The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,144
heart stopped, then lurched into a racing beat. She opened her mouth to ask him … what? What to ask first? Where was Lorkin? Did the Sachakans understand that they weren’t to kill him?
“How long until they do?” Rothen asked.
“Dannyl can’t say exactly. Half an hour. Maybe less. You had better make yourselves comfortable.”
Osen sat down behind his desk, and she and Rothen used magic to move two of the room’s armchairs to the front. Osen’s gaze slid to the distance.
He is linked to Dannyl by a blood ring, she guessed. What can he see? She wanted to demand that he describe everything he saw in detail, but instead took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“You said ‘abductors’,” she pointed out. “Is there more than one?”
Osen paused and his gaze shifted to somewhere far beyond the office walls.
“Yes. Several Traitors. Unh thinks eight.”
“Unh?”
The Administrator’s gaze focused on her with difficulty. “A Duna tribesman. He’s tracking for them. Apparently he’s quite good at it. Wait …” His expression shifted and became eager. “They got a look at them. Just a glimpse …”
He was silent, staring at the desk without seeing it for a painfully long moment. Sonea realised she was gripping the arms of her chair. She forced herself to let go and folded her hands in her lap instead.
“Ah.” Osen’s shoulders dropped with disappointment.
“What?” Rothen asked. Sonea glanced at him. He was leaning forward, his eyes wide.
Osen shook his head. “He’s not there. Not in that group. They’re following the wrong trail – wrong people.” He sucked in a breath, held it, then sighed. “There were three trails, apparently. They thought he was with one of them, but they were wrong. They’re going to have to go back and try another trail.”
Sonea let out a sigh of frustration. Rothen groaned and leaned against the back of his chair. Silence filled the room. Nobody spoke. Osen’s gaze had shifted to the distance again. Rothen was rubbing his forehead.
Then all jumped at a loud knock at the door.
Osen waved a hand. The door opened and a Healer stepped inside. The young man looked at Sonea, smiled and hurried toward her, holding out a slip of paper.
“Forgive the interruption, Administrator,” he said. “I have an urgent message for Black Magician Sonea.”
She took the paper from him and nodded in reply as he bent into a shallow bow. He hurried from the room. When the door closed she looked down at the note, then unfolded it.
Your friend in the city says his friend has found the thing you’re after. You have to be at the old butcher’s building in Inner Westside by sunset. Bring your other friend.
If she’d been in a better mood she would have laughed at the vague and rather silly language. But this was the last thing she needed. How could she race off into the city to catch the rogue when Lorkin could be found at any moment?
A hand passed before her eyes and plucked the message from her. Her heart skipped, but it was only Rothen. He scanned the note, looked at her and narrowed his eyes in thought.
“How long until they backtrack to where the trail split?”
“A few hours,” Osen intoned, his gaze still fixed on far-away things.
“And then a few more before they travel as far down the next one. Shall we leave you to follow their progress, and return later?”
“Of course.” Osen snapped out of his trance and looked at them in turn. “I’m sorry. These blood stones are remarkably involving of the attention. I should have Dannyl take off the ring until he is close to finding Lorkin again.” He waved a hand. “Go.”
Rothen rose, then looked at Sonea. She stood up reluctantly. How can I leave now? But it’ll be hours before they catch up with Lorkin. I can’t sit here waiting while the rogue escapes. And if we don’t turn up and Cery confronts the rogue by himself, he might get hurt.
She forced herself to move, following Rothen to the door, then out into the corridor. Long shadows striped the Guild grounds outside the University doors. The Healer was waiting for her, smiling nervously as she noticed him. Rothen beckoned to the man.
“Has anyone contacted Lord Regin?” he murmured.
The young man frowned and shook his head. Rothen turned to Sonea. “Sunset is not far off. You had better go now. I’ll find Regin and send him to meet you at the hospice.”
Hospice. Of course. I can’t go straight to Inner Westside.