The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,150

dozing women and walked to where Savara leaned against the rock wall, her eyes closed.

“I’ll come to Sanctuary,” he told her, guessing that she wasn’t asleep.

Her eyes flew open and snapped to his. She stared at him, her gaze disconcertingly intelligent. He found himself thinking that she must have been quite a beauty in her youth.

“Good,” she said.

“But you’re going to have to let me deal with Ambassador Dannyl,” he added. “He’s not going to give up. If you’d met my mother you’d understand why. Eventually he’ll either find Sanctuary or you’ll have to kill him. I rather like him, and would appreciate you not killing him. And if you did, there would probably be consequences that would not be good for the Traitors.”

“How will you persuade him to stop following you?”

He smiled grimly. “I know what to say to him. I’ll need to speak to him alone, though.”

“I doubt the Ashaki will let you go, if they see you.”

“We’ll have to lure him away from them.”

She frowned as she considered this. “I think we can arrange that.”

“Thank you.”

“Go sleep. We’ll have to let them catch up with us again, so we may as well get some rest in the meantime.”

He walked back to his mattress and found Tyvara sitting up, glaring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You had better not be thinking there is more between you and I than there actually is, Kyralian,” she said in a low voice.

He stared at her, feeling doubts starting to creep in. She stared back, then abruptly turned away and lay down with her back to him. He settled onto his mattress, feeling worry starting to eat at him.

Perhaps this is a one-sided thing …

“Don’t worry,” Chari whispered. “She always does this. The more she likes someone the more she pushes them away.”

“Shut up, Chari,” Tyvara hissed.

Lying on the hard ground, Lorkin knew that sleep was going to be impossible. It was going to be a very long day. And he was beginning to wonder if there might be a significant downside to living in a city of women like these.

As Regin related the final stages of the Ichani Invasion, Sonea cursed Cery again and tried not to listen. After leaving the Guild, she and the Healer who had brought the message had hurried to the hospice by carriage.

So many hours have passed since then, it feels like something that happened yesterday.

There had been a delay, she remembered. A Healer new to the hospice had pinned her down with questions about protocol. Sonea had told the man that he could ask such questions of any Healer there, and some of the helpers, but he didn’t seem to trust them. By the time Sonea extracted herself, Regin was there, waiting for her.

He arrived in a covered cart used to transport supplies to his family home. She had felt strangely out of place, riding in the back of an old cart, the both of them using empty crates as seats. But it was a smart move. They would attract too much attention if they arrived in a Guild carriage.

He’d also brought some threadbare old coats to wear over their robes. For that she was immensely grateful, and a little ashamed that she hadn’t considered how they were going to disguise themselves.

Well, I had a lot on my mind. A lot more than Regin knows. And while Cery knows about Lorkin’s abduction, I haven’t had a chance to tell him that Dannyl is in the midst of tracking Lorkin down right now.

When they arrived at their destination, a man had walked up to them and told them their host was waiting for them – just knock on the last door to the left down that alleyway. They’d entered the old butchery building, whose owner had been forced to move his business away when the area had grown more prosperous and finicky about its neighbours. It was used as a storehouse.

The sun was setting when we arrived. I was worried we were too late. I needn’t have rushed.

They’d been ushered into a surprisingly well-furnished room. An extraordinary-looking man had risen from one of the expensive chairs to bow to them. He was dark like a Lonmar, but with a distinct reddish tone to his skin, and strange, elongated eyes that put her in mind of drawings of the dangerous predatory animals that roamed the mountains.

He had no accent, however. He introduced himself as Skellin and offered them a drink. They’d declined. She assumed Regin was as reluctant to