The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,104

withheld information about a rogue, then he needs to get his hands dirty, too.

“How long have we got?” she asked.

Gol shrugged. “I don’t know, but if we’re lucky she’s gone to bed.”

“I need to send for some help. Two magicians are better than one in this situation.” She took a piece of paper and quickly scrawled the words “Northside” and “Now?” on it, then folded it and wrote Regin’s name and title on the back. Then she wrote the same message to Rothen. “Give these to Healer Nikea – the one who brought you in.”

Gol took the notes and slipped out of the room.

When the door opened again, Sonea expected it to be Gol returning. Instead it was Healer Nikea. As the young woman approached, she met Sonea’s eyes, then looked away, and immediately Sonea’s skin began to prickle. She’s going to ask me what all this is about. Maybe she’s recognised Gol, or found out that he works for a Thief. I doubt she’s going to scold me, but Nikea’s not the sort to let anything she disapproves of go unmentioned and ignored.

“Ah … I wanted to say …” the young woman began, rubbing her hands together with uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Yes?” Sonea prompted.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, I know it’s got to be for a good purpose.” Nikea straightened. “If you need someone here to … to ‘cover your tracks’, as they say, you can rely on me. And some of the other Healers, too. We’ll tell people you were here if you need to go out.”

Sonea realised her mouth had dropped open in surprise, and she quickly closed it.

“How many of you think this?” she managed to ask.

“Four of us. Sylia, Gejen, Colea and myself.”

Amused, Sonea suppressed the urge to smile. “You’ve discussed this already?”

Nikea’s gaze was steady. “Yes. We weren’t sure what was going on, if anything. But we all thought it had to be important, and that we were willing to help.”

Sonea felt her face begin to heat. “Thank you, Nikea.”

The girl shrugged, then backed away to the door. “Of course, we’d love to know what is going on, if you can tell us.” She touched the handle, then looked back hopefully.

Sonea chuckled. “When I can, I will.”

Nikea grinned. “I’ll send the next patient in.”

“Thank you. Again.”

As the door closed behind the Healer, Sonea couldn’t help grinning. Seems not all the Guild thinks I’ll turn into a crazed black-magic-wielding murderer the moment I’m out of their sight. The Healers’ trust was touching. Perhaps she could risk leaving the hospice, after all. It would be safer for Rothen and Regin. While there had been no hint that the rogue was a black magician, things could turn very nasty if it turned out she were.

And Sonea had to admit, the idea of sneaking around the city with Cery again filled her with both nostalgia and excitement. It wouldn’t be fair if Rothen and Regin got to have all the fun, while she had to sit and wait for news.

CHAPTER 19

IN HIDING

As Gol had warned, the area of the city the rogue lived in was surprisingly respectable, and not the sort where anyone could loiter and remain inconspicuous. She rented the basement of a shoemaker’s shop and home. All of the street’s buildings had a shop at ground level and accommodation for the shopkeeper upstairs.

Cery had sent some of his people out to visit local shops to see if he could watch for the woman from within one of them. One reported overhearing a shopkeeper say his neighbour was away visiting his wife’s family in Elyne, and a few picked locks later Cery was sitting in the absent shopkeeper’s first floor guest room, relaxing in a comfortable chair next to the street side window, watching night fall and lamp-lighters setting the street aglow with light.

He’d also sent people to watch the rear entrance to the shoemaker’s home. The basement was accessible not just via the shop above it but through a sunken back door. Regular reports assured him that she hadn’t left.

Gol was taking longer than he ought to, though. Did I misunderstand Sonea’s message? She said she would be dealing with “the matter” and that I should send information to the hospice. Well, I’ve done that.

A door opened downstairs and he tensed. The footsteps of two or three people thumped up the staircase. Were they his people, or the shopkeeper and his family returning? He moved quickly, concealing himself behind the open door where he could hopefully slip out