her freedom to run the hospices. They’d restrict her to the Guild grounds.

I’m better off passing the information on to the Higher Magicians and letting them deal with it. It doesn’t matter if it’s me or someone else who finds the rogue, only that she is found. Either way, Cery will have both revenge and safety.

“Do you know where the woman is now?” she asked.

Cery shook his head. “But I know what she looks like, and her appearance is strange enough that I can set others looking for her too.”

“Don’t let anyone approach her,” she warned. “She’s clearly in control of her powers, and old enough to have some skill in using them.”

“Oh, she’s nothing like you were,” Cery agreed, his lips stretching into a humourless grin. “You might’ve wanted to kill a Thief or two all those years ago, but you never got to the point of hunting them down and… or…” He looked away, his expression suddenly grim.

… or killing their families, she finished silently, feeling a pang of sympathy. “I need to think about this, but I’ll probably have to tell the Guild and leave the hunt to them.”

“No!” he protested. “They’ll just bungle it like they did with you.”

“Or they’ll take what they learned from that experience and tackle this case differently.”

He scowled. “A lot differently, I hope.”

“Are you willing to work with them?” she asked, meeting and holding his gaze.

He grimaced, then sighed. “Maybe. Yes. I guess I have to. Don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Not really. Tell me how they can contact you.”

Cery sighed. “Could you… sleep on it before telling anyone?”

She smiled. “All right. I’ll decide before tonight’s shift. Either you’ll hear from me or the Guild will come knocking at your door.”

The kitchen slave’s eyes had gone round the moment he’d entered the room and spotted the corpse, and had remained wide through all Dannyl’s questions. Yet he answered calmly and without hesitation.

“When did you last see Tyvara?” Dannyl asked.

“Last night. I passed her in the corridor. She was heading for these rooms.”

“Did she say anything?”

“No.”

“Look any different to usual? Nervous, perhaps?”

“No.” The slave paused. “She looked angry, I think. It was dark.”

Dannyl nodded and noted the small detail. He had quite a list of them now, but then, he had been interviewing slaves for several hours.

“You said she and Riva knew each other. Did you ever see them arguing? Any odd behaviour?”

“They argued, yes. Tyvara told Riva what to do a lot. Riva didn’t like it. Tyvara had no right to. But,” the man shrugged, “it happens.”

“That some slaves order around others?”

The man nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you see them arguing any time yesterday, or hear of them arguing?”

The man opened his mouth to reply, but paused at a soft sound from the doorway. Dannyl looked up to see the door slave hovering nervously in the entrance. The man threw himself to the floor.

“You may rise. What did you come to tell me?” Dannyl asked.

“Ashaki Achati has arrived.” The slave was wringing his hands, as he had every time Dannyl had seen him since arriving home.

Dannyl turned to the kitchen slave he was interviewing. “You may go.”

Both slaves scurried away as Dannyl rose and tucked his notebook into his robes. He looked around Lorkin’s rooms, then strode out of them and made his way to the Master’s Room. He arrived just in time to meet Achati.

“Welcome, Ashaki Achati,” he said.

“Ambassador Dannyl,” Achati replied. “I’m afraid it took some time for your slave to track me down. What has happened? All he would tell me was that it was urgent.”

Dannyl beckoned. “Come and I’ll show you.”