The Ambassador’s Mission: Book One of the Traitor Spy Trilogy (40 page)

“Yes.”

Chari nodded and sighed. “Riva was a troublemaker. If anyone was going to give you reason, she would.”

Tyvara shook her head. “If there had been any other way …”

“Well, good for you for not denying it. What are your plans?”

“To go home and sort this out.”

Chari’s gaze shifted to Lorkin and moved from his head to his feet and back again. “What about him?”

Lorkin decided to ignore that he was being discussed as if he wasn’t there. He inclined his head politely. “Honoured to meet you, Chari of the Traitors.”

The woman grinned and walked over to face him. “I like him. Honoured to meet you, too, Lorkin of the Guild.”

“He has offered to return with me, to speak in my defence at the trial.” Tyvara’s words were quiet.

Chari’s eyebrows rose. “And are you wanting to go with her?” she asked of him.

“Yes.”

Her expression became both approving and appraising. “You’re a brave man. Are you going to give us what your father didn’t?”

“We’ll discuss that when we get there,” Tyvara replied before he could respond.

The young woman chuckled. “I’m sure you will. Of course, that’s not what’s supposed to happen,” she told him. “You’re supposed to be returned to Arvice. We’re certainly not meant to bring you back to our secret home. I’ll have to get permission for that.”

“How long will that take?” he asked.

Chari considered. “Six or seven days. We can shorten that by meeting Speaker Savara at the tanners’ huts.” She glanced at Tyvara. “Savara was Tyvara’s mentor – and mine – and is one of our leaders. If you still want to come to Sanctuary, you’ll have to talk her into taking you.”

“How would I best do that?”

Chari shrugged.

“With your usual charm and enthusiasm,” Tyvara told him. “Don’t make any promises, though. My people will regard them with suspicion, if they believe them at all. You only need to mention you are willing to consider making amends for your father’s betrayal, not specify how.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

Tyvara smiled. “I’m looking forward to watching you try.”

“As am I,” Chari said. She looked down at his shoes. “How are your feet?”

“Well used.”

“Fancy a cart ride? We have a load of feed headed for one of the outer estates tomorrow. I’m sure there’s room for two more slaves.”

Lorkin looked at Tyvara. “We can trust her?”

She nodded. “Chari is an old friend of mine. We trained together.”

He smiled at Chari and inclined his head. “Then I accept. In fact, it sounds like an offer too good to refuse.”

“Then don’t.” Chari smiled brightly. “I can offer you more comfortable beds at my estate than a bit of dirt in an old ruin. And,” she leaned toward Lorkin and sniffed, “a bath.”

Lorkin looked toward Tyvara. She was frowning.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Sighing, she looked at Chari. “Are you sure Lorkin is safe at your estate?”

The young woman grinned. “The master’s a sweet old drunk. I make all the decisions there, including which slaves he buys. There’s not one slave there I didn’t approve of, and the few times Speaker Sneaky has tried to get one of her girls in I’ve found them somewhere else to be.”

Tyvara shook her head slowly. “You’re going to be a very scary woman if you ever decide to take a place at the Table.”

“You can bet on it.” Chari grinned. “So you’d better stay on my good side. And you’ll have a better chance of that if you have that bath. Come on. Let’s get home before the master misses me.”

“She wouldn’t ask to meet you if there wasn’t good reason,” Gol said as he hurried after Cery.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Cery retorted.

“Well … all I’m saying is she’s a sensible girl.”

“I’d much rather she was
not
sensible with
no
good reason to see me.” Cery scowled. “If she’s sensible and has a good reason then there’s a better chance something bad has happened.”

Gol sighed and said nothing more. Cery wove past boxes and tubs of rotting food in the alley.
At least I know that Anyi is still alive
, he thought. Gol had occasionally tried to find her, and Cery had been pleased that he’d failed – and tried to tell himself it was because she’d succeeded in hiding rather than because her corpse had never been found or recognised.

Near the end of the alleyway he stopped and hammered on a door. After a short pause, the door swung inward and a man with a scarred face ushered them inside. A familiar woman stepped out of a side door to meet them.

“Donia,” Cery said, managing a half-smile. “How’s business?”

“The usual,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into a wry smile. “Good to see you again. I’ve got the rooms set the way you like. She’s waiting up there.”

“Thanks.”

He and Gol climbed the stairs. Worry made him edgy, and he couldn’t help glancing through doorways and around corners for signs of ambush. Though Cery did not think Donia would betray him willingly, he never discounted the chance that someone would remember they had been friends in their youth, and set a trap for him in her bolhouse. Or spy on him. He always had Donia empty the top-floor rooms either side of and below the one he held meetings in, so nobody could eavesdrop.

Reaching the door of the same room he had met Anyi in last time, he was amused to see her sitting in the exact position he had been in during the previous meeting. Keeping his expression neutral, he followed Gol inside. The big man looked around the room, then closed the door. Cery looked closely at his daughter.

There were dark circles under her eyes and she appeared to be even thinner, but her gaze was sharp and unflinching.

“Anyi,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’ve kept out of trouble.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “It’s good to see you’re still alive, too. Any luck catching my brothers’ murderer?”

He felt a familiar wrench of grief. “Yes and no.”

“Which means what?”

Cery suppressed a sigh. Her mother had disliked evasive answers, too.

“I’ve been tracking someone, but I won’t be sure if it is the right someone until I catch them.”

She pursed her lips, then nodded. “Why have you let brazier houses open in Northside?”

He blinked in surprise. “I haven’t.”

“You don’t know about them?” Her eyebrows rose and her attention shifted to Gol. “
He
doesn’t know?”

“No.” Cery glanced at Gol. “But we do now.”

“You’ll shut them down?”

“Of course.”

She frowned. “But you won’t do it yourself, will you? Not in person.”

He shrugged. “Probably not. Why do you ask?”

“One opened next to where I was staying. It’s why I’m not staying there now. Nasty, nasty people. I heard them talking to the previous owner. The walls are pretty thin so it wasn’t hard to listen in.” Her eyes narrowed. “They told the man they were going to take his house and shop. They said if he told anyone they’d do things to him and his family. There was a woman with a strange accent – nothing I’ve ever heard before. She said something and then the bootmaker yelled. When his wife got home after they’d gone, I heard him telling her what had happened. He said they’d hurt him with magic.” Anyi looked at Cery intently. “Do you think that’s possible, or did they trick him?”

Cery stared back at her.
If this is the rogue … if it is the Thief Hunter … is she worming her way closer to Skellin by working for his rot-sellers?
“A strange accent,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“Did you get a look at her?”

“No. But there have been rumours of rogue magicians in the city for years. It kind of makes sense if they’re foreigners. Magicians from countries outside the Allied Lands aren’t going to be part of the Guild.” She paused, then shrugged. “Of course, she could’ve been faking it.”

Cery nodded approvingly. “You were right to leave. Better to assume she has magic and get out of there. Have you got another hiding place?”

She scowled. “No. I had a few, but they’ve all been spoiled in one way or another.” She looked up at him. “You’re doing okay, from the look of it.”

“I’m not sure how much of that is because of what I’ve done, or sheer luck,” he admitted.

“Still, with the money and contacts you have, you must have a better chance than me.”

Cery shrugged. “They do help.”

“They do, do they? Well, how about I come and stay with you, then? Because hiding doesn’t earn me any money, and I’ve used up all mine – as well as my contacts.”

As Cery opened his mouth to protest, she leapt to her feet.

“Don’t go telling me I’d be safer away from you. Nobody but you and Gol know we’re related and I have no intention of making it public gossip. I’m not going to be with you all the time because I’m your daughter.” She straightened and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to be there as your bodyguard.”

Gol made a choking noise.

“Anyi—” Cery began.

“Face it, you need one. Gol’s getting old and slow. You need someone young. Someone you can trust as much as him.”

Gol’s choking became a spluttering.

“Youth and trustworthiness aren’t all that a bodyguard’s gotta be,” Cery pointed out.

She smiled and crossed her arms. “You don’t think I can fight? I can fight. I’ve even had some training. I’ll prove it.”

Cery bit back the sceptical remark he would normally have made.
She is my daughter. We haven’t exchanged this many words in years. I’ll gain nothing by dismissing her. And … perhaps she does have a little of her father’s talent.

“Well, then,” he said. “How about you do that? Show me how old and slow Gol is.”

He nearly laughed aloud at the expression on his bodyguard’s face. Gol’s look of hurt and dismay changed to wariness as Anyi turned to face him and dropped into a crouch. There was a glint of metal in one hand. Cery hadn’t seen her reach for the knife. He noted the way she held it and nodded in approval.

This could be interesting.

“Don’t actually kill him,” he told her.

Gol had recovered from his surprise now, and was drawing closer to Anyi with the careful, well-balanced steps that Cery knew so well. He slowly drew out a knife. The big man might not be fast on his feet, but he was as solid as a wall and knew how to use an adversary’s momentum and weight against him. Or her.

Anyi was edging closer as well, but Cery was pleased to see she wasn’t rushing in. She was circling Gol though, and that wasn’t good. A bodyguard ought to keep him- or herself between an attacker and the person they were supposed to be protecting.
I’ll have to teach her that.

Cery caught himself and frowned.
Will I? Should I even keep her near me, let alone put her in a position where she is more likely to be attacked? I should give her money and send her away.

Somehow he knew she would not be content with that. Whether he sent her away or let her stay with him, she would want to be
doing
something.
And she has no place to hide. How can I send her away?

But she was tenacious. If he sent her back out into the city – especially if he gave her some money – she would find new places to conceal herself.
Or she will decide she can’t stand being cooped up any more and throw all caution to the wind.

A flurry of movement drew his attention back to the fight. Anyi had attacked Gol, he noted. Again, not the best move for a bodyguard. Gol had neatly dodged her knife, caught her arm and used her lunge to propel and twist her to the floor behind him. She gave a yelp of protest and pain as he held her arm behind her back, stopping her from rising.

Cery walked forward and prised the knife out of her hand, then he stepped back.

“Let her up.”

Gol released her and backed away. He met Cery’s gaze and nodded once. “She’s fast, but she has some bad habits. We’ll have to retrain her.”

Cery frowned at the man.
He’s already decided I’m going to keep her!

Rising to her feet, Anyi narrowed her eyes at Gol, but said nothing. She glanced at Cery, then looked at the floor.

“I’ll learn,” she said.

“You have a lot to learn,” Cery told her.

“So you’ll take me on as a bodyguard?”

He paused before answering. “I’ll consider it, once you’ve been trained right, and if I think you’re good enough. Either way, you’re working for me now, and that means you must do what I tell you. No arguments. You obey orders, even if you don’t know why.”

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

He walked over to her and handed back the knife. “And Gol’s not old. He’s close to the same age as me.”

Anyi’s eyebrows rose. “If you think that means he’s not old, then you really do need a new bodyguard.”

H
ealer Nikea stepped into the examination room as the last patient Sonea had seen left – a woman who was trying, unsuccessfully, to give up roet. Sonea had Healed the woman, but it had made no difference to the cravings.

“There’s something I need to show you,” Nikea said.

“Oh?” Sonea looked up from the notes she had been taking. “What is that?”

“Something,” Nikea said. She smiled, and her eyes widened meaningfully.

Somehow Sonea’s heart managed to skip a beat and then, straight after, sink to her stomach. If Cery had merely sent a message, Nikea would have delivered it. This meaningful look suggested that more than a note had arrived, and Sonea suspected that “something” was Cery.

He knew she didn’t like him coming here. Still, there had to be a good reason for him doing so.

Rising, she stepped out of the room and followed Nikea down the corridor. They entered the non-public part of the hospice. A pair of Healers stood in the hallway, heads close as they talked in whispers. Their eyes were on a storeroom door, but shifted to Sonea as she appeared. They immediately straightened and inclined their heads politely.

“Black Magician Sonea,” they murmured, then hurried away.

Nikea led Sonea to the door they’d found so interesting and opened it. Inside, a familiar figure sat on a short ladder, between rows of shelving filled with bandages and other hospice supplies. He stood up. Sighing, Sonea stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her.