Trudi Canavan - The Magicians' Guild

“There are several groups of Thieves, aren’t there?”

“Yes,” Dannyl replied.

“Does this man you tried to contact speak for all of them?”

“I don’t know,” Dannyl admitted. “Perhaps not.”

Rothen turned to regard his friend.

“It wouldn’t hurt to find out, would it?”

Yaldin stared at Rothen, then slapped a hand to his forehead. “You two are going to get us all in trouble,” he groaned.

Dannyl patted the old man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Yaldin. Only one of us need go.” He grinned at Rothen. “Leave it to me. In the meantime, let’s give the Thieves a reason to help us. I’d like to have a closer look at those underground passages we found yesterday. I’d wager that they’d prefer we had no reason to be snooping around down there.”

“I don’t like these underground rooms,” Donia said. “They got no windows. Makes me feel all creepy.”

Sonea frowned and scratched at the tiny bites that she had gained during the night. Her aunt regularly washed their beds and blankets with an infusion of herbs to rid them of bugs, and for once Sonea missed her aunt’s fastidious ways. She sighed and looked around the dusty room.

“I hope Cery won’t get in any rub for hiding me here.”

Donia shrugged. “He’s been doing stuff for Opia and the girls at the Dancing Slippers for years. They don’t mind you staying in their storeroom for a few days. His ma worked here, y’know.” Donia placed a large wooden bowl on the table in front of Sonea. “Put your head down.”

Sonea obeyed, and winced as icy cold water rushed over her head. After several rinses, Donia took the bowl away, now full of cloudy green water. She rubbed at Sonea’s hair with a threadbare towel before standing back and examining her work critically.

“Hasn’t done a thing,” Donia said, shaking her head.

Sonea lifted a hand to touch her hair. It was still sticky from the paste Donia had applied. “Nothing?”

Donia leaned closer and plucked at Sonea’s hair. “Well, it’s a bit lighter, but not that you’d see straight away.” She sighed. “It’s not like we can cut it much shorter. But...” she stepped back and shrugged. “If the magicians are out for a girl, like people are saying, they might not pick you, anyhow. You look like a boy with your hair like that, at least at the first look.” She put her hands on her hips and stepped back. “Why’d you cut it so short, then?”

Sonea smiled. “So I look like a boy. I don’t get hassled so much.”

“In the stayhouse?”

“No. I did most of the picking up and delivering for Jonna and Ranel. Ranel’s leg made him slow, and Jonna was better at the work. I hated being stuck in the stayhouse all the time, so I went instead.” Sonea grimaced. “The first time I had to deliver stuff to a merchant, I saw a couple of crafters and stablemen hassling a baker girl. I didn’t want to put up with that, so I started dressing and acting like a boy.”

Donia’s brows rose. “And it worked?”

“Most of the time.” Sonea smiled wryly. “Sometimes it doesn’t pay to look like a boy, either. I had a maid in love with me once! Another time I was cornered by a gardener and I was sure he’d worked out I was a girl, until he grabbed me. He nearly fainted, then he got all red-faced and made me promise not to tell. There’s all kinds out there.”

Donia chuckled. “The girls here call those men gold mines. Opia charges more for boys, because if the guard found out they’d hang her. No law against girls, though. Remember Kalia?”

Sonea nodded as she recalled the thin girl who had served in a bolhouse near the market.

“Turned out her father’s been selling her to customers for years,” Donia said, shaking her head. “His own daughter! Last year she ran away and started up with Opia. Says at least she sees some of the money this way. Makes you realize how lucky you are, doesn’t it? Father makes sure nobody hassles me more than what’s polite. The worst I’ve—”

She stopped and looked at the door, then hurried to the keyhole and peered through. A smile of relief lit her face and she opened the door.

Cery slipped into the room and handed Donia a bundle. He eyed Sonea critically.

“You don’t look any different.”

Donia sighed. “The dye didn’t work. Kyralian hair don’t change easy.”

He shrugged, then nodded at the bundle. “Brought you some clothes, Sonea.” He moved back to the door. “Knock when you’re done.”

As the door closed behind him, Donia picked up the bundle and unwrapped it.

“More boy’s clothes,” she sniffed, tossing a pair of trousers and a high-collared shirt to Sonea. She unfurled a long swathe of heavy black cloth and nodded. “Good cloak, though.”

Sonea changed into the clothes. As she swung the cloak about her shoulders, there was a rap on the door.

“We’re leaving,” Cery told them as he strode into the room. Harrin followed carrying a small lamp. Seeing their grim expressions, Sonea felt her heart skip a beat.

“They’re searching already?”

Cery nodded, then moved to an old wooden cupboard at the back of the room. Opening it, he pulled at the shelves inside. They swung forward smoothly, their contents shaking slightly. The back of the cupboard hinged inward to reveal a rectangle of darkness.

“They’ve been searching for a few hours,” Harrin told Sonea as she stepped through the hidden doorway into the passage.

“Already?”

“It’s easy to lose track of time down here,” he explained. “It’s mid-morning outside.”

Cery shooed Harrin and Donia through the doorway. Sonea heard the faintest squeak and a sliver of light escaped Harrin’s lamp to reveal the damp walls of the passage. Cery pulled the cupboard together, closed the secret door, and turned to Harrin.

“No light. I know my way better in the dark.”

The passage vanished as Harrin closed the shutter.

“No talking, either,” Cery told them. “Sonea, grab hold of my coat and put your other hand on the wall.”

She reached out and grasped the rough material of his long-coat. A hand touched her shoulder lightly. Their footsteps echoed in the passage as they started forward.

Not a ray of light illuminated their way as they groped through several turns. The faint echo of dripping water came and went, and returned again. Opia’s brothel was near the river, Sonea remembered, so the passages were probably below the level of the water. It was not a comforting thought.

Cery stopped and his longcoat slipped out of Sonea’s grip as he suddenly moved upward. She reached out and touched a rough, wooden board, then another. Anxious that she would lose Cery if she hesitated too long, she scurried up the ladder only to be rewarded by a kick from his boot. She bit back a curse and continued with more care. Behind her, she could hear Harrin and Donia’s shoes scuffing the wood faintly as they followed.

A paler square of black appeared above. She followed Cery through a trapdoor into a long, straight passage. Faint light filtered in through the occasional crack in the wall on one side. They walked along this for over a hundred paces when, just as they had almost reached the turn in the passage, Cery came to an abrupt halt.

The passage ahead had begun to glow, lit by a source of light somewhere beyond the turn. She could see Cery silhouetted against the wall. A distant voice, male and cultured, drifted to their ears.

“Ah! Another hidden passage. Come, we shall see how far it extends.”

“They’re in the passages!” Donia breathed.

Cery span around and waved frantically at Sonea. Not needing any urging, she turned to see Harrin and Donia tiptoeing back down the passage.

Though they walked as silently and quickly as they could, their footsteps sounded loud in the narrow space. Sonea strained her ears, expecting to hear a shout behind them any moment. Looking down, she saw her own shadow growing more distinct as the light behind them approached the turn.