Trudi Canavan - The Rogue

Cery and Gol stood at the far side of the small room, knives in hands, but smiling and unharmed. She sighed with relief.

“Looks like I arrived just in time,” she said, stepping inside and closing the door.

Cery smiled. “It was perfect timing,” he said. “Thanks.”

“The least I could do,” she replied. “So, do you want to stay here or make yourself scarce?”

He glanced at Gol, who was looking a little pale and very relieved. “I think we had better move on. Would you like to come with us?”

“Would I?” she asked in reply.

Cery grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t take you any place you won’t want anyone to see you in.” He tapped a foot and a trapdoor sprang up from the floor beside him.

Of course he’d have an escape route handy, though I doubt he’d have had a chance to use it if I hadn’t turned up.

Cery took a step toward the trapdoor, then paused and looked back at her appraisingly. “By the way,” he said. “Nice coat.”

Something was gripping Lorkin’s shoulder and shaking him. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring at a grinning Evar.

“What?” he asked, pushing away a heavy, cloying tiredness. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Evar assured him. “But if you don’t get up soon you’ll be late.”

Lorkin sat up and blinked at the empty beds around him. If most of the men were up and gone, he was already late. He groaned and rubbed his face, then got up.

“I wish you Traitors had time pieces,” he complained. “How am I supposed to wake up on time when you don’t have alarm gongs?”

“Some of the women have them. But here … what would we set them to?” Evar said, shrugging. “We all sleep and get up at different times.”

Lorkin sighed and started changing out of his bedclothes and into the simple trousers and shirt he liked best of all the Traitor styles of garb. Evar brought over a plate of bread covered with a layer of sweet fruit paste so thick that it must have broken the rules of winter rationing. Lorkin ate quickly, telling himself it was only so he could get to the Care Room faster, not to hide the evidence of Evar’s excess.

“Leota spoke to me last night,” Evar said between bites.

Lorkin paused and regarded his friend. The man’s expression was wistful.

“She said she enjoyed our evening together,” Evar continued, smiling faintly.

Chewing and then swallowing quickly, Lorkin fixed his friend with a stern stare.

“I’m sure she did.”

Evar looked at Lorkin and shrugged, his smile gone. “Oh, I know it’s more likely she means she enjoyed reaping the magical and political rewards, but there is a chance she wasn’t faking the other kind of enjoyment.”

“Are you tempted to find out?” Lorkin asked.

Evar shook his head. “Well, at least not until I feel like the cost is worth it again,” he added, then took another bite.

“You’d trust her again?” Lorkin was unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

“I never trusted her the first time,” Evar said, between chews. He paused to finish the mouthful. “I knew what might happen. There were going to be people who thought I should be punished for taking you to the caves. If they didn’t do it that way, they’d find another.” He grinned. “This way I got a bit of fun out of it. And while Leota may be opportunistic, she’s also got a great body.”

Lorkin stared at his friend, unable to decide what to say to this. I can hardly say “Evar, you’re not as stupid as I thought you were”. Nor would he like it if I told him he was as ruthless as the women. But he’s not been as powerless or clueless as he appeared to be. In fact, he may have been planning this since before our tour of the stone-makers’ caves.

“And if she did happen to enjoy more than gaining some magic and the satisfaction of punishing me, then maybe she will come back for more,” Evar added, his gaze turning misty again.

Or maybe he’s just making it up as he goes along , Lorkin amended. I still have to admire him for it. He seems to be able to find an upside to any situation.

“Better you than me,” Lorkin said. He dusted the crumbs off himself, then stretched. “Not that I’d have time. I’m off to the washrooms, then back to work.”

Evar grimaced. “I’ve heard things are getting bad there.”

Lorkin nodded. “It looked like the number of fever patients was easing off for a while, but then we got twice as many sick people arriving, and some of them are much sicker than before.”

“That happens every year.”

“So Kalia tells me. But I don’t believe everything Kalia says, in case she tries to trick me again.”

“Good idea,” Evar said, popping the last piece of bread in his mouth. He uttered a muffled farewell as Lorkin headed for the door.

The city seemed quieter than usual as Lorkin made his way to the washrooms, then on to the Care Room. Coughing echoed down the corridors and from behind closed doors. Only when he neared the Care Room did he realise that there was something he wasn’t hearing: the constant hum of voices throughout the city. When he finally heard the sound it was coming from the Care Room – from a queue of waiting patients extending into the corridor beyond the room’s entrance.

People saw him and scowled. Some glared. Others looked at him in a measuring way.

Kalia has no doubt been making it known that I’m late. He wasn’t that late, however. He’d made up time by bathing very quickly, which he hoped wasn’t going to make him unpleasant to be around. If only a good bath was all it took to make Kalia pleasant to be near.

Entering the room, his heart sank as he took in the sight and smell of so many sick people. Kalia saw him and immediately stalked across the room toward him. He braced himself for a scolding, but instead she grabbed his elbow and led him over to a couple hovering over a girl of about six years.

“Examine her,” she said. “Come and tell me your assessment.”

He looked at the parents and felt his heart sink even further. Both stared back at him with dark, desperate eyes and said nothing. Turning to the girl, he saw that she was pale, her breathing was laboured and when she coughed it was weakly, her lungs rattling with congestion.

He knew even before he touched her and sent his senses within that she was sicker than she ought to be. The chill fever always claimed a few Traitors each year. The old and the young were the most likely victims, and those already weakened from some other illness.

He also knew that he would have to face this at some point. Kalia had known it too. He had already decided what he would do. But he would not do it now. Not while all these people were watching him so closely.

And not, he realised, until he’d had a chance to ask Tyvara if he’d guessed correctly what the consequences would be.

* * *

As the Guild House slaves began serving dinner, Dannyl was surprised to hear Tayend’s voice in the corridor.

“Then I’ll join him,” Tayend said. A moment later he stepped into the main doorway of Dannyl’s rooms. “Would you like some company for dinner?”

Dannyl nodded and gestured to a nearby stool. He had feared that he and Tayend would have an argument or some sort of confrontation, but nothing of the sort had happened and so far they had settled into their new roles without any conflict. And perhaps, since Tayend was so often out visiting Sachakans, it made sense to take advantage of the chance to catch up on ambassadorial business.

“No Ashaki to visit tonight?”

Tayend sat down and shook his head. “I asked Achati for a night off. I’m surprised he didn’t invite you out instead.”