The Rogue (14 page)

It all makes sense when put together like that. Except that there is no obvious reason why Narvelan would steal the storestone. Perhaps he didn’t need a good reason if he was truly as mad as the records paint him.

Suddenly the binding cracked and several pages fell out. Looking back at the first page, Dannyl saw that the writing was already fading again. He drew out several sheafs of paper and topped up the ink in the well. Then he called for a slave to bring sumi and some food.

I am copying out this book now
, he decided.
Even if it takes me all night.

Lilia hesitated, eyeing the large, stern man inside the doorway. Though he had bowed, it had been a token gesture. Something about him made her uneasy. The man scowled when she didn’t slip in after Naki. His eyes flickered to the street behind her, checking for something. Then he opened his mouth.

“Coming in or not?”

The voice was surprisingly high and girlish, and for a second Lilia fought the urge to giggle. Her nervousness disappeared and she moved past him into the dingy hallway.

It wasn’t much of a hallway. There was just enough room for the guard to stand and people to pass him and reach the staircase. Naki began to climb to the next floor. Odd, muffled sounds were coming from behind the walls and the air smelled of a mixture of the strange and familiar. Lilia felt anxiety begin to pluck at her again.

She had guessed what sort of place this was. She’d known from Naki’s mysterious behaviour – refusing to say where they were going – that it was unlikely they were headed for more conventional evening entertainment. While novices weren’t forbidden to enter such places, they weren’t supposed to frequent them.

They were called brazier houses. Or pleasure houses. As the two girls reached the landing at the top of the stairs, a woman in an expensive but rather tacky dress bowed and asked them what they desired.

“A brazier room,” Naki replied. “And some wine.”

The woman gestured that they should follow her and started down the corridor.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while, novice Naki,” a male voice said from behind Lilia.

Naki stopped. Lilia noted there was no eagerness in Naki’s face as she turned to look back. The smile her friend wore was forced.

“Kelin,” she said. “It has been too long. How’s business?”

Lilia turned to see a short, stocky man with squinty eyes standing half in, half out of a doorway. His lips parted and crooked teeth flashed. If it was a smile, there was no friendliness about it.

“
Very
good,” he replied. “I’d invite you in,” his eyes flickered to Lilia, “but I see you have better company to distract you.”

“I do, indeed.” Naki stepped forward and hooked an arm in Lilia’s. “But thank you for considering it,” she called back over her shoulder, taking a step forward and guiding Lilia after the serving woman.

They were led upstairs and to a small room with a roomy two-seater chair and a tiny fireplace with a brazier sitting on the tiles before it. A narrow window allowed a mix of moonlight and lamplight in, which was barely challenged by the small shaded lamps hanging either side of the fireplace. The air smelled of fragrant smoke and something faintly sour.

“Tiny, but cosy and private,” Naki said, gesturing at the room.

“Who was that man?” Lilia asked as they settled on the chair.

Naki’s nose wrinkled. “A friend of the family. He did my father a favour once, and now acts like he’s a relation.” She shrugged. “He’s all right though, once you understand what he values.” She turned to Lilia. “That’s the secret to people: knowing what they value.”

“What do you value?” Lilia asked.

Her friend tilted her head to the side as she considered. The lamplight set her profile glowing softly.
She looks best at night
, Lilia found herself thinking.
It’s her natural time of day.

“Friendship,” Naki said. “Trust. Loyalty.” She leaned closer, her smile widening. “Love.” Lilia’s breath caught in her throat, but her friend leaned away again. “You?”

Lilia breathed in, then out, but her head was spinning.
And we haven’t even started on the roet.
“The same,” she said, afraid she was taking too long to answer.
Love? Is it possible? Do I love Naki? I definitely have more fun when I’m with her, and there’s something about her that’s both exciting and a bit scary.

Naki was staring at her intently. She said nothing; she just stared. Then a knock came from the door. Naki looked away and opened it with magic. Lilia felt a warring relief and disappointment as the serving woman brought in a tray carrying a bottle of wine, goblets and an ornate box.

“Ah!” Naki said eagerly, ignoring the serving woman’s bow and retreat. She picked up the box and dumped a handful of the contents into the brazier. A flame flared among the coals, no doubt fired by Naki’s magic, and smoke began to curl into the air.

Lilia busied herself opening and pouring the wine. She handed a goblet to Naki as the girl returned to the seat. Naki lifted the glass.

“What should we dedicate the wine to?” she asked. “Well, of course: trust, loyalty and love.”

“Trust, loyalty and love,” Lilia repeated. They both sipped the wine.

A comfortable silence fell between them. The smoke from the brazier wafted across the room. Naki leaned forward and breathed deeply. Chuckling, Lilia did the same, feeling as if her thoughts were knotted muscles slowly loosening and unravelling. She leaned back in the chair and sighed.

“Thank you,” she found herself saying.

Naki turned to smile at her. “You like it here? I thought you might.”

Lilia looked around and shrugged. “It’s all right. I was thanking you for … for … for making me less wound up, and showing me how to have fun, and … just being good company.”

Naki’s smile faded and was replaced by a thoughtful look. Then a familiar glint of mischief entered her eyes, and Lilia could not help bracing herself. Whenever her friend got that look, what followed was likely to be surprising, and not a little confronting.

This time Naki leaned in and quickly but firmly kissed Lilia.

Lips warm and tingling, Lilia stared at her friend in astonishment and, she was all too aware, hope. Her heart was racing. Her mind spun.
That was certainly surprising
, she thought.
But, like everything Naki does, not as confronting as it seemed it might be.

Slowly, deliberately, Naki did it again, only this time she did not move away. A rush of sensations and thoughts went through Lilia, all of them pleasant and none that could be explained away by the roet smoke or the wine.
The wine …
She was still holding the goblet and wanted not to be.
I think …
Naki’s arm had snaked around her waist and she wanted to reach out to her friend –
should I still call Naki “friend” after tonight?
Leaning to one side, she tried to set the goblet on the floor.
I think I
am
in love.

But she must have set the glass on an uneven surface, for she heard a clunk and slosh as it fell over.

Uh, oh
, she thought. But though she did not make a sound, she heard a faint voice utter it for her. A voice coming from the direction of the fireplace.

That’s strange.

She could not help herself. Tilting her head, she looked at the fireplace. Somewhere within the cavity something flickered. Looking closer, she got the strangest impression that something blinked at her.

Someone is watching us.

A shiver of horror ran down her spine and she pushed Naki back a little.

“What is it?” Naki said, her voice even more deep and throaty than usual.

“I saw …” Lilia shook her head, tore her eyes away from the fireplace, which looked dark and ordinary now, and looked at Naki. “I … I don’t think I like this place after all. It doesn’t seem very … private.”

Naki searched her gaze, then smiled. “Fair enough. Let’s finish the wine and get out of here.”

“I spilled mine …”

“Don’t worry.” Naki leaned down and picked up the goblet. “They’re used to little accidents happening here, though usually when the customers are a bit more inebriated than we are.” She refilled the goblet, then held it out to Lilia and smiled. “To love.”

Lilia smiled back, feeling the buoyant, exhilarating mood return and her earlier discomfort fade.

“To love.”

The small girl sitting on the edge of the bed was coughing hard, pausing only to take a gasping breath. As Lorkin gave cure-laced sweets and Kalia’s instructions to her mother – a magician who, he knew, was aligned with Kalia’s faction – the girl looked up at him. He saw in her eyes a pity quite different to the sympathy he felt for her.
She pities me? Why would she pity
me
?

The mother nodded, took her daughter’s hand and moved away. He watched as she walked over to Kalia. Though it had happened before, with other patients, he still felt his stomach sink.

Kalia was busy and he didn’t care to watch as the woman checked what he’d told her. He moved on to the next patient, an old woman with dark circles under her eyes and a more concerning, wrenching cough. Now that the chill fever had spread through the city, the Care Room was busy night and day, and Kalia had been forced to involve him in the treating of it. Most Traitors accepted this without question, but now and then someone could not bring themself to trust him – or pretended not to, in order to needle him.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Kalia said loudly. The old woman’s eyes flickered away and then back to Lorkin.

“She means you,” she muttered.

Lorkin nodded. “Thanks.” He straightened and turned to find Kalia striding toward him. One hand was clasped around something, and she brandished it at him. The mother and daughter trailed behind.

“I told you no more than four a day!” she declared. “Do you want to poison this child?”

Lorkin looked down at the girl, who was grinning widely, excited by the scene she was a part of.

“Or course not,” he replied. “Who could ever harm such a pretty child?” The girl’s smile faltered. She liked to be flattered, he guessed, but knew her mother would not like her to respond in a friendly way. Not knowing what to do, she looked up at her mother, then frowned and regarded him suspiciously. “I did wonder why you told me to give her more sweets than the other children,” he added, unable to resist hinting that Kalia might be favouring her friends with more of the limited supply of cures.

“I did
not
tell you to give her six!” Kalia’s voice rose to a higher note.

“Actually, you did,” a huskier voice replied.

Startled by the new voice, Lorkin turned to look at the old woman, who gazed back at Kalia unflinchingly. He felt a small surge of hope. However, if Kalia was dismayed she was hiding it well. She looked as if she was humbly thinking back on her instructions, but her eyes were dark and calculating.

Whoever the old woman was, she was influential enough that Kalia hadn’t dared to claim she was hard of hearing, or mistaken. Lorkin decided he had to learn the identity of this unexpected ally, as soon as he was free to.

“Perhaps you are right,” Kalia said, smiling. “We have been so busy here. We are all tired. I am sorry,” she said to the old woman, then she whirled around to face the mother and daughter. “I apologise. Here …” She gave them the sweets and prattled away as she herded the pair toward the door.

“She
must
be tired,” the old woman muttered, “if she thought anybody would believe that little charade.”

“Not everyone is as smart or observant as you are,” Lorkin replied.

The old woman’s eyes brightened as she smiled. “No. If they were, she would never have been elected.”

Lorkin concentrated on checking the old woman’s pulse and temperature, listened to her lungs and examined her throat. He also surreptitiously listened with his magical senses to confirm his assessment. Which was that the old woman was surprisingly healthy apart from the chill fever symptoms. Finally, after giving advice and cures, Lorkin quietly thanked the old woman.

Not long after he’d moved to the next patient, he heard a hum of interest in the room and looked around. All eyes were on the entrance, where a stretcher was floating into the room followed by a magician. The woman was unsuccessfully trying to smother a smile. Looking at the stretcher, Lorkin felt his heart skip.

Evar!

He hadn’t seen his friend in some days. The rumour in the men’s room was that Evar had found himself a lover. They’d laid bets on whether Evar would eventually swagger back into the men’s room and collect his things, or limp in with a broken heart. None of them had wagered that he would reappear unconscious on a stretcher.

Kalia had noticed and hurried over to examine him. Flipping aside the blanket carelessly, she revealed a completely naked Evar to the room. Smothered giggles and gasps came from all around. Lorkin felt a stab of anger as Kalia didn’t bother to re-cover the young man.

“Nothing’s broken,” the smiling magician told Kalia.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Kalia replied. She squeezed and poked, then placed a hand on Evar’s forehead. “Over-drained,” she pronounced. She looked up at the magician. “You?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Not likely. It was Leota.”

“She ought to be more careful.” Kalia sniffed disdainfully, then looked around the room. “He’s not sick, and should not take up a bed. Put him over there, on the floor. He’ll recover in his own time.”

The magician and stretcher moved over to the back of the room where, to Lorkin’s relief, Evar would be hidden behind the rows of beds. The woman was grinning as she strode out, not bothering to pull the blanket back over Evar. Kalia ignored the new patient, and scowled at Lorkin when he started toward his friend.

“Leave him be,” she ordered.

Lorkin bided his time. Eventually Kalia disappeared into the storeroom for more cures. He slipped over to Evar and was surprised to find the young man’s eyes open. Evar smiled ruefully at Lorkin.