The Ambassador's Mission

CHAPTER 21

WELCOME ASSISTANCE



The stream did not look healthy, even in the soft light of approaching dawn. A mere trickle winding sluggishly along a shallow ditch, it was fringed with green slime and smelled of mould and rotten vegetation. Tyvara was unperturbed. She dropped into a squat and scooped up a palmful of water.

Lorkin watched her stare at it for a moment, then gulp it down.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” he told her.

She looked up at him. “Don’t worry. I’m stripping it first.”

“Stripping?”

“Drawing out all the life within it. It’s still gritty with sediment, but that’s unpleasant, not dangerous. This is much faster and more efficient than what you do, since I’m taking energy, not using it. Are you going to drink? We can’t be sure when we’ll find water again.”

Lorkin looked at her hands, still dirty from the water. “I thought blood was the only substance magic can be drawn through.”

She smiled and scooped up more water. “You know that humans and most animals have a layer of magical protection that naturally sits about the skin?”

“Yes.”

“To reach past it you must break it, and the simplest way is by cutting the skin. Naturally that results in bleeding, so people think the blood is essential. It isn’t.” Her voice grew husky as she spoke. It had been too long since they’d found water. She paused to stare at the liquid cupped in her hands, then drank, before looking up at him again. “There are tiny forms of life in water – you can sense it even when you can’t see it – and they’re what make you sick. But they don’t seem to have a layer of protection, so it’s easy to draw their energy. You wouldn’t want to rely on such a feeble source, though.” She looked down. “Plants seem to have a weaker protection than animals. It’s possible to draw their power without cutting them, though it is slow and there’s so little to gain you wouldn’t bother.” She reached for another palmful of water.

Lorkin sighed and sat down. He drew magic and gathered up a cup’s worth of water from the stream, holding it within an invisible globe of force. The liquid was cloudy and unappealing. Sending out more magic, he heated the water until it boiled.

In Healing classes, where purifying water was taught, he’d been told it was best to boil the water for several minutes. But soon Tyvara had finished drinking and was watching him expectantly, obviously anxious to move on. He stopped heating the water and let it cool to a temperature he could bear to touch and drink. Thankfully by then the grit in the water had settled to the bottom, and he was able to scoop the cleaner water from the top. A few gulps later he was done, and they rose to their feet. Rays of sunlight were streaking through the tops of the trees that surrounded them. He hadn’t realised dawn had been so close.

“Where next?” Lorkin asked.

“Into the forest. I thought you’d appreciate sleeping above ground.

He grimaced. Though they’d slept in a hole underground each day for several days, he had grown no more comfortable with the knowledge that he was one magical barrier away from being buried alive. “I certainly would.”

“Come on then.”

Stepping off the road, she led the way into the trees, and Lorkin followed. At first he stumbled over obstacles, dodging branches that Tyvara pushed out of her way which then sprang back at him, his thin shoes catching on rocks and the uneven ground threatening to unbalance him. It took all his concentration to avoid tripping over. Tyvara drew further and further ahead, until she noticed he was falling behind and stopped to wait for him to catch up.

“Have you ever been in a forest before?” she asked.

“Yes. There’s one in the Guild Grounds, but it has pathways.”

“Ever left Imardin before this?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Because my mother isn’t allowed to leave the city. But he couldn’t tell her that without explaining why, and he wasn’t supposed to reveal how few Kyralians knew black magic or how it was regarded.

“Never had reason to.”

She shook her head in disbelief, then turned and continued through the forest. This time she appeared to choose her steps more carefully, and their path became much easier. Then he realised that it was a path. A very narrow path, but clearly someone or something had come this way often enough to wear a track in the undergrowth.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“No.”

“So you don’t know where this path goes.”

“It’s an animal track.”

“Ah.” He looked down and his heart skipped a beat. “So why are there shoe prints?”

Tyvara stopped and looked back to where he was pointing.

“The forest belongs to the Ashaki who owns this land. There will be slaves harvesting the wood, or hunting the animals that live here.” She frowned and looked around them. “I suppose this is as far as we can risk going. We should split up – but stay close enough that you can see and hear me. Look for thick vegetation. Or a hollow in the ground we could cover. If you find anything, whistle to me.”

He headed off to the right of the track. After roaming about for a while he found a place where a huge tree had fallen long ago. All that was left of the tree was a massive stump. Roots splayed out like protective arms, and thick, low bushes had grown around the disturbed soil. Guessing there would be a hollow where the roots had once been, he pushed through the bushes. A hole, half as deep as he was tall, remained.

Thick vegetation and a hollow, he thought with satisfaction. It’s perfect.

Turning to look for Tyvara, he saw her walking twenty or so strides away. He whistled, and when she looked up he beckoned. She headed over to him and pushed her way through the bushes. Stopping at the edge of the hole, she examined it with interest. She sniffed the air.

“Smells damp. You first.”

Lorkin drew magic, created a barrier in the shape of a disc, and stepped onto it. He lowered himself into the hole. The soil beneath the barrier was soft, and flattened as he reached the bottom. Removing the barrier, he felt himself start to sink further. The soil wasn’t just soft, but waterlogged. Muddy water welled up and into his shoes. One foot touched firm ground but the other kept going, and he threw out his arms and tried to step sideways to catch his balance.

But the mud held him firmly. He fell backwards and landed with a splash in a sticky, smelly mire.

The forest echoed with Tyvara’s laughter.

Looking up at her, Lorkin smiled ruefully. She has a great laugh, he thought. As if she doesn’t often laugh, but when she does she relishes it. He waited until she had stopped, then patted the mud beside him.

“Come on down. It’s damp, but much softer than those holes in the ground,” he told her.

She chuckled a little more, shook her head, then opened her mouth to speak. But something caught her attention. She looked up, then cursed quietly.

“You!” a voice called. “Come here.”

She did not look at Lorkin, but hissed words out between her teeth.

“Ashaki. He’s seen me. Stay hidden. Stay here.”

Then she walked away, disappearing through the bushes. Lorkin pushed himself up into a crouch. He listened carefully, and heard the tinkle of a horse’s harness somewhere behind him. Behind the fallen tree.

Moving to the mass of roots, he straightened and peered through them. A Sachakan man was standing beside a horse, staring at something below him. His clothing was not the decorated garb of an Ashaki, but it was well made and more practical for riding.

Then Lorkin saw the knife on the man’s belt. His mouth went dry.

“Get up,” the Ashaki said.

From the ground before him, Tyvara rose. Lorkin fought the urge to rush after her. She’s a magician. A black magician. She can look after herself. And probably more easily if she doesn’t have me to protect at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” the man demanded.

Her reply was meek and quiet.

“Where’s your water bottle? Your supplies?”

“I put them down. Now I can’t find them.”

The man regarded her thoughtfully. “Come here,” he said finally.

She took a step closer, her shoulders stooped. Lorkin felt his heart freeze as the man placed his hands either side of her head. I should stop this. He’ll learn who we are. But why would she let him read her mind? Surely once she knew what he intended she would have fought him off?

After a moment the man let her go.

“Seems you are as stupid as you say. Follow me. I’ll take you back to the road.”

As the man turned away to mount his horse, Tyvara glanced back at Lorkin and smiled. The triumph in her expression blew away his earlier alarm. He watched as she meekly followed the man away into the forest. When they were no longer in sight Lorkin turned and sat down on one of the thicker lower roots of the tree.

“Stay hidden. Stay here,” she said. I guess she means she’ll come back once the magician has led her to the road and gone on his way. He looked up at the position of the sunlight streaming between the trees and decided that, if she wasn’t back within what he estimated was an hour, he’d set out in search of her.

It was a long hour. Time dragged by. Sunbeams raked the undergrowth with excruciating slowness. As the mud dried, he scratched and brushed it off his skin and clothes. He tried to stop himself imagining what might happen to her, if the magician discovered who and what she was. He tried not to worry that the magician would find out he was here, come back for him and …

“Good to see you know how to follow orders,” a voice said behind him.

He whirled about to find her standing on top of the stump, smiling down at him. Heart pounding in his chest, he watched her step out into thin air and float down to hover in front of him.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

She frowned and glanced at the shimmering disc of magic just visible beneath her feet. “Same way you did.”

“Not levitation. Stopping him from reading your mind.”

“Ah. That.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you remember me telling you we have a way of making mind-readers see what we want them to see?”

He thought back to the first place they’d hidden, and of the other slave women. “Ah. Yes, I do. Some sort of blood gem, right?”

She smiled. “Might be. Might not be.”

Blood gem. Lorkin’s heart skipped. I could have used Mother’s ring while she was gone, but I forgot all about it! He’d been too concerned about Tyvara. He cursed under his breath.

“What is it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “What if it had been me he’d spotted? My mind he’d read?”

“I’d have stopped him.” She shrugged. “While it’s always best to avoid confrontation, that isn’t always possible.”

“You’d fight him? Wouldn’t that draw attention to us?”

“It might.” She waved a hand at their surroundings. “But we’re well hidden. I’d try to finish him off quickly.”

“You’d kill him?”

“Of course. He’d come after us if I didn’t.”

“And when his body was discovered, someone else would come after us. Wouldn’t it be better overall if I could hide my thoughts?”

She chuckled. “Even if I was prepared to give the Traitors another reason to be angry with me, even if I thought we couldn’t reach Sanctuary without me revealing this secret to you, I couldn’t do it. I simply don’t have the materials or the time.”

He felt his heart skip. “It’s like a blood gem, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Lie down and go to sleep, Lorkin.”

He looked down at the mud, then up at her in disbelief.

“I was only joking, when I said it made a soft bed.”

She sighed and waved a hand at him.

“Stand back.”

He obeyed, sitting back on his former perch and, guessing what she planned to do, lifting his feet and soggy shoes out of the mud. Soon the air above the sludge began to mist. For a while they were bathed in hot steam, then the air cleared and he saw that only cracked, dried earth remained. Tyvara stepped off the disc of magic under her feet onto the hardened ground. She tapped her foot.

“Get some sleep while you can,” she said. “I’ll wake you in a few hours, then you can watch. I don’t think our host will return any time soon, but he clearly likes taking rides around his estate. We had better keep an eye out for him.”

Sighing, Lorkin lay down on the hard ground, and tried to do as she suggested.


A gentle autumn rain began to patter down on the garden at Sunny House, but the small stone shelter Cery and Skellin were sitting within kept them dry. Gol stood nearby, blinking rain out of his eyes as he watched Skellin’s bodyguard standing on the opposite side of the shelter. They were alone, the locals keeping indoors in the drab weather and the owner of the land mumbling to himself in another corner of the garden.

As Cery finished his brief description of what he and Gol had seen from the roof of the pawnshop, Skellin looked thoughtful.

“A woman, eh? Did you get a good look at her?”

Cery shrugged. “It was dark and we were watching from above, but I reckon I could pick her again. She’s got dark skin and hair. About this tall …” Cery held out a hand to indicate.

“Now that you know she has magic, how do you plan to catch her?”

“Oh, I only have to find her.” Cery shrugged. “It’s up to the Guild to capture rogue magicians. Which is just as well, because if she is the Thief Hunter neither you nor I have a hope of stopping her.”

Skellin’s eyes flashed with interest. “You’re working for the Guild!”

“Helping the Guild. If I was working for them I’d expect to be paid.”

“You’re not being paid?” Skellin shook his head and his expression became serious. “I suppose there are other benefits. When I heard about your family I figured you’d be looking for revenge. Your search for the murderer turned into a search for the Thief Hunter and now your search for the Thief Hunter has turned into a search for a rogue magician.”

“It’s been a wild few weeks,” Cery replied.

“I hope you’ll forgive me pointing out you’ve got a little off track.”

Cery nodded. “It still may turn out that the three are the same person. I guess we’ll find out once we’ve caught her.”

“If you can get the truth out of her.”

Cery opened his mouth to remind Skellin that black magicians were able to read the minds of unwilling subjects, then thought better of it. No point giving away that nugget of information until he had to. “Are you interested in helping us find her?”

The other Thief pursed his lips as he considered, then he nodded. “Of course I am. If she turns out to be a rogue magician at least I’ll have had the chance to make a few friends in the Guild. If she turns out to be the Thief Hunter it will be a boon to us all.” He rubbed his hands together. “So tell me: where did you last see her?”

“We saw a woman coming out of the pawn-dealer’s shop that looked like her, so I sent Gol after her.” As Cery described the basement the woman had used, and the underground tunnel leading away from it, Skellin frowned.

“I didn’t know there were passages there,” he said. “The rebuilding was supposed to have destroyed them. But I guess if you have magic it would be easy and fast to build yourself a new one.”

“I’m a little behind on the borders. Whose territory is it currently part of?”

Skellin grimaced. “Mine, actually.” He met Cery’s surprised gaze, then smiled crookedly. “Do you know what’s going on in every corner of yours at all times?”

Cery shook his head. “Probably not. I don’t have many areas where so much rebuilding has gone on, either. One of the other shopkeepers said she’d been seen in the nearby market, buying herbs.”

“I’ll check it out,” Skellin told him. “And see if any of my contacts have heard of a woman like you describe lurking around. Sounds like she’d be the sort to stick to herself. Which, of course, always makes a person stand out. If I hear anything I’ll let you know. We can set a trap for her and send for your Guild friends.”

Cery nodded. “And I’ll let you know if I track her down.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Skellin said, smiling. “I don’t want to miss out on my chance to meet a few Guild magicians.” His eyebrows rose. “One of them wouldn’t happen to be your famous childhood friend, would it?”

“It might be. But if you want to meet Sonea, you only have to visit one of the hospices.”

“Then I’d have to pretend to be sick.” Skellin shrugged. “And I don’t think she’d like me taking the place of someone who needed her help.”

“No. Probably not. So you never get sick?”

“Never.”

“Lucky you.”

Skellin grinned. “It’s been pleasant talking to you again, Ceryni of Northside. I hope we will meet again soon, and that I have good news for you.”

Cery nodded. “Looking forward to it. Safe journey home.”

“You, too.”

The other Thief turned to his bodyguard and strode away. Stepping out from the shelter, Cery drew his collar in close to keep out the rain and walked over to Gol. The big man said nothing at first, falling into step beside Cery as they headed back. Then, when Sunny House was far behind them, he asked how the meeting had gone. Cery went over the details.

“I didn’t know Skellin’s territory stretched that far,” Gol interrupted.

“Neither did I,” Cery replied. “It’s been too long since we found out where the boundaries were.”

“I can find out for you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Gol chuckled. “Of course you were.”


Why hasn’t he used the ring?

Sonea rose from her chair and paced to the window. Sliding across the paper screen, she stared out over the Guild and sighed. Perhaps Lorkin hadn’t found the blood ring among his possessions. Perhaps it was still at the Guild House in Arvice, deep in his travelling chest.

That thought left her uneasy. With Dannyl and Lorkin both absent from the Guild House, was it possible a snooping slave might find the ring? If it fell into the wrong hands … she shuddered. One of the Sachakan Ichani who had invaded Kyralia twenty years ago had caught Rothen and made a gem from his blood, then used it to send Rothen mental images of all his victims. If Lorkin’s abductor found the ring and used it to send her images of her son being tortured …

Her heart froze. I don’t think I could bear it. I’d agree to their demands, no matter what they were. Rothen is right. It would make the situation worse if I were there. I only hope, if they find the ring, they realise the maker is too far away for it to be effective as a tool of persuasion.

She paced away from the window, circling the room. Her shift at the hospice wouldn’t begin for another few hours. The Healers there had grown bolder since offering to conceal her absence if she needed to venture into the city. They had grown almost annoyingly protective of her, pestering her with questions about how much sleep she was getting if she arrived early for a shift or stayed later.

But if Cery finds the rogue, it’ll be easier and faster for him to contact me at the hospice. I wish he would contact me. Chasing after this woman would at least keep me busy enough to stop fruitlessly worrying about Lorkin for a while.

At once she felt the deep pit of anxiety in her stomach open up and thoughts of what might happen to her son threatened to spill out. She forced her mind elsewhere. The rogue, she thought. Think about the rogue.

It had been only a few days since their failed attempt to catch the woman, but it felt like far longer. She considered the passage entrance they’d found. If the woman had access to the Thieves’ Road did that mean she had links to a Thief? It would have done once, but the old rules and restrictions were no longer in place in Imardin’s underworld.

Another possibility disturbed her. If the woman had access to the Thieves’ Road, did she know about the tunnels under the Guild?

A knock at the main door interrupted Sonea’s thoughts. She rose and hurried toward it. Perhaps it was Rothen. Maybe he had news of Lorkin. Even if it were someone else, at least they’d provide some distraction from her thoughts. A small twist and push of magic unlatched the door and swung it inward.

Regin stood outside. He inclined his head politely.

“Black Magician Sonea,” he said.

“Lord Regin.” She hoped her disappointment didn’t show in her face.

“Have you heard anything?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“No.”

He nodded and looked away. It struck her then that it was unexpectedly considerate of him to stop by and enquire about Lorkin, and she felt guilty for the hostility she felt toward him. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he continued on without realising she had been about to speak.

“I’ve made some enquiries and they’ve led to a few small ideas,” he said, then shrugged and looked at her. “Probably not worth the trouble and they may clash with your friend’s plans, but I thought I should share them with you.”

My friend’s plans? Suddenly Sonea understood. He was not talking about Lorkin, but about Cery and the hunt for the rogue. She shook her head. Of course, he doesn’t even know about Lorkin. I’m such a fool …

“No?” Regin took a step back, seeing her shake her head. “I can come back another time if it is more convenient.”

“Yes – come in. I’d like to hear your ideas,” she told him, beckoning and moving aside. He looked at her questioningly, then smiled faintly and stepped past her into her main room. She gestured to the chairs, inviting him to sit down, then closed the door with magic.

“Sumi?” she asked.

He nodded. “Thank you.” He watched her move to a side-board where she kept a tray containing the sumi-making utensils. “I thought you didn’t like sumi.”

“I don’t, but it’s growing on me. Raka makes me a bit edgy these days. Tell me about your ideas.”

As he began explaining, she carried the tray to the chairs and started making the hot drink. She forced herself to listen. He had met with a few of the magicians he suspected of having links to underworld traders, having befriended them a few months earlier in order to gain information for the Hearing.

Regin grimaced. “They were quite pleased about the result of the Hearing. Changing the ban from associating with criminals to working for them means they can help out their lowlife friends without censure – so long as they don’t get paid for it in any obvious way.” He sighed. “They’re quite pleased with us, which at least has the advantage that they’re still happy to talk to me. And to complain about a certain foreign magician receiving money in exchange for using magic.”

“Foreign, eh?” Sonea handed him a cup. “Cery said the rogue is foreign.”

“Yes.” Regin’s expression became thoughtful, his head tilting slightly as he considered her. “The law against anyone outside the Guild learning and practising magic isn’t always a practical one. It has worked only because the Allied Lands all agreed to it. But what of magicians from other lands? If they set foot on Allied soil and happen to use magic, they immediately break a law. That hardly seems fair.”

“Or practical,” Sonea agreed. “The king and Higher Magicians have been discussing this for years now. Of course, we are hoping that Sachaka will eventually join the Allied Lands and their magicians will become members of the Guild and bound by our laws. Achieving the first may be difficult, since they’d have to give up slavery. The second, in comparison, seems impossible.”

“The other alternative is to change the law.”

“I doubt the Guild would want to relinquish its control of magicians, especially foreign ones.”

“They’ve only ever been concerned with controlling those living in the Allied Lands,” Regin said. “But visitors from other lands might be allowed to enter them without the obligation to join the Guild.”

“With some time restriction to their visit, I hope.”

“Of course. And no trading of magic for profit.”

Sonea smiled. “Can’t have the Guild getting any poorer.”

Regin chuckled. “If the reactions of my magician friends with dubious connections are anything to go by, no foreign magician would gain permission to trade for long.”

“Do they know where this foreign magician is?”

He shook his head. “I could set them digging for information, if you think it won’t clash with Cery’s plans.”

She sipped her cup of sumi and considered, then nodded. “I’ll ask him. In the meantime it won’t hurt if they keep their ears open and pass anything on to you.”

Regin grimaced and set down his empty cup. “It’ll only hurt my sense of good taste. They’re hardly the sort of company I like to keep. Their idea of entertainment is …” His nose wrinkled. “Crude.”

Sonea kept her expression neutral. Regin had always been a snob. But then, there were plenty of magicians from the Houses, and not just the lower classes, whose liking for intoxication, whores and gambling were well known and disapproved of. Like some of Lorkin’s friends, it seems, she thought, remembering the young magicians found in a playhouse. Maybe Lorkin is better off away from Imardin.

Then the whole painful truth about his adventures in Sachaka flooded back, and she winced. Rising, she moved the sumi utensils and empty cups back to the side table.

“Hopefully Cery will find her soon, and you won’t have to deal with them,” she said. Turning back to Regin, she was relieved to see he’d taken the hint and risen to his feet. “Thank you for coming by.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you for hearing me out. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any further information.” He turned to the door and, as she opened it with magic, walked out.

She closed the door, leaned on the back of a chair and sighed. A few minutes’ distraction, at least. Is it too soon to go to the hospice? She looked at the mechanical timepiece that Rothen had given her last year. Yes.

Sighing again, she went back to pacing the room and worrying about her son.