The Ambassador's Mission

CHAPTER 22

A REUNION



After one night at the old Ashaki’s home, Achati and Dannyl had travelled north-west for half of a day, then stopped at the estate of Achati’s cousin, Ashaki Tanucha. Though not much younger than the previous host, Tanucha was clearly a far wealthier and more sociable man. His much younger wife, in her middle years, only appeared at dinner and was otherwise busy looking after their seven children, including five boys.

“Seven! I know it’s more a city man’s viewpoint, but it seems a touch irresponsible,” Achati said to Dannyl quietly when they retired to the guest rooms after dinner. “Only one can inherit. He must find occupation for the rest. The daughters will be married as best can be arranged, of course. But the sons …” He sighed. “Landless and dependent on their brother, as will be their sons – if they can attract wives at all.” He shook his head. “This is how Ichani come to be.”

“They rebel against their brothers?”

“Against the whole country. It is better that younger sons are not trained in magic, but it is rare for a parent who loves his child to withhold that knowledge, since it means the younger son will have such low status.”

“Younger sons are more likely to become magicians in Kyralia,” Dannyl told him. “Magicians are not supposed to involve themselves in politics, and it’s considered better if the son destined to become the head of the family is the one with political influence.”

Achati nodded thoughtfully. “I think I like your way better. It gives power to both older and younger sons.”

They spent the next day riding around Tanucha’s estate, and the evening in eating and talking. Afterwards Achati and Dannyl chatted late into the night. The next day they slept late, then explored Tanucha’s library, which was disappointingly small and neglected. Though the rest was welcome, Dannyl could not relax. When they retired to the guest rooms for the second night he asked Achati when they would be moving on.

“That depends on the Traitors, doesn’t it?” Achati replied as he reclined on the pillows in the central room.

“Surely we’re not going to wait around for them to deliver Lorkin and Tyvara to us?” Dannyl said, sitting down on one of the stools. He could not get used to lying about on the floor as the Sachakans did.

“Why not? If we keep moving they may not know where to find us. Or we may end up travelling in the wrong direction – away from those who are bringing them to us.”

Dannyl frowned. “I’m not sure why, but I can’t picture these Traitors turning up at the front gate of Tanucha’s estate with Lorkin and Tyvara in chains. They wouldn’t reveal themselves like that.”

“Then how do you think they’ll do it?”

Dannyl considered. “If I were them … I’d lead us to Lorkin and Tyvara. I’d leave us clues or directions – as they have already – so that we will eventually cross paths with the pair.”

“Have they left us any clues or directions lately?”

“No,” Dannyl admitted. “But they haven’t told us to stay put, either.”

Achati laughed. “I am growing very fond of you, Ambassador Dannyl. You have a unique mind.” He turned to one of his slaves, a handsome young man who attended to most of his needs, while the other slave’s role appeared to be to do heavy work and drive the carriage. “Get us some more water, Varn.” The slave picked up a pitcher and hurried away.

“Of course, telling us that they want us to find Lorkin could still be a decoy,” Dannyl said.

“So if it was, then where would we go next?”

Dannyl shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know. If the Traitors did want the girl and Lorkin to evade us, where would they take them?”

“To their mountain home.”

“And which direction has the pair been heading?”

“The mountains.”

“Presumably they are ahead of us.” Dannyl looked up at Achati. “That is the direction I would go.”

Achati nodded, then raised an eyebrow in warning. “We don’t know where their home is,” he reminded Dannyl. “Only that it is in the mountains.”

“I haven’t forgotten that. Have you ever used trackers?”

“Occasionally. When we had a confirmed Traitor to follow.”

“And it failed because?”

“The tracks always stop.” Achati shrugged. “The Traitors are not fools. They know how to erase signs of their passing. Which is not hard when your land is mostly bare rock and you can levitate.”

Dannyl frowned, then shook his head. “If the Traitors wanted us to stop and stay put, or change direction, they’d have let us know.”

“This whole journey and all the clues we’ve followed could have been a ruse,” Achati pointed out. “Designed to keep us busy and heading in the wrong direction.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if we keep going. They’ve already made fools of us. But if there’s a chance they haven’t, and we’re on the right track, then I’m willing to risk being made a slightly bigger fool by continuing toward the mountains. It’s worth it, for the chance we’ll find Lorkin.”

Achati regarded Dannyl thoughtfully, then nodded. The slave returned and handed him the pitcher. “Then we’ll leave. Will the morning be soon enough?” He refilled his goblet but paused to wait for Dannyl’s answer.

Dannyl looked at the man, noting signs of reluctance. I shouldn’t push him too far, he thought. He nodded. “Of course. But early in the morning would be best.”

Achati sighed, nodded, then drained his goblet. “I’ll send a slave to inform Tanucha we’ll be moving on, and request some supplies for the journey. There are fewer estates out by the mountains, and they don’t tend to be that prosperous. We’ll also need some magical support. I’ll contact the king and ask him to send some locals to help us.” With a grunt, he rose to his feet. “Don’t wait for me. Go to bed. This could take some time.”

Magical support. Contacting the king. Dannyl felt a twinge of apprehension. He really does think these Traitors are dangerous.

“Ashaki Achati?” Dannyl said.

The man turned to look back at him. “Yes?”

Dannyl smiled. “Thank you.”

Achati’s frown disappeared and his eyes warmed with good humour. “I think I could get to like Kyralian ideas of manners.” Then he turned and disappeared through the door to his room.


Lorkin opened his eyes. The sky was streaked with orange clouds. He frowned. He’d been dreaming, but he couldn’t remember anything of the dream. Something had woken him. He had that unpleasant, disorienting feeling of being disturbed. Of being wrenched awake before he was ready.

He felt something move against him, and his heart was suddenly pounding.

Lifting his head he saw that Tyvara had fallen asleep. Sitting up against the wall of the old ruin, she had sagged sideways against a protruding stone, and bent her right leg instinctively to avoid toppling sideways. Her knee had come to rest on his arm.

Her skin was wonderfully warm – a stark contrast to the cold ground beneath him and the growing chill of approaching night. Though Sachaka was warm during the day, the evenings could be surprisingly cold.

What should I do? If I move she’ll wake up. But she’s supposed to be keeping watch, and it’s nearly time for us to head off anyway. She needed the sleep, though. She’d been taking longer shifts keeping watch at night, despite him arguing that she could trust him to share the burden. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he could Heal away the weariness. It would be insensitive, considering what his father had promised the Traitors, then failed to deliver.

The cold air told him that she had also let fall the magical shield protecting them, so he put up one of his own, then warmed the air inside it. Keeping still so he didn’t disturb her, he watched her sleeping. The dark circles under her eyes and the little frown creasing her forehead bothered him. But being able to look at her closely without disturbing or embarrassing her … he could appreciate the feminine curve of her jaw and the exotic tilt of her eyes, the curve of her lips …

Which twitched, and he quickly looked away.

He felt her hastily throw up a shield as she woke up and realised she’d dropped hers, so he drew his own in to surround himself. Listening to her draw in a deep breath, then yawn, he considered the ruins they were hiding within. Though Tyvara had been here before, she didn’t know anything about their history. High on a rocky hill, they overlooked the intersection of the road they had been following where it met another. As the sun had risen, just after they’d arrived, he’d been able to pick out details of the mountains, which before had been only a hazy, uneven line of blue-grey at the horizon. Below them was mostly level farmland, broken here and there by plantations of trees or game forests, and criss-crossed by low walls.

“How far away are we?” he had asked.

“Three or four more nights walking to the foothills, then several more to climb into the mountains.”

Now he looked at the area surrounding the hill, checking for signs of life.

“Mind if I have a look around?” he asked as Tyvara rose to her feet and stretched.

She looked up at the sky, which was now a deep scarlet, but the night was not quite dark enough for continuing their trek. “Go ahead. Just keep out of sight of the road.”

“I will.”

They’d sheltered within an open square of walls. He rose and headed for one of the gaps, intending to have a closer look at the outside of the building.

A woman stepped into the gap.

He skidded to a halt. The woman was dressed as a slave, but her demeanour was all wrong. She was smiling at him, but the smile was not friendly. She took a step toward him, her eyes narrowing. Instinctively, he strengthened his shield.

His instinct proved correct. The woman’s nose wrinkled with concentration, and his shield vibrated violently as magic battered it. The air between them shimmered. He backed away.

The woman’s stare was cold and intent. He had no doubt she meant to kill him. Fear set his heart pounding. He felt a growing urge to run. Which would be sensible, he thought. She’s got to be a Traitor, which means she’s a black magician, which means she’s a lot stronger than me.

But before he had even finished that thought, Tyvara stepped past him. The woman’s gaze shifted to her. He felt a giddy rush of relief. Tyvara stopped a step in front of him and he felt her shield envelop his own. Though the battering stopped, he kept his shield strong within hers, in case her own faltered.

“Stop this, Rasha,” Tyvara said.

“Only if you do,” the woman replied.

“Do you swear you will not strike at me or Lorkin?”

“I swear I will not strike you. But he,” the woman’s gaze shifted back to him, “must die.”

Lorkin shivered. But he also noted that the woman had stopped striking at Tyvara.

“The queen ordered that he was not to be killed.”

“She has no right to tell us we cannot have our revenge,” Rasha hissed.

“Ishira was the first to die.”

The woman’s eyes flashed with anger. “First or last, what does it matter?”

“She was my playmate. Do you think I didn’t miss her? Do you think I didn’t grieve?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child!” the woman shouted.

“No,” Tyvara replied, an edge to her voice. “But I would consider the queen an example of how to live with the loss, not those who would murder someone else’s child for their parent’s mistakes or crimes.”

Rasha stared at Tyvara, her face a mask of hatred. “Not everyone can be so forgiving. Not of that. And not of you murdering one of your own people.” The woman’s eyes gleamed. “You’re wasting your strength protecting him. Let me have him.”

“Once you kill him, what will you do with me?” Tyvara sounded remarkably calm, Lorkin noted. But she stood braced as if she expected another attack any moment. She’s trying to keep the woman talking. Well, I hope she is. She could also be about to start bartering my life for her own.

“You’re coming back to Sanctuary with me. All Traitors need to know that the queen would rather one of our own died than the son of the man who killed her daughter.”

“Actually, the queen would rather people obeyed her orders. Then nobody would get killed,” a high voice said. “It’s quite a reasonable order, and good for everybody.”

Rasha stepped to the side and turned in one movement. Another woman dressed as a slave stood within the gap, leaning against the wall in a deliberately nonchalant pose.

“Chari,” Tyvara said, relief and warmth in her voice.

The newcomer gave them all a cheerful smile, then stepped into the building with all the poise of a young Kyralian woman making a grand entrance at a ball or party.

“I have fresh, shiny orders from the queen,” she told them. “Lord Lorkin is not to be harmed. Tyvara is to be brought to Sanctuary to be put on trial for the murder of Riva.” She turned to Rasha. “Since I outrank you, this little task falls to me. You had better run along, before your master realises you’re gone and sends a whipping party after you.”

Rasha stared at Chari for a moment, then she hissed and stalked through the gap in the wall. The snap and crack of the woman pushing through the spiny bushes covering the hill could be clearly heard.

Chari turned to regard Tyvara. “You’re in so much trouble.”

Tyvara smiled. “Thanks for stepping in. How’d you know where we were?”

The young woman shrugged. “I didn’t. I was keeping an eye out for you, of course, but I didn’t think you’d come here. It’s the most obvious hiding place in this area. What were you thinking?”

Tyvara shrugged. “I don’t know.” She rubbed her face, her weariness suddenly plain to see. “We’d done so well … I thought maybe people were assuming we wouldn’t head for Sanctuary.”

Chari shook her head. “It’s just as well I was keeping an eye on Rasha. She’s head watcher at the estate next to mine and she’s been sweating on catching you. When I heard she’d gathered together a group and was heading out to get you I slipped away and followed.”

“A group?” Tyvara frowned. “Where are the others?”

“Fortunately for you, she told them to wait so she could go on ahead and knock off your new friend here.” Chari glanced at Lorkin and smiled. “I got to them first and told them to go home.”

“I outrank you,” Lorkin recalled her saying to Rasha. She’s obviously a fairly powerful Traitor. And if they have ranks then they aren’t as equal as Tyvara says.

“Well … thank you for that.” Tyvara paused. “So what are you going to do with us?”

Chari did not answer. She looked down, pursed her lips and walked a few steps closer. She stopped a few steps away, then looked at Tyvara searchingly. “Is it true?”

“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.”