Trudi Canavan - The Ambassador's Mission

Let’s not think too much about that , he told himself.

He heard voices and footsteps in the stairwell outside the room, coming closer. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the doorway. There was a moment of silence, then a familiar male voice said something encouraging, and a single pair of footsteps continued.

As she peered around the doorway, Cery considered smiling, but knew that he would not be able to find enough genuine good humour for it to be convincing. He settled on returning her stare with what he hoped was a welcoming seriousness.

She blinked, her eyes widened, then she scowled and strode into the room.

“You!” she said. “I might’ve guessed it’d be you.”

Her eyes were ablaze with anger and accusation. She stopped a few steps away. He did not flinch at her stare, though it stirred a familiar guilt.

“Yes. Me,” he said. “Sit down. I need to talk to you.”

“Well I don’t want to talk to you!” she declared and turned to leave.

“As if you have any choice.”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. Slowly she turned to face him, crossing her arms.

“What do you want?” she asked, then sighed dramatically. He almost smiled at that. The sullen resignation laced with contempt was what many a father endured from youngsters her age. But her resignation came more from the knowledge he was a Thief, not any respect for fatherly authority.

“To warn you. Your life is … in even more danger than it usually is. There’s a good chance someone will try to kill you soon.”

Her expression did not change. “Oh? Why is that?”

He shrugged. “The mere unfortunate fact that you are my daughter.”

“Well, I’ve survived that well enough so far.”

“This is different. This is a lot … wilder.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nobody uses that word any more.”

“Then I am a nobody.” He frowned. “I am serious, Anyi. Do you think I’d risk our lives by meeting with you if I wasn’t sure not meeting could be worse?”

All contempt and anger fled from her face, but left her with no expression he could read. Then she looked away.

“Why are you so sure?”

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Because my wife and sons are dead. Pain swelled within him at the thought. I’m not sure I can say it aloud. He cast about, then took another deep breath.

“Because, as of last night, you are my only living child,” he told her.

Her eyes slowly widened as the news sank in. She swallowed and closed her eyes. For a moment she remained still, a crease between her brows, then she opened her eyes and fixed him with her stare again.

“Have you told Sonea?”

He frowned at the question. Why had she asked? Her mother had always been a touch jealous of Sonea, perhaps sensing that he had once been in love with the slum girl turned magician. Surely Anyi hadn’t inherited Vesta’s jealousy. Or did Anyi know more about Cery’s continuing and secret link to the Guild than she ought to?

How to answer such a question? Should he answer at all? He considered changing the subject, but found himself curious to know how she would react to the truth.

“I have,” he told her. Then he shrugged. “Along with other information.”

Anyi nodded and said nothing, giving frustratingly little away of her reason for asking. She sighed and shifted her weight to one leg.

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Is there somewhere safe you can go? People you trust? I’d offer to protect you except … well, let’s just say it turned out your mother made the right decision leaving me and …” He heard bitterness in his voice and shifted to other reasons. “My own people may have been turned. It would be better if you did not rely on them. Except Gol, of course. Though … it would be wise if we had a way of contacting each other.”

She nodded and he was heartened to see her straighten with determination. “I’ll be fine,” she told him. “I have … friends.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. That was all she was going to tell him, he guessed. Wise move.

“Good,” he said. He stood up. “Take care, Anyi.”

She regarded him thoughtfully, and for a moment the corner of her mouth twitched. He felt a sudden rush of hope that she understood why he had kept away from her all these years.

Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room without waiting for permission or saying goodbye.

CHAPTER 4

NEW COMMITMENTS

The trees and shrubs of the Guild gardens cooled and slowed the late summer wind to a pleasant breeze. Within one of the garden “rooms,” well shaded by a large ornamental pachi tree, Lorkin and Dekker sat on one of the seats arranged here and there for magicians to rest on. As the last shreds of his hangover began to ease, Lorkin leaned back against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. The sound of birds mingled with that of distant voices and footsteps – and the shrill sound of taunts and protests somewhere behind him.

Dekker turned to look at the same time as Lorkin. Behind them was a screen of shrubs and trees, so they both stood up to peer over the top of the foliage. Over the other side, four boys had surrounded another and were pushing their victim about.

“Stu-pid lo-wie,” they sang. “Got no fam-ly. Al-ways gri-my. Al-ways smel-ly.”

“Hai!” Dekker shouted. “Stop that! Or I’ll get you volunteered to help in the hospices.”

Lorkin grimaced. His mother had never been happy with Lady Vinara’s idea of punishing novices by making them help in the hospices. She said they’d never consider the work worthwhile or noble if they were expected to want to avoid it. But she never had enough volunteers, so she couldn’t bring herself to protest. Some of those sent to her for punishing had actually chosen the healing discipline because working with her had inspired them, but they were mocked quietly by their fellow novices.

The novices muttered apologies and fled in different directions. As Lorkin and Dekker sat down again, two magicians appeared in the entrance to the garden room.

“Ah! I thought I heard your voice, Dekker,” Reater said. Perler’s worried frown faded as he recognised his brother’s friends. “Mind if we join you?”

“Not at all,” Dekker said, gesturing to the opposite bench seat.

Lorkin looked from one brother to another, wondering at the reason for the frown Perler had been wearing. Reater seemed far too glad to have stumbled upon them.

“Perler got some bad news this morning,” Reater said. He turned to his brother. “Tell them.”

Perler glanced at Reater. “Not bad for you, I hope.” His brother shrugged and did not answer, so he sighed and looked at Dekker. “Lord Maron has quit. It’s going to take longer than he thought to fix his family’s troubles. So I’m not going back to Sachaka.”

“You don’t get to assist the new Ambassador?” Lorkin asked.

Perler shrugged. “I could if I wanted to. But …” He looked at his brother. “I have a few family matters to take care of, too.”

Reater winced.

“So who is going to replace him?” Dekker wondered.

“Someone said Lord Dannyl has applied.” Reater grinned. “Perhaps he wants to check out the local—”

“Reater,” Perler said sternly.

“What? Everyone knows he’s a lad.”

“Which doesn’t make it funny when you make crude jokes about it. Grow up and get over it.” He rolled his eyes. “Besides, Lord Dannyl won’t want to go. He’s too busy researching that book of his.”

Lorkin felt his heart skip. “He told me last night that his research was going slowly. Maybe … maybe he’s hoping to do some research there.”