The Ambassador’s Mission

They had been led to a changing room and left there. It was on the first floor, with cheap undecorated window screens hiding the customers from the street. After changing into the gowns, Gol had slipped out of the room to investigate those next to it and Cery had moved a chair to one of the windows. Cery slid the screen open and smiled in satisfaction as he saw that the pawnshop was within view.

The door opened again, but it was only Gol returning.

“What do you think?”

“There’s nobody in the rooms around us, but I can’t vouch for upstairs. We can talk, but quietly.” Then he grimaced. “It’s a bit run down.”

“And the service is slow,” Cery agreed. “Probably from lack of staff.” He indicated the window. “But the view is good.”

Gol moved closer and peered outside. “It sure is.”

“We should take it in turns. One watching while the other scrubs up.”

The big man grimaced. “The water better not be as bad as this place smells.” He moved another chair and sat down. “Did our friend say anything about how she intended to do her business?”

Cery shook his head. Sonea’s message had been cryptic, saying only that she would be dealing with the matter he had drawn her attention to, thanking him for the information and telling him to send any further news to the hospice. Clearly she was being cryptic in case the letter was intercepted. If she is dealing with the matter of the rogue then it’s unlikely she’s told the Guild anything. They wouldn’t trust her with the task of finding the woman.

A knock came from the door. Cery slid closed the screen back across the window.

“Come in,” he called.

The same thin young woman who had led them to the changing room opened the door and stepped inside. She did not meet their eyes.

“The bath is nearly ready. Would you like it warm or hot?”

“Hot,” Cery replied.

“Would you like it scented? We have-”

“No,” Gol interrupted firmly.

“Do you have a little salt?” Cery asked. He’d heard a salt bath was good for sore muscles, and he was still aching from the practice knife-fight bout he’d had that morning. It was also good for cleaning bad water, too.

“We do.” She named a price that raised Gol’s eyebrows.

“We’ll have it,” Cery told her.

The girl nodded politely and left the room. Turning to the window, Cery opened the screen again and glanced outside. The street was busier now.

“Should we convince Makkin the Buyer to help us?” Gol asked. “He’s already scared of her so it won’t make her suspicious if he acts a bit nervous.”

“He’s the sort that’ll cooperate with whoever he’s most scared of,” Cery replied. “If he knows she has magic he’ll be more scared of her than us.”

“She sent him out of the room before she opened the safe. That suggests to me he doesn’t know she has magic.”

“Yes, but…”

Gol hissed. Cery looked at the man and found him staring out of the window.

“What?”

“Is that her? In front of Makkin’s shop.”

Cery spun back to the window. A stooped woman had stopped in front of the shop. Her hair was streaked with grey. For a moment Cery was sure Gol was mistaken – so much so that he was about to tease him – then the woman turned her head to survey the street. He felt a shiver of recognition.

He looked at Gol. Gol stared at him. Then they both looked down at the wraps they were wearing.

“I’ll go,” Gol said. “You watch.” He leapt over to the pile of clothes he’d removed and hastily began to dress. Cery turned back to the window and watched as the woman entered the shop.

His heart was hammering. He felt every muscle in his body slowly tense, and counted every breath.

“She still in there?”

“Yes,” Cery replied. “Whatever you do, don’t let her see you’re following her. Even if you have to pay someone to-”

“I know, I know,” Gol said impatiently. Cery heard him open the door. At the same time he saw the door to the shop open and the woman stepped out.

“She’s leaving,” he said.

Gol didn’t reply. Cery turned to find the big man gone and the door swinging open. He looked back down into the street and caught a glimpse of the woman just before she moved out of view. A moment later Gol appeared. Cery breathed a sigh of relief as his friend and bodyguard headed in the same direction, his steps confident.

Take care, old friend, Cery thought.

“Um… sorry for the wait.”

He turned to find the bathhouse girl standing in the doorway. Her eyes shifted from him to the window screen then to the floor. Cery closed the screen and stood up.

“The bath is ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. My friend had to leave. Take me to the bath.”

Her shoulders drooped at the loss of a customer, then she gestured for him to follow and led him out of the room.

CHAPTER 18 THE TRAITOR

As the slave whimpered, his head squeezed between the large hands of Ashaki Tikako, Dannyl couldn’t help wincing. Though Dannyl had never had his mind read by a black magician, if the reaction of this man’s slaves was anything to go by, he gathered it wasn’t a pleasant experience.