Canavan Trudi - The Traitor Queen

Gol looked like he was about to argue, but then heaved a heavy sigh and nodded. Cery held back the roots so that Anyi could slip through. She moved slowly, lifting her lamp to examine the walls, roof and floor. The passage was in no worse condition than the one they had been following. Parts had deteriorated, but most still looked solid.

As they made their way along it, Cery wondered how Lilia’s conversation with Kallen had gone. They wouldn’t hear from her until the morning. Cery had decided that they should spend the night exploring the passages and considering where they might set their trap for Skellin. Anyi believed they should lure Skellin to the underground rooms near the University, so they could escape to the building. The rooms were the ones Cery had found Anyi and Lilia in. He felt his face warm as he remembered. In the whorehouse he’d grown up in, he’d known women who sought other women’s affections, some forming bonds that lasted many years. It had been one more of many ways that he’d seen people seek pleasure, companionship and love. Yet he also came to realise that he was living in a particularly tolerant world. Outside it were people who did not approve of anything different from their own experience and tastes. And not just people from the higher classes. The underworld was no better or worse.

I wonder if her mother knows. Vesta always enjoyed feeling that she was better than others. She was always looking for something to disapprove of in other people. Sometimes I think the only reason she wanted me was because I was a Thief. It made her feel more important than most other people. Well, it did for a while.

The last thing he wanted Anyi to feel was disapproved of. He certainly didn’t mind her being with Lilia but… He felt a small pang of envy. I once loved a Guild magician, but the only kind of love I got in return was friendship. He shook his head. That sounds peevish. Sonea’s friendship is no small thing, and I did find love elsewhere.

He wondered if Anyi had had many previous lovers, then remembered her story of the one who had betrayed her. Aha. That must be why I never found him. It wasn’t a “him”, it was a “her ”.

Anyi gave a little gasp. “Look!” she whispered.

The tunnel ended at a brick wall, but it was no ordinary wall. A familiar mechanism had been attached to the brickwork — the workings of a hidden door. Cery located a brass spy hole cover. It was stiff and green with age, but he was able to force it open. Looking through, he saw only darkness.

“Can’t see anything,” he said.

“Do you want to try opening it?” Anyi asked.

Cery considered. If he let his imagination go where it pleased, it conjured up dangerous prisoners or incarcerated monsters waiting for the chance to be free — killing anything that stood in their path.

More likely it’s another old storeroom. Besides, there’s no lock preventing anyone opening the door from the other side, as far as I can see.

He nodded.

Anyi took the lever and hauled on it, but the door did not budge. Looking closely at the mechanism, Cery saw that it wasn’t rusted. There were black lumps around the joins. He poked at them. They were soft. Probably old oil or grease grown thick with time and dust. Cery took a turn pulling the lever, then they both put their strength into it, but with no effect.

“Go fetch Gol,” Cery said.

He peered through the spy hole again — even tried holding up the lamp and looking through at the same time, but saw nothing but darkness beyond the door. It occurred to him then that maybe the hole was blocked. Digging a pick out of his coat, he poked it through and confirmed there was a void on the other side.

Maybe it’s a trap, set up by Akkarin or someone else long ago. Perhaps for the same reason we want to set traps: to fool and stop pursuers. Who knows what reasons the Guild had, in the past, to dig these tunnels.

The sound of two sets of footsteps approached behind him and he turned. Gol rolled his eyes as he saw the door.

“Can’t leave a mystery unsolved, can you?” he rumbled.

Cery shrugged. With a roll of his eyes, Gol moved to the door and grasped the handle. He pulled once, paused to examine the mechanism, then took the handle again.

“Be careful: you don’t want to pull that wound open,” Anyi said.

Gol stepped back from the lever, then cast about. He moved back down the passage for a short distance and picked something up. As he returned, Cery saw that it was a brick.

“That’ll make a lot of-”

The clang that filled the passage as Gol struck the mechanism was painfully loud.

“-noise,” Anyi finished.

But the shock appeared to have done what Gol intended: break the seal of the old oil. The lever now flexed under his hand. Cery felt his heart beat a little faster as the door swung open. It was heavy: the other side was covered with thin bricks and mortar. The door formed the back of an alcove.

As the light of the lamps penetrated the darkness it illuminated old wooden cupboards and tables. Cery felt his heart sink with disappointment. He wasn’t sure what he had been hoping to see. Hidden treasure, maybe? A better place to hide?

They moved inside the room. As the light of all three lamps filled the space, Cery felt apprehension replace his earlier anticipation. The room was clean. There was no dust or rubble. He moved to one of the tables. It was covered in small pots. Each contained earth and a tiny plant.

“Are we at the fa-” Gol began.

“Quiet!” Anyi gasped.

Cery and Gol turned to see that she was peering up a narrow staircase, holding her lamp away from the well so that its light wouldn’t penetrate. They moved closer and, as they joined her, heard voices above. There was the creak of a handle being turned.

Without another word, they fled into the tunnel, Gol pulling the door closed behind him. Cery’s heart was beating so quickly his chest hurt. Anyi put her eye to the spy hole and Gol set his ear to the door. Amused, Cery gently pulled a silently protesting Anyi aside and took her place at the spy hole.

The room beyond was no longer dark. Something bright was moving down the stairwell. He felt a wry relief as he saw a magical globe of light appear, then two magicians descend into view. One was an old woman, the other a young man.

“What’s happening,” Anyi murmured.

“Magicians. They’re looking around the room. Can you hear them, Gol?”

“Faintly.” The big man replied. “One said he thought he heard something. The other agreed.”

The two magicians shook their heads and walked toward the tables. The male one picked up a plant, then put it down with obvious careless anger.

“The old woman asked something. The young one says he’s sure,” Gol reported. He paused, and Cery could hear the faint sound of voices. He signalled for silence, then pressed his ear to the door.

“So we’ve been tricked,” the woman said. She didn’t sound surprised.

“Yes, as you suspected we would be,” the younger magician replied. “If you smoked this… this common garden weed, you’d get nothing but a headache.”

“Well, we knew getting hold of roet would not be easy.”

Roet? Cery felt something hot race through his veins. The Guild wants to grow roet?

“We’ll just have to keep trying,” the woman continued. “Skellin must be growing it somewhere — and growing a lot. Eventually someone will betray him, if we offer enough money.”

“All we need are a few seeds.”

“I wish that we didn’t need any.”

The voices were growing quieter. Cery put his eye to the spy hole again and watched them ascend the stairs, the magic light rising ahead of them. When all light disappeared abruptly, he guessed that the door above the stairs had been closed. He pulled away from the spy hole, closing its cover, and described what he’d heard to Anyi and Gol.