Trudi Canavan - The Rogue

“What do you value?” Lilia asked.

Her friend tilted her head to the side as she considered. The lamplight set her profile glowing softly. She looks best at night , Lilia found herself thinking. It’s her natural time of day.

“Friendship,” Naki said. “Trust. Loyalty.” She leaned closer, her smile widening. “Love.” Lilia’s breath caught in her throat, but her friend leaned away again. “You?”

Lilia breathed in, then out, but her head was spinning. And we haven’t even started on the roet. “The same,” she said, afraid she was taking too long to answer. Love? Is it possible? Do I love Naki? I definitely have more fun when I’m with her, and there’s something about her that’s both exciting and a bit scary.

Naki was staring at her intently. She said nothing; she just stared. Then a knock came from the door. Naki looked away and opened it with magic. Lilia felt a warring relief and disappointment as the serving woman brought in a tray carrying a bottle of wine, goblets and an ornate box.

“Ah!” Naki said eagerly, ignoring the serving woman’s bow and retreat. She picked up the box and dumped a handful of the contents into the brazier. A flame flared among the coals, no doubt fired by Naki’s magic, and smoke began to curl into the air.

Lilia busied herself opening and pouring the wine. She handed a goblet to Naki as the girl returned to the seat. Naki lifted the glass.

“What should we dedicate the wine to?” she asked. “Well, of course: trust, loyalty and love.”

“Trust, loyalty and love,” Lilia repeated. They both sipped the wine.

A comfortable silence fell between them. The smoke from the brazier wafted across the room. Naki leaned forward and breathed deeply. Chuckling, Lilia did the same, feeling as if her thoughts were knotted muscles slowly loosening and unravelling. She leaned back in the chair and sighed.

“Thank you,” she found herself saying.

Naki turned to smile at her. “You like it here? I thought you might.”

Lilia looked around and shrugged. “It’s all right. I was thanking you for … for … for making me less wound up, and showing me how to have fun, and … just being good company.”

Naki’s smile faded and was replaced by a thoughtful look. Then a familiar glint of mischief entered her eyes, and Lilia could not help bracing herself. Whenever her friend got that look, what followed was likely to be surprising, and not a little confronting.

This time Naki leaned in and quickly but firmly kissed Lilia.

Lips warm and tingling, Lilia stared at her friend in astonishment and, she was all too aware, hope. Her heart was racing. Her mind spun. That was certainly surprising , she thought. But, like everything Naki does, not as confronting as it seemed it might be.

Slowly, deliberately, Naki did it again, only this time she did not move away. A rush of sensations and thoughts went through Lilia, all of them pleasant and none that could be explained away by the roet smoke or the wine. The wine … She was still holding the goblet and wanted not to be. I think … Naki’s arm had snaked around her waist and she wanted to reach out to her friend – should I still call Naki “friend” after tonight? Leaning to one side, she tried to set the goblet on the floor. I think I am in love.

But she must have set the glass on an uneven surface, for she heard a clunk and slosh as it fell over.

Uh, oh , she thought. But though she did not make a sound, she heard a faint voice utter it for her. A voice coming from the direction of the fireplace.

That’s strange.

She could not help herself. Tilting her head, she looked at the fireplace. Somewhere within the cavity something flickered. Looking closer, she got the strangest impression that something blinked at her.

Someone is watching us.

A shiver of horror ran down her spine and she pushed Naki back a little.

“What is it?” Naki said, her voice even more deep and throaty than usual.

“I saw …” Lilia shook her head, tore her eyes away from the fireplace, which looked dark and ordinary now, and looked at Naki. “I … I don’t think I like this place after all. It doesn’t seem very … private.”

Naki searched her gaze, then smiled. “Fair enough. Let’s finish the wine and get out of here.”

“I spilled mine …”

“Don’t worry.” Naki leaned down and picked up the goblet. “They’re used to little accidents happening here, though usually when the customers are a bit more inebriated than we are.” She refilled the goblet, then held it out to Lilia and smiled. “To love.”

Lilia smiled back, feeling the buoyant, exhilarating mood return and her earlier discomfort fade.

“To love.”

The small girl sitting on the edge of the bed was coughing hard, pausing only to take a gasping breath. As Lorkin gave cure-laced sweets and Kalia’s instructions to her mother – a magician who, he knew, was aligned with Kalia’s faction – the girl looked up at him. He saw in her eyes a pity quite different to the sympathy he felt for her. She pities me? Why would she pity me ?

The mother nodded, took her daughter’s hand and moved away. He watched as she walked over to Kalia. Though it had happened before, with other patients, he still felt his stomach sink.

Kalia was busy and he didn’t care to watch as the woman checked what he’d told her. He moved on to the next patient, an old woman with dark circles under her eyes and a more concerning, wrenching cough. Now that the chill fever had spread through the city, the Care Room was busy night and day, and Kalia had been forced to involve him in the treating of it. Most Traitors accepted this without question, but now and then someone could not bring themself to trust him – or pretended not to, in order to needle him.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Kalia said loudly. The old woman’s eyes flickered away and then back to Lorkin.

“She means you,” she muttered.

Lorkin nodded. “Thanks.” He straightened and turned to find Kalia striding toward him. One hand was clasped around something, and she brandished it at him. The mother and daughter trailed behind.

“I told you no more than four a day!” she declared. “Do you want to poison this child?”

Lorkin looked down at the girl, who was grinning widely, excited by the scene she was a part of.

“Or course not,” he replied. “Who could ever harm such a pretty child?” The girl’s smile faltered. She liked to be flattered, he guessed, but knew her mother would not like her to respond in a friendly way. Not knowing what to do, she looked up at her mother, then frowned and regarded him suspiciously. “I did wonder why you told me to give her more sweets than the other children,” he added, unable to resist hinting that Kalia might be favouring her friends with more of the limited supply of cures.

“I did not tell you to give her six!” Kalia’s voice rose to a higher note.

“Actually, you did,” a huskier voice replied.

Startled by the new voice, Lorkin turned to look at the old woman, who gazed back at Kalia unflinchingly. He felt a small surge of hope. However, if Kalia was dismayed she was hiding it well. She looked as if she was humbly thinking back on her instructions, but her eyes were dark and calculating.

Whoever the old woman was, she was influential enough that Kalia hadn’t dared to claim she was hard of hearing, or mistaken. Lorkin decided he had to learn the identity of this unexpected ally, as soon as he was free to.

“Perhaps you are right,” Kalia said, smiling. “We have been so busy here. We are all tired. I am sorry,” she said to the old woman, then she whirled around to face the mother and daughter. “I apologise. Here …” She gave them the sweets and prattled away as she herded the pair toward the door.