The Ambassador’s Mission: Book One of the Traitor Spy Trilogy (21 page)

“No, but it sounds like they’d be very interesting.”

As the man took the book from Dannyl and placed it and the stack of letters back in the cabinet, Dannyl felt a pang of disappointment. In a few short moments’ access to this man’s library he’d confirmed something that had nagged at him for years. How much more could he learn?

But it was late and he could not impose on his host too much. And no doubt Ashaki Achati would like to return home soon.
Perhaps I can return some time.
Then he felt his heart sink.
But not for a while, because I have to visit all the other powerful Sachakans wanting to meet the new Guild Ambassador to Sachaka first, or I might show too much favour for one over the rest. Curse the politics of this place!

He would do his best to arrange another visit. In the meantime he must take advantage of any opportunities that came his way. As Ashaki Itoki led the way out of the room to show him the battle maps, Dannyl swallowed his impatience and followed.

Healer Nikea met Sonea at the door of the hospice.

“I’ve arranged a room for us, Black Magician Sonea,” she said, smiling and turning to lead Sonea away. “It’s small but we’ll all squeeze in.”

“All?”

Nikea glanced over her shoulder. “Yes. A few of the Healers I talked to had some interesting stories that we all agreed you should hear first-hand.”

Sonea smiled wryly at the young woman’s back.
Most of the time it’s a relief to be around someone who isn’t intimidated by or wary of me, but sometimes there are drawbacks. I wish Nikea had asked me about this first. I don’t want too many people knowing I’m asking questions about rich magicians associating with criminals.

The room the young Healer led her to was a narrow storeroom, worryingly low in supplies. Several chairs had been arranged around the walls. Nikea did not enter, but waited until another Healer stepped into the corridor and then called out to the man.

“Healer Gejen, could you gather the others?”

He nodded and hurried away. After a few minutes he returned with five other women. Two were helpers, Sonea noted. All filed into the room and sat down, then Nikea gestured for Sonea to enter, moved inside and closed the door behind her.

A globe light filled the room with sharp brightness. All but Nikea watched Sonea expectantly.

“Well then,” Nikea said. “Who wants to go first?”

After a short pause, one of the helpers cleared her throat. She was Irala, a quiet middle-aged woman. An efficient helper, though a little cold with the patients sometimes.

“I’ll speak,” she offered. Her gaze shifted back to Sonea. “It’s about time the Guild stopped ignoring this problem.”

“What problem exactly?” Sonea asked.

“Roet. And those who sell it. It’s everywhere. In the Houses they say it spread from the slums like a plague, but out here they say it’s spread by the Houses to control the poor and reduce their numbers. Nobody really knows where it comes from. I’ve heard gossip and stories, though, that say that the ones selling it are rich and as powerful as the Houses, but have their toes rooted in the underworld.”

“I’ve heard plenty say the Thieves are using it to take over the city,” Gejen added. “One person told me it was imported by foreigners to weaken us before they invaded Kyralia. They suspected the Elynes.” The others smiled at this. Clearly none of them believed it.

“Have any of you heard of novices or magicians who crave roet? Who can’t stop taking it?”

The other helper and one of the Healers nodded. “A … a relative of mine,” the helper said. She shrugged apologetically. “He made me swear never to tell anyone so I won’t say his name. He says no matter how long he resists, the need won’t go away. I tell him he just needs to stop long enough for his body to heal properly, but he won’t.”

Sonea felt her heart sink. “Do you know who he buys the roet from?”

“No, he won’t tell me for fear I’ll stop his supply somehow.” The woman frowned. “And he said something about the source being a friend. If he had to find another seller, that person might ask for more than money.”

Sonea nodded. She looked at the others. “Have any of you heard of novices or magicians becoming involved with criminals – whether roet sellers or not? I don’t mean visiting pleasure houses. I mean trading through or with them, doing magic for money or favours?”

“I have,” the other Healer said. In her thirties, she had a young family which her non-magician husband watched over while she worked at the hospice – a practical arrangement that only Healers seemed to find unremarkable. “A few years ago, before I married Torken, a friend I’d known since our University days stopped spending time with us – my University friends, that is. He preferred some non-magician friends in the city, who met in one of these pleasure houses. He told us he wasn’t interested in the things people bought there, just the arrangement he had with the owners. Some sort of importing arrangement. He would never tell us what. Now he doesn’t even live in the Guild. He moved out into a house in the city and spends all his time helping his new friends.”

“Do you think the trade is illegal?”

She nodded. “But I don’t have proof.”

“Is he addicted to roet?”

The Healer shook her head. “Too smart for that.”

Sonea frowned. This was bad news, and something Regin would be interested to hear about, but it didn’t prove that roet was being used to lure magicians into criminal activity.

“Well, it’s always been known that some novices from the Houses have dealings with Thieves,” the other woman said. She was a thin woman named Sylia, who was a powerful and skilled Healer.

“But is that rumour or is there evidence?” Sonea asked.

“There is never evidence.” Sylia shrugged. “But young novices have always bragged about it. Often to bluff their way out of trouble with other novices, but if you asked enough questions there were always some rumours that stuck more than others.”

The others were nodding. “There’s truth in those rumours,” Gejen agreed. “It’s just difficult to know which rumour has truth in it.”

“So … do you think the rule against novices and magicians associating with criminals or unsavoury types has any effect at all on higher-class novices?”

“Yes and no,” Gejen replied. “There’s no doubt that it prevents some from taking the risk, but those who are foolish, or whose families are already involved in crime, won’t be dissuaded.” The others nodded in agreement, some smiling knowingly.

“And if the rule was abolished, would more be tempted?”

The five exchanged glances.

“Probably,” Sylia said. She shrugged. “Since the Thieves are involved in everything, and rich and powerful enough to offer tempting payment.”

“Like payment in roet,” Irala added.

“Any rule that reduces the number of novices and magicians caught up in gambling, drink and roet is good, as far as I’m concerned,” Gejen said. The others hummed in agreement.

“But the rule is unfair and ineffective as it is,” Sylia added. “It shouldn’t be abolished, just changed.”

As the five began discussing how, some quite passionately, a shiver of realisation ran through Sonea.
They’ve all been thinking about this. And debating it. Have other magicians given the rule this much consideration? Are they all discussing it?
Then she felt her heart skip.
Can I gauge from them how the vote might go, if it’s put to the entire Guild?

She listened to them carefully, and while they talked she began devising another set of questions to ask them. This was going to be a more useful information-gathering exercise than she had planned or expected.

A
s Lorkin followed the slave down the corridor of Ashaki Itoki’s home, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Despite everything that his friend Perler had told him, he was still not entirely sure how to behave around the Ashaki. To be a magician and a landowner gave one the highest status in Sachakan society aside from the king. A magician who did not own land but was an heir to an Ashaki was one level lower in status than the Ashaki. A magician who was not an heir was next, then any free non-magician – both of whom were dependent on an Ashaki for an income and to broker trade deals or marriages.

If lower-status Sachakans were given important duties – such as Master Kirota holding the role of Master of War – they gained enough extra status to circulate among more powerful men. Dannyl did not own land, but his role as Ambassador boosted his status to the point where the Ashaki would deal with him. Lorkin, on the other hand, was a mere assistant – not quite equal to a non-heir Sachakan magician because he didn’t know black magic. Perler had warned him that some Sachakans thought the role of assistant was not much better than a servant’s, and had actually treated him with less respect than a free non-magician.

Ashaki Itoki is one of the most powerful men in Sachaka. I have no idea how I should behave around him. And, if that isn’t enough, I still can’t get used to the idea these men are black magicians who might hold immense magical power and could probably fry me to ashes if I happened to offend them.

The slave reached the end of the corridor, took a few steps into the room and threw himself onto the floor. Lorkin felt his stomach lurch and a crawling, uncomfortable feeling run up his spine.
I can’t get used to seeing people do that, either. And it’s worse when they do it to me.

He looked up to see a large man, his flashy, overly decorated clothes stretching tightly around his ample girth. As the slave informed him of Lorkin’s identity, the man smiled thinly.

“Welcome, Lord Lorkin. You have a long task ahead of you, so I will not delay you. My slave will take you to my library and do his best to supply you with anything you need.”

Lorkin inclined his head. “Thank you, Ashaki Itoki.”

“Ukka. Take Lord Lorkin to the library,” the Sachakan ordered. The man leapt to his feet, beckoned to Lorkin with his eyes lowered, then moved away toward a doorway. Lorkin nodded to Itoki again, then followed the slave out of the room.

Out of the Ashaki’s presence, Lorkin let out a sigh of relief. He would not relax completely until he had left the man’s house. And then maybe not until he was back at the Guild House.
But I’m not here in Sachaka to relax or feel safe and comfortable. I’m here to help Dannyl in his research.

The slave turned into a cluster of rooms similar to those Lorkin had use of in the Guild House, and moved into one of the side rooms. He stopped before a cabinet.

“My master says the records you want to see are in here,” he said, extending a hand toward it. Then he moved to the wall beside the door and stood with his back to it, just as the slaves at the Guild House did when not engaged in a task or dismissed.

Ready to serve me if required. And perhaps to keep watch and make sure I don’t look at anything I wasn’t invited to. Or steal anything.

Opening the double doors, Lorkin examined the piles of papers wrapped in leather satchels, the rolls of parchment and the books. He found the book Dannyl had described and took it out, then drew his notebook out of his robes. Casting about, he realised there was nowhere to sit and no table to work on. He turned to the slave.

“Is there something I can sit on?”

The slave hesitated, then nodded.
Curses, I’ve done it again. I must remember to phrase requests as an order rather than a question.

“Bring it to me,” he said, biting back the “please” that he would usually have added, which he’d discovered sounded lame, and both free Sachakans and slaves seemed to find strange and amusing.

The man moved into the main room and brought in one of the simple stools Sachakans preferred.
Strange that a people with so much power and all the country’s wealth use such basic furniture. I’d expect them to be reclining in chairs as big and over-decorated as they are.

There didn’t appear to be anything resembling a table in the main room, so Dannyl drew out one of the sturdier books from the cabinet. He sat down, rested the book on his knees and placed his notebook on it. Then he began to read.

Within a few pages of the record book Lorkin began to struggle with uncertainty. Clearly he could not copy the entire contents in the time he had. Dannyl hadn’t told him to copy out any particular passage, just to note anything that might be relevant. It was flattering that the magician trusted Lorkin to judge what was relevant –
or else he had no choice but to leave it to me
– but that didn’t make the task any easier.

The book wasn’t the rich source of information that Lorkin had hoped, either. It was part accounting, part diary, as record books of landowning magicians often were in those times. He could not afford to skim anything, or become distracted, or he might miss something. But the lists of household purchases and descriptions of trade agreements were hardly fascinating reading.

He noted any reference to magic and the names of visitors to the magician’s home. When he had finished he put the book away and began to read a bundle of letters. They were old but in good condition, written on small squares of paper that hadn’t been folded, so they did not break into pieces. They had been sent to the magician from a friend in Imardin. Lorkin couldn’t tell if the friend was a magician or not, as he knew that the title “Lord” had been used only by landowners and their heirs at the time. The friend enquired in most letters on progress toward ending slavery in Sachaka, which he and others in Imardin were anxious to achieve.

From the sounds of it, that was a matter of great urgency
, Lorkin thought.
But I suppose it hadn’t been that long since Kyralians had been slaves.

Finishing the letters, he examined the rolls of parchment, which proved to be accounting charts. Other satchels contained more letters, this time from the magician’s sister. She seemed more interested in how the slaves who had been freed were faring, and Lorkin found himself liking her for her compassionate yet practical suggestions.

I wish I could read his replies. I’d like to know the answers to the questions she asks about the Guild’s plans for Sachaka. Maybe that would give us clues as to why Kyralia relinquished control of the country it had conquered.