Trudi Canavan - The Ambassador's Mission

He turned back and smiled, but there was a hint of sadness and dissatisfaction in his expression. Perhaps there’s an honest man in there , Cery thought. If he didn’t expect roet to spread so fast, maybe he didn’t expect it to cause so much damage … but that isn’t going to convince me to get into the trade myself.

Skellin’s smile faded and was replaced by an earnest frown. “There are people out there who would like to take your place, Cery. Roet may be your best defence against them, as it was for me.”

“There are always people out there who want me gone,” Cery said. “I’ll go when I’m ready.”

The other Thief looked amused. “You truly believe you’ll get to choose the time and place?”

“Yes.”

“And your successor?”

“Yes.”

Skellin chuckled. “I like your confidence. Faren was as sure of himself, too. He was half right: he got to choose his successor.”

“He was a clever man.”

“He told me much about you.” Skellin’s gaze became curious. “How you didn’t become a Thief by the usual ways. That the infamous High Lord Akkarin arranged it.”

Cery resisted the urge to look at the statue. “All Thieves gain power through favours with powerful people. I happened to exchange favours with a very powerful one.”

Skellin’s eyebrows rose. “Did he ever teach you magic?”

A laugh escaped Cery. “If only!”

“But you grew up with Black Magician Sonea and gained your position with help from the former High Lord. Surely you would have picked up something.”

“Magic isn’t like that,” Cery explained. But surely he knows that. “You have to have the talent, and be taught to control and use it. You can’t pick it up by watching someone.”

Skellin put a finger to his chin and regarded Cery thoughtfully. “You do still have connections in the Guild, though, don’t you?”

Cery shook his head. “I haven’t seen Sonea in years.”

“How disappointing, after all you did – all the Thieves did – to help them.” Skellin smiled crookedly. “I’m afraid your reputation as a friend of magicians is nowhere near as exciting as the reality, Cery.”

“That’s the way with reputations. Usually.”

Skellin nodded. “So it is. Well, I have enjoyed our chat and made my offers. We have come to one understanding, at least. I hope we will come to another in time.” He stood up. “Thank you for meeting with me, Cery of Northside.”

“Thank you for the invitation. Good luck in catching the Thief Hunter.”

Skellin smiled, nodded politely, then turned and strolled back the way he had come. Cery watched him for a moment, then gave the statue another quick glance. It really wasn’t a good likeness.

“How did it go?” Gol murmured as Cery joined him.

“As I expected,” Cery replied. “Except …”

“Except?” Gol repeated when Cery didn’t finish.

“We agreed to share information on the Thief Hunter.”

“He’s real then?”

“So Skellin believes.” Cery shrugged. They crossed the road and began striding back toward Wildways. “That wasn’t the oddest thing, though.”

“Oh?”

“He asked if Akkarin taught me magic.”

Gol paused. “That isn’t that odd, though. Faren did hide Sonea before he handed her over to the Guild, in the hopes she would do magic for him. Skellin must have heard all about it.”

“Do you think he’d like to have his own pet magician?”

“Sure. Though he obviously wouldn’t want to hire you, seeing as you’re a Thief. Perhaps he thinks he can ask favours of the Guild through you.”

“I told him I hadn’t seen Sonea in years.” Cery chuckled. “Next time I see her, I might ask if she’ll help out one of my Thief friends, just to see the look on her face.”

A figure appeared in the alley ahead, hurrying toward them. Cery noted the possible exits and hiding places around them.

“You should tell her Skellin was making enquiries,” Gol advised. “He might try to recruit someone else. And it might work. Not all magicians are as incorruptible as Sonea.” Gol slowed. “That’s … That’s Neg.”

Relief that it wasn’t another attacker was followed by concern. Neg had been guarding Cery’s main hideout. He preferred it to roaming the streets, as open spaces made him jittery.

The guard had seen them. Neg was panting as he reached them. Something on his face caught the light, and Cery felt his heart drop somewhere far below the level of the street. A bandage.

“What is it?” Cery asked, in a voice he barely recognised as his.

“S … sorry,” Neg panted. “Bad news.” He drew in a deep breath, then let it out explosively and shook his head. “Don’t know how to tell you.”

“Say it,” Cery ordered.

“They’re dead. All of them. Selia. The boys. Never saw who. Got past everything. Don’t know how. No lock broken. When I came to …” As Neg babbled on, apologising and explaining, words running over themselves, a rushing sound filled Cery’s ears. His mind tried to find some other explanation for a moment. He must be mistaken. He’s hit his head and is delusional. He dreamed it.

But he made himself face the likely truth. What he had dreaded – had nightmares over – for years had happened.

Someone had made it past all the locks and guards and protections, and murdered his family.

CHAPTER 2

QUESTIONABLE CONNECTIONS

It was much earlier than her usual waking time. Dawn was still some hours away. Sonea blinked in the darkness and wondered what had woken her. A dream? Or had something real brought her to this state of sudden alertness in the middle of the night?

Then she heard a sound, faint but undeniable, in the next room.

Heart beating fast, the skin of her scalp tingling, she rose and silently moved to the bedroom door. She heard a footfall beyond, then another. Taking hold of the handle, she drew magic, threw up a shield and took a deep breath.

The handle turned silently. She pulled the door inward slightly and looked beyond. In the faint moonlight filtering through the window screens she saw a figure pacing the guestroom. Male, short of stature, and instantly familiar. Relief flooded through her.

“Cery,” she said, pulling the door open. “Who else would dare sneak into my rooms in the middle of the night?”

He turned to face her. “Sonea …” He drew in a deep breath, but said nothing more. A long pause followed and she frowned. It was not like him to hesitate. Had he come to ask a favour he knew she would not like?

She concentrated and created a small globe light, enough to fill the room with a soft glow. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. His face was so lined. The years of danger and worry living as a Thief had aged him faster than anyone else she knew.

I’m wearing plenty of signs of my years , she thought, but the battles for me were only the petty squabbling of magicians, not surviving in the uncompromising and often cruel underworld.

“So … what brings you to the Guild in the middle of the night?” she asked, stepping into the guest room.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “You never ask me how I get here without being noticed.”

“I don’t want to know. I don’t want to risk anyone else finding out, in the unlikely event that I must allow someone to read my mind.”

He nodded. “Ah. How are things going here?”

She shrugged. “The same. Rich and poor novices squabbling. And now that some of the formerly poor novices have graduated and become magicians, we have squabbling on a new level. One we have to take seriously. In a few days we’ll be meeting to consider a petition to abolish the rule against novices and magicians associating with criminals or people of low repute. If it’s successful then I will no longer be breaking a rule talking to you.”