The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,113
the shop next door, correct?”
The man was of average height and carried the excess weight of a middle-aged man who hadn’t been forced to skip a meal in a long time – if ever.
“Who are you and what are you doing in Wendel’s house?” he demanded.
“I am Wendel’s cousin, Delin, and I am borrowing his house for the week.”
“Wendel doesn’t have a cousin. He has no family. He told me.”
“Second cousin, by marriage,” Cery explained. “He didn’t tell you I was staying here?” He frowned in mock puzzlement. “I suppose it was decided very late.”
“He didn’t. It’s not something he’s likely to neglect to tell me, either.” Tevan narrowed his eyes, then took a step backwards. “I’m calling on the Guard. If you’re lying you’d better get out while you have the chance.” The man turned and took a step away.
“The Guard’s like to get you and Wendel more rub than I ever will,” Cery said, dropping the accent and letting a little slum drawl colour his words. “Crawling all over this place breaking things looking for proof we were here, then saying you made it up. Let’s sort this out ourselves.”
Tevan had stopped, and now he looked at Cery with a worried frown.
“I only need be here for a week, maybe less,” Cery told him. “Wendel won’t see a sign I’ve been here. I’d pay him rent if he was about, but since he’s not here …” He reached into his coat, allowing the hilt of a knife to flash into sight briefly, and drew out a cap of gold coins he kept there for moments like these.
The man’s eyes widened. “A week?” he repeated. He looked transfixed by all the gold.
“Or less.”
Teran’s gaze rose to Cery’s. “Rent’s high around here.”
“Your house would be cheaper,” Cery replied.
Tevan swallowed. He looked at the coins again, then nodded. “What’s your going rate?”
“Half a gold per day,” Cery replied. He slipped the cap back into his coat. “You’ll find ’em dropped by your back door after I’m gone.”
The man nodded, but his mouth was set in a thin line of disbelief. Still, he didn’t voice his doubts. Instead he looked across the road.
“You’re watching something,” he said. “Or looking for someone. Anything I can help with?”
“Hoping to get rid of me sooner?” Cery asked. A look of confusion entered the man’s eyes. No, perhaps he thinks he’s found another way to turn a profit. “Well, if you’ve seen anything suspicious going on over there …”
Tevan frowned. “There’s a foreign woman keeps odd hours. The shoemaker says she rents his basement. We’ve never worked out what she does for a living. Too old and ugly to be whoring around, I’d have thought. My wife’s seen her at the market on Freeday mornings with the spice and herb sellers. We think maybe she …” – he leaned closer and lowered his voice – “unburdens young women of unwanted situations.”
Cery felt his heart skip, but kept his expression blank. Tevan looked at him expectantly.
“Not my line of interest,” Cery said, shrugging. “Anything else?”
The man shook his head. “Supposed to be a clean, honest area, this one. If anything is going on it’s well hidden.” He paused. “Is something going on?”
Cery shook his head. “Nothing you’d want to know about.”
The man nodded, then turned away and headed for the shop next door. Cery closed the door and locked it, then jogged upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. At the top he paused to catch his breath. His heart hammered in his chest.
“What’s wrong?” Gol asked.
“Nothing. Not … as young … as I used to be,” Cery panted. He returned to his chair. “I should get out more often. Any sign of our rogue?”
“No.”
“Anyone pay much attention to the neighbourly exchange downstairs?”
“Not much.”
“Good. One of us needs to go to the Freeday market tomorrow. To the spice sellers.”
“Oh?”
“Our rogue apparently visits them regularly.”
“That’s Skellin’s territory.”
Cery cursed. Gol was right. While some Thieves did not mind others doing a little snooping around in their territory without permission – so long as the snooping wasn’t on their operations – others definitely did. Cery would wager that Skellin was the latter kind.
“I doubt he’d deny you permission,” Gol said.
“Yes, but to get permission I’d have to explain what I’m doing. And then he’d know I didn’t seek his help in finding someone I thought might be the Thief Hunter, when I said I would.”