The Ambassador’s Mission: Book One of the Traitor Spy Trilogy (2 page)

The quieter guard’s indrawn breath earned a glance from his superior. Cery watched the men, amused to find them both trying – and failing – to hide their dismay and fear. He’d been told to give them this information, and though it was a ridiculous claim the guard appeared to believe him. Or, more likely, understood that it was a coded message.

The taller guard straightened. “On your way then. And … safe journey.”

Cery turned away and, with Gol following a step behind, continued across the street. He wondered if the message had told them exactly who Cery was meeting, or if it only told the guard that whoever spoke the phrase wasn’t to be detained or delayed.

Either way, he doubted he and Gol had chanced upon the only corrupted guard on the street. There had always been guards willing to work with the Thieves, but now the layers of corruption were stronger and more pervasive than ever. There were honest, ethical men in the Guard who strove to expose and punish offenders in their ranks, but it was a battle they had been losing for some time now.

Everyone is caught up in infighting of one form or another. The Guard is fighting corruption, the Houses are feuding, the rich and poor novices and magicians in the Guild bicker constantly, the Allied Lands can’t agree on what to do about Sachaka, and the Thieves are at war with each other. Faren would have found it all very entertaining.

But Faren was dead. Unlike the rest of the Thieves, he had died of a perfectly normal lung infection during winter five years ago. Cery hadn’t spoken to him for years before that. The man Faren had been grooming to replace him had taken the reins of his criminal empire with no contest or bloodshed. The man known as Skellin.

The man Cery was meeting tonight.

As Cery made his way through the smaller, lingering portion of the split Wildways neighbourhood, ignoring the calls of whores and betting boys, he considered what he knew of Skellin. Faren had taken in his successor’s mother when Skellin was only a child, but whether the woman had been Faren’s lover or wife, or had worked for him, was unknown. The old Thief had kept them close and secret, as most Thieves had to do with loved ones. Skellin had proven himself a talented man. He had taken over many underworld enterprises, and started more than a few of his own, with few failures. He had a reputation for being clever and uncompromising. Cery did not think Faren would have approved of Skellin’s utter ruthlessness. Yet the stories most likely had been embellished during retellings, so there was no guessing how deserving the man’s reputation was.

There was no animal Cery knew of called a “Skellin”. Faren’s successor had been the first new Thief to break with the tradition of using animal names. It didn’t necessarily mean “Skellin” was his real name, of course. Those who believed it was thought him brave for revealing it. Those who didn’t, didn’t care.

A turn into another street brought them out into a cleaner part of the area. Cleaner only in appearance, however. Behind the doors of these solid, well-maintained houses lived more affluent whores, fences, smugglers and assassins. The Thieves had learned that the Guard – stretched too thin – didn’t look much deeper if outward appearances were respectable. And the Guard, like certain wealthy men and women from the Houses with dubious business connections, had also learned to distract the city’s do-gooders from their failure to deal with the problem with donations to their pet charity projects.

Which included the hospices run by Sonea, still a hero to the poor even if the rich only spoke of Akkarin’s efforts and sacrifices in the Ichani Invasion. Cery often wondered if she guessed how much of the money donated to her cause came from corrupt sources. And if she did, did she care?

He and Gol slowed as they reached the intersection of streets named in the directions Cery had been sent. At the corner was a strange sight.

A patch of green sprinkled with bright colour filled the space where a house had once been. Plants of all sizes grew among the old foundations and broken walls. All were illuminated by hundreds of hanging lamps. Cery chuckled quietly as he finally remembered where he’d heard the name “Sunny House” before. The house had been destroyed during the Ichani Invasion, and the owner could not afford to rebuild it. He’d bunkered down in the basement of the ruin, and spent his days encouraging his beloved garden to take over – and the local people to enter and enjoy it.

It was a strange place for Thieves to be meeting, but Cery could see advantages. It was relatively open – nobody could approach or listen in without being noticed – and yet public enough that any fight or attack would be witnessed, which would hopefully discourage treachery and violence.

The instructions had said to wait beside the statue. As Cery and Gol entered the garden, they saw a stone figure on a plinth in the middle of the ruins. The statue was carved of black stone veined with grey and white. It was of a cloaked man, facing east but looking north. Drawing near, Cery realised there was something familiar about it.

It’s supposed to be Akkarin
, he recognised with a shock.
Facing the Guild but looking toward Sachaka
. Moving closer he examined the face.
Not a good likeness, though.

Gol made a low noise of warning and Cery’s attention immediately snapped back to his surroundings. A man was walking toward them, and another was trailing behind.

Is this Skellin? He is definitely foreign.
But this man was not from any race that Cery had encountered. The stranger’s face was long and slim, his cheek bones and chin narrowing to a point. This made his surprisingly curvaceous mouth appear to be too large for his face. But his eyes and angular brows were in proportion – almost beautiful. His skin was darker than the typical Elyne or Sachakan colouring, but rather than the blue-black of a typical Lonmar it had a reddish tinge. His hair was a far darker shade of red than the vibrant tones common among the Elynes.

He looks like he’s fallen into a pot of dye, and it hasn’t quite washed out yet
, Cery mused.
I’d say he is about twenty-five.

“Welcome to my home, Cery of Northside,” the man said, with no trace of a foreign accent. “I am Skellin. Skellin the Thief or Skellin the Dirty Foreigner depending on who you talk to and how intoxicated they are.”

Cery wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Which would you rather I call you?”

Skellin’s smile broadened. “Skellin will do. I am not fond of fancy titles.” His gaze shifted to Gol.

“My bodyguard,” Cery explained.

Skellin nodded once at Gol in acknowledgement, then turned back to Cery. “May we talk privately?”

“Of course,” Cery replied. He nodded at Gol, who retreated out of earshot. Skellin’s companion also retreated.

The other Thief moved to one of the low walls of the ruin and sat down. “It is a shame the Thieves of this city don’t meet and work together any more,” he said. “Like in the old days.” He looked at Cery. “You knew the old traditions and followed the old rules once. Do you miss them?”

Cery shrugged. “Change goes on all the time. You lose something and you gain something else.”

One of Skellin’s elegant eyebrows rose. “Do the gains outweigh the losses?”

“More for some than others. I’ve not had much profit from the split, but I still have a few understandings with other Thieves.”

“That is good to hear. Do you think there is a chance we might come to an understanding?”

“There’s always a chance.” Cery smiled. “It depends on what you’re suggesting we understand.”

Skellin nodded. “Of course.” He paused and his expression grew serious. “There are two offers I’d like to make to you. The first is one I’ve made to several other Thieves, and they have all agreed to it.”

Cery felt a thrill of interest.
All of them? But then, he doesn’t say how many “several” is.

“You have heard of the Thief Hunter?” Skellin asked.

“Who hasn’t?”

“I believe he is real.”

“One person killed all those Thieves?” Cery raised his eyebrows, not bothering to conceal his disbelief.

“Yes,” Skellin said firmly, holding Cery’s gaze. “If you ask around – ask the people who saw something – there are similarities in the murders.”

I’ll have to have Gol look into it again
, Cery mused. Then a possibility occurred to him
. I hope Skellin doesn’t think that my helping High Lord Akkarin to find the Sachakan spies back before the Ichani Invasion means I can find this Thief Hunter for him. They were easy to spot, once you knew what to look for. The Thief Hunter is something else.

“So … what you want to do about him?”

“I’d like your agreement that if you hear anything about the Thief Hunter you will tell me. I understand that many Thieves aren’t talking to each other, so I offer myself as a recipient of information about the Thief Hunter instead. Perhaps, with everyone’s cooperation, I’ll get rid of him for you all. Or, at the least, be able to warn anyone if they are going to be attacked.”

Cery smiled. “That last bit is a touch optimistic.”

Skellin shrugged. “Yes, there is always the chance a Thief won’t pass on a warning if he knows the Thief Hunter is going to kill a rival. But remember that every Thief removed is one less source of information that could lead to us getting rid of the Hunter and ensuring our own safety.”

“They’d be replaced quick enough.”

Skellin frowned. “By someone who might not know as much as their predecessor.”

“Don’t worry.” Cery shook his head. “There’s nobody I hate enough to do that to, right now.”

The other man smiled. “So are we in agreement?”

Cery considered. Though he did not like the sort of trade Skellin was in, it would be silly to turn down this offer. The only information the man wanted related to the Thief Hunter, nothing more. And he was not asking for a pact or promise – if Cery was unable to pass on information because it would compromise his safety or business, nobody could say he’d broken his word.

“Yes,” he replied. “I can do that.”

“We have an understanding,” Skellin said, his smile broadening. “Now let me see if I can make that two.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m sure you know the main product that I import and sell.”

Not bothering to hide his distaste, Cery nodded. “Roet. Or ‘rot’, as some call it. Not something I’m interested in. And I hear you have it well in hand.”

Skellin nodded. “I do. When Faren died he left me a shrinking territory. I needed a way to establish myself and strengthen my control. I tried different trades. Roet supply was new and untested. I was amazed at how quickly Kyralians took to it. It has proven to be very profitable, and not just for me. The Houses are making a nice little income from the rent on the brazier houses.” Skellin paused. “You could be gaining from this little industry, too, Cery of Northside.”

“Just call me Cery.” Cery let his expression grow serious. “I am flattered, but Northside is home to people mostly too poor to pay for roet. It’s a habit for the rich.”

“But Northside is growing more prosperous, thanks to your efforts, and roet is getting cheaper as more becomes available.”

Cery resisted a cynical smile at the flattery.

“Not quite enough yet. It would stop growing if roet was brought in too soon and too fast.”
And if I could manage it, we’d have no rot at all.
He’d seen what it did to men and women caught up in the pleasure of it – forgetting to eat or drink, or to feed their children except to dose them with the drug to stop their complaints of hunger.
But I’m not foolish enough to think I can keep it away forever. If I don’t provide it, someone else will. I will have to find a way to do so without causing too much damage.
“There will be a right time to bring roet to Northside,” Cery said. “And when that time comes I’ll know who to come to.”

“Don’t leave it too long, Cery,” Skellin warned. “Roet is popular because it is new and fashionable, but eventually it will be like bol – just another vice of the city, grown and prepared by anybody. I’m hoping that by then I’ll have established new trades to support myself with.” He paused and looked away. “One of the old, honourable Thief trades. Or perhaps even something legitimate.”

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.”