The Rogue (18 page)

Several patrons looked around as she entered, and it was obvious that they’d noted she wasn’t the usual sort of visitor. She headed for a narrow wooden stair built against the left wall of the room. It was steep, and soon she had reached the third floor. Two men stood in the corridor. They eyed her suspiciously. The door to the last room on the right was open, and she could hear voices. One was Cery’s. Raised in anger.

Whatever confrontation Cery and Anyi had arranged, it was taking place now.

The two men stepped forward to block her path. She pushed them away with magic. As soon as they comprehended that the force they’d encountered was magical, they backed away from her hastily. One shouted out a warning.

A man peered out of the doorway of the last room and saw her. A heartbeat later, three people ran out of the room and bolted down the stairs at the end of the corridor. One was Anyi, she saw. Realising she had arrived too late to prevent the attack on Cery, she hurried to the doorway and looked inside the room.

Cery and Gol stood at the far side of the small room, knives in hands, but smiling and unharmed. She sighed with relief.

“Looks like I arrived just in time,” she said, stepping inside and closing the door.

Cery smiled. “It was perfect timing,” he said. “Thanks.”

“The least I could do,” she replied. “So, do you want to stay here or make yourself scarce?”

He glanced at Gol, who was looking a little pale and very relieved. “I think we had better move on. Would you like to come with us?”

“Would I?” she asked in reply.

Cery grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t take you any place you won’t want anyone to see you in.” He tapped a foot and a trapdoor sprang up from the floor beside him.

Of course he’d have an escape route handy, though I doubt he’d have had a chance to use it if I hadn’t turned up.

Cery took a step toward the trapdoor, then paused and looked back at her appraisingly. “By the way,” he said. “Nice coat.”

Something was gripping Lorkin’s shoulder and shaking him. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring at a grinning Evar.

“What?” he asked, pushing away a heavy, cloying tiredness. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Evar assured him. “But if you don’t get up soon you’ll be late.”

Lorkin sat up and blinked at the empty beds around him. If most of the men were up and gone, he was already late. He groaned and rubbed his face, then got up.

“I wish you Traitors had time pieces,” he complained. “How am I supposed to wake up on time when you don’t have alarm gongs?”

“Some of the women have them. But here … what would we set them to?” Evar said, shrugging. “We all sleep and get up at different times.”

Lorkin sighed and started changing out of his bedclothes and into the simple trousers and shirt he liked best of all the Traitor styles of garb. Evar brought over a plate of bread covered with a layer of sweet fruit paste so thick that it must have broken the rules of winter rationing. Lorkin ate quickly, telling himself it was only so he could get to the Care Room faster, not to hide the evidence of Evar’s excess.

“Leota spoke to me last night,” Evar said between bites.

Lorkin paused and regarded his friend. The man’s expression was wistful.

“She said she enjoyed our evening together,” Evar continued, smiling faintly.

Chewing and then swallowing quickly, Lorkin fixed his friend with a stern stare.

“I’m sure she did.”

Evar looked at Lorkin and shrugged, his smile gone. “Oh, I know it’s more likely she means she enjoyed reaping the magical and political rewards, but there is a chance she wasn’t faking the other kind of enjoyment.”

“Are you tempted to find out?” Lorkin asked.

Evar shook his head. “Well, at least not until I feel like the cost is worth it again,” he added, then took another bite.

“You’d trust her again?” Lorkin was unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

“I never trusted her the first time,” Evar said, between chews. He paused to finish the mouthful. “I knew what might happen. There were going to be people who thought I should be punished for taking you to the caves. If they didn’t do it that way, they’d find another.” He grinned. “This way I got a bit of fun out of it. And while Leota may be opportunistic, she’s also got a great body.”

Lorkin stared at his friend, unable to decide what to say to this.
I can hardly say “Evar, you’re not as stupid as I thought you were”. Nor would he like it if I told him he was as ruthless as the women. But he’s not been as powerless or clueless as he appeared to be. In fact, he may have been planning this since before our tour of the stone-makers’ caves.

“And if she did happen to enjoy more than gaining some magic and the satisfaction of punishing me, then maybe she will come back for more,” Evar added, his gaze turning misty again.

Or maybe he’s just making it up as he goes along
, Lorkin amended.
I still have to admire him for it. He seems to be able to find an upside to any situation.

“Better you than me,” Lorkin said. He dusted the crumbs off himself, then stretched. “Not that I’d have time. I’m off to the washrooms, then back to work.”

Evar grimaced. “I’ve heard things are getting bad there.”

Lorkin nodded. “It looked like the number of fever patients was easing off for a while, but then we got twice as many sick people arriving, and some of them are much sicker than before.”

“That happens every year.”

“So Kalia tells me. But I don’t believe everything Kalia says, in case she tries to trick me again.”

“Good idea,” Evar said, popping the last piece of bread in his mouth. He uttered a muffled farewell as Lorkin headed for the door.

The city seemed quieter than usual as Lorkin made his way to the washrooms, then on to the Care Room. Coughing echoed down the corridors and from behind closed doors. Only when he neared the Care Room did he realise that there was something he
wasn’t
hearing: the constant hum of voices throughout the city. When he finally heard the sound it was coming from the Care Room – from a queue of waiting patients extending into the corridor beyond the room’s entrance.

People saw him and scowled. Some glared. Others looked at him in a measuring way.

Kalia has no doubt been making it known that I’m late.
He wasn’t
that
late, however. He’d made up time by bathing very quickly, which he hoped wasn’t going to make him unpleasant to be around.
If only a good bath was all it took to make Kalia pleasant to be near.

Entering the room, his heart sank as he took in the sight and smell of so many sick people. Kalia saw him and immediately stalked across the room toward him. He braced himself for a scolding, but instead she grabbed his elbow and led him over to a couple hovering over a girl of about six years.

“Examine her,” she said. “Come and tell me your assessment.”

He looked at the parents and felt his heart sink even further. Both stared back at him with dark, desperate eyes and said nothing. Turning to the girl, he saw that she was pale, her breathing was laboured and when she coughed it was weakly, her lungs rattling with congestion.

He knew even before he touched her and sent his senses within that she was sicker than she ought to be. The chill fever always claimed a few Traitors each year. The old and the young were the most likely victims, and those already weakened from some other illness.

He also knew that he would have to face this at some point. Kalia had known it too. He had already decided what he would do. But he would not do it now. Not while all these people were watching him so closely.

And not, he realised, until he’d had a chance to ask Tyvara if he’d guessed correctly what the consequences would be.

As the Guild House slaves began serving dinner, Dannyl was surprised to hear Tayend’s voice in the corridor.

“Then I’ll join him,” Tayend said. A moment later he stepped into the main doorway of Dannyl’s rooms. “Would you like some company for dinner?”

Dannyl nodded and gestured to a nearby stool. He had feared that he and Tayend would have an argument or some sort of confrontation, but nothing of the sort had happened and so far they had settled into their new roles without any conflict. And perhaps, since Tayend was so often out visiting Sachakans, it made sense to take advantage of the chance to catch up on ambassadorial business.

“No Ashaki to visit tonight?”

Tayend sat down and shook his head. “I asked Achati for a night off. I’m surprised he didn’t invite you out instead.”

Dannyl shook his head. “I’m sure he has other people to see than us Ambassadors. You’ve been getting along with the Sachakans very well.”

A slave hurried into the room with a plate and knife for Tayend, so that he could begin serving himself from the platters of food the others were offering.

“I have, haven’t I? It certainly appears so. Or am I wrong in assuming that? From what Ashaki Achati tells me,
you
were popular when you first arrived. Perhaps I, too, will fall out of favour.”

“You don’t have an assistant for anybody to abduct.”

“No. Though I could do with one – preferably of the kind that nobody would want to kidnap.” Tayend grimaced. “I want to work out what the situation is here, before I get anybody else involved. Whether it was safe. How things worked.” He moved some of the spicier meat onto his plate, then some stuffed vegetables, before indicating that the slaves could leave.

“I suspect finding out how things
really
work would take quite a few years.”

Tayend smiled crookedly. “Even so, I think I’ve worked out some things,” he said. “How about I tell you what I’ve guessed and you tell me if I’m right.” Popping food into his mouth, Tayend chewed and regarded Dannyl expectantly.

Dannyl shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Tayend swallowed, drank a mouthful of water, then cleared his throat. “I’ve worked out that you and I are no longer a couple.”

Surprise was followed by a flush of guilt. Dannyl forced himself to meet Tayend’s eyes. Tayend’s gaze was steady.

“I guess not,” Dannyl replied.
Rather lamely
, he added silently.

“I worked that out when you put me in the guest rooms,” Tayend added. “And don’t tell me it would have caused a scandal if I’d slept in your bed. The Sachakans knew all about us before you got here.” He speared another portion off his plate.

Dannyl coughed in protest. “They might still have disapproved – enough to demand we be replaced, or to refuse to deal with us.”

“There’s nothing to make deals over. We have no work to do. They don’t need to trade with our countries. Having us here is a gesture of goodwill, nothing more. Other than that, our value to the Sachakans is merely as a novelty or entertainment. I suppose it has taken you longer to work this out.” Tayend waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve also worked out that Achati is a lad, and rather fancies you.” His eyes narrowed. “I haven’t quite worked out if you fancy him in return.”

Once again, Dannyl felt his face warming, but this time not out of guilt.

“Achati is a friend,” he said.

“Your
only
friend among the Sachakans,” Tayend continued, pointing his knife at Dannyl for emphasis. “You won’t be able to string him along forever. What are you going to do when he gets sick of waiting? He doesn’t seem the sort of man I’d want to make angry.”

Dannyl opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. “You once would have said that about me,” he managed.

Tayend smiled. “Then I got to know you, and you’re not at all scary. Sometimes you’re even a little pathetic, always worried about what people think, burying yourself in your research to make yourself feel worthy.”

“It’s important research!” Dannyl objected.

“Oh. Yes. Very important. More important than me.”

“You were interested in it too, once. As soon as it stopped being about roaming around having adventures and started being about hard work, you didn’t care for it any more.”

Tayend’s gaze flashed with anger, but then he hesitated, and looked away. “I suppose it must look that way. To me it felt like I had nothing more to contribute. The writing part was always yours. Once I was out of the Grand Library, I was a poor excuse for a scholar.”

Indignation faded at Tayend’s assessment of himself. “You were never a poor excuse for a scholar,” Dannyl told him. “If I had known you were still interested in the research, I would have found something, some way, for you to stay involved.”

Tayend looked up and frowned. “I thought you were keeping me out. Going to Sachaka without me confirmed it.”

“It was … I believed it was dangerous here for you.”

“You certainly had me worried. When my king approved of my proposal to be the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka I was sure I had taken on something much more dangerous than this has turned out to be, so far.”

“How did you convince him?”

“I didn’t. Others did.” Tayend shrugged. “It seems everyone thought it was a great idea to send someone here now that Kyralia had done so, but nobody was stupid enough to suggest it in case they were given the job.”

“Who supported you?” Dannyl asked, mainly out of curiosity.

Tayend smiled. “That would be telling.” He looked down at his plate. “We should eat or the food will go cold.”

Dannyl snorted softly. “Elynes and their convoluted politics.”

“We are good at it – and it has been of benefit here. I might even be able to keep
you
out of trouble.”

Returning to his half-eaten meal, Dannyl considered what his former lover had said. “So did you come all this way only to see what I was up to?”

Tayend’s eyes narrowed again. He didn’t answer immediately, instead chewing thoughtfully. “No,” he said eventually. “When you left, you made me see that I was bored. Turns out you are right: having a purpose does make life more interesting.”

“And that purpose is?”

Tayend was chewing again.

Being the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka
, Dannyl answered. He had to admit, he was impressed at Tayend’s daring, and the flamboyant man was well suited to the job. He did have a good grasp of politics – even if he did often choose to ignore social taboos and traditions – and he was very perceptive about people.